#i might buck up and talk in a serve who knows

[captainrandomobsessions]

I am losing my goddamn mind

Someone discuss hetalia with me. Fandom shit, aus, something. If you don't want to discuss hetalia, that's fine, we can talk about history or something.

[sinner-as-saint]

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 

— 

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 

But no. 

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 

“She left me.” 

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 

—

But now Bucky knew where you were. 

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 

That’s it. 

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 

But that ended up not happening. 

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 

“Bucky, I—,” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 

More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him. 

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 

You nodded in confirmation. 

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 

Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 

— 

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 

“And you’re mine.” 

— 

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 

“Bucky.” You warned. 

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 

You sniffled. “Buck…” 

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 

This time, he made you a different promise. 

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

[angelltheninth]

Arthur Morgan Teaches You How To Ride Him

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dirty talk, cock riding, experiance differance, teasing, flirty!Arthur Morgan

A/N: Cowboys are on the menu today.

When Arthur offered to teach you how to ride you thought he meant horseback riding. That's what most people would think, you can hardly be blamed for the misunderstanding. Instead you found yourself on top of him, legs shaking, boobs bouncing and cunt stretched full of his cock.

"Little missy, are ya tired already? I haven't even came once." Arthur playfuly slapped your thighs, making you roll your hips forward again. "Not only that. Like this."

His rough, big, scared hands grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, the broad, red tip being the only part left inside your pussy and then pulled you back down harshly. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head at the sudden fullness. Arthur's eyes and smirk encouraged you to move just as he showed you. You did your best to but unlike him you weren't used to so much riding movement.

"Please tell me you're close. Arthur, please, I don't know how much longer I can..." What complaints you had were interrupted by your moans as Arthur bucked his hips into yours. Offering to help in his own, slightly self serving way.

"A few more, ya can make me come. I know ya wanna be my good girl, ya need to put those legs and hips to work. Come on now, roll up and down." He patted your thighs again, a little harder like he was discaplining you.

You sped up a bit, rocking the already shaky bed with your body slamming down onto his. The sounds of your moans might have been heard all the way dowmstairs but who cares. You were Arthur's, the rest could only dream of having you. "A good girl for you, that's what I want to be."

He snickered before he pulled you all the way down on his leangth, throbbing and shooting cum all over your spasming pussy walls. "Atta girl." Arthur whispered as you cuddled up against his chest.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[rubytuby]

winner winner

college!art donaldson x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none lol, just short and sweet :)

note: stanford art my beloved wow… that’s boyfriend, pookie even. also i have to say that i am a patrick girl and i'm cooking up something there for yall. let me know if you liked pleak!

As the sun beat down relentlessly on the Stanford practice court, every movement felt more grueling, the exhaustion seeping into your bones. After picking up stray balls for what seemed like the hundredth time, abandoning your racket and never looking back sounded more than enticing. Bending down to retrieve another ball, you could feel the pounding in your head, a dull throb forcing you to close your eyes. Your scalp was wet from sweat, and you could see your damp hair hanging in the corner of your eyes, clinging to your forehead as you moved. Stuffing the balls into your shorts pockets, you trudged back to the center of the court, wiping the sweat from your forehead with a sigh. 

Through half-lidded eyes, you blankly stared at hitting partner, Art Donaldson, who was looking right back at you with a big grin on his face. You cocked an eyebrow at him and shook your head impressed by his ability to look absolutely unphased by exertion. You felt another throb in your head and winced and placed your thumb and pointer finger over your eyes.

Art's grin faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Hey, you good?” he asked, stepping closer, genuinely worried for you.

You dropped your hand and waved him off, forcing a tired smile. “Yeah, yeah, just give me a sec,” you replied, though the pounding in your head was reminiscent of that one time at tennis camp when you almost got heat stroke.

Art eyed you skeptically, doubting your words. "Are you sure? You look like you might—"

"No, I can play," you interrupted him mid-sentence, your voice firm despite your fatigue. Art tilted his head to the side. "I swear I'm fine." You flashed him an exaggerated smile to prove your point.

Art’s eyebrows lifted slightly, lips curling into a subtle, amused smile. He knew you’d never call it quits, regardless of how tired you were. He then removed a ball from his pocket and held it out, shooting you a knowing look. You simply met his gaze with a blank expression. As you positioned yourself to receive the serve, he spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Alright, this one's gonna be 130. Ready?"

"If you keep taunting me, I might just forget we're here to play tennis and accidentally walk back to my dorm," you joked.

"Well, you know I wouldn't mind going back to your dorm," he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a tight-lipped smile, bucking your head in an effort to get him to stop talking and actually serve the ball. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and squinted against the beaming sun, silently cursing yourself for telling Art he could take whatever side of the court he wanted.

Art tossed the ball into the air and smacked the ball with his racket, you braced yourself, eyes locked on the ball's descent. With a swift motion, you swung your racket, the satisfying thwack of ball meeting strings reverberating through the air. Art effortlessly returned your hit and let out a soft grunt, initiating another rally. At this point in your practice, you had resigned yourself to serving each hit directly to Art, too tired to bother with tricking him. Art, though, seemingly wanted you to put the work in before you could call it a day. Hitting the ball just inside the front of the service box when you were way back by the center mark.

"If you wanted to win so badly, you could’ve just asked me to play nice," you remarked, words heavy with exasperation as you let the ball bounce off into the distance.

Art watched the ball roll away, silently celebrating. "Where's the fun in taking it easy?" he teased. "Maybe I wanted the challenge."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "Yeah, yeah," you replied. "I'm sure those distracting grunts are just part of your master plan to win, right?"

Art shrugged and walked over to you, leaning against the net. "Well, they're not meant to be distracting," he retorted, a smirk on his face. "But if they're taking you out of the game, maybe you're not cut out for this."

"Oh, please, last time I checked, the WTA and ATP didn't have any categories for grunts and groans," you said, turning your back to Art as you walked back to the baseline.

Art laughed, smile widening as he prepared to serve up another ball. "Maybe they should consider adding it," he quipped as he tossed the ball into the air. 

Art served the ball with a slice. You returned it with a swift backhand, and the rally began again. Each of you fell into a rhythm, the ball bouncing back and forth across the net.

"This is match point," you called out.

"If you say so," he replied, a confident grin spreading across his face.

The rally eventually grew more intense, each exchange faster and more furious than the last. Art’s eyes glinted as he positioned himself for the next shot. Suddenly, with a fluid and powerful motion, he sent the ball rocketing toward the far corner of the court. Your eyes followed its trajectory, a split second of realization dawning on you as you scrambled to reach it. But it was too late. The ball landed just beyond your outstretched racket, bouncing twice before coming to a stop. You halted and let out a frustrated groan, a pout forming on your lips.

Art watched as you dropped your racket and flopped down onto the court, frustration evident on your face. Laughing softly to himself, he sauntered over, picking up your racket along the way.

He leaned down next to you and patted your cheek, holding your racket out with a playful grin. "Tough break, champ," he teased.

You playfully tugged the racket from his hand and stood up, sticking out your tongue. "You live for these moments, don't you?"

Art grinned mischievously and nodded. "Oh, absolutely," he replied with a laugh. As the two of you strolled toward a nearby bench, he playfully snagged your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I swear to god I almost had it," you mused, shaking your head.

Art responded with mock dread, “Oh no, you lost for once, your reputation may never recover.” 

You both plopped onto the bench with a thud, limbs splayed out as you leaned back, panting heavily. The exhaustion from the intense rally was apparent in every breath you took, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

As you settled onto the bench, you placed your oversized bag on your lap and began rummaging for your water bottle. Art scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Then, after some serious searching, you unearthed your water bottle with a triumphant expression. Art feigned surprise, raising his eyebrows in mock astonishment before gently lifting your legs to rest across his lap, tracing his free hand against one of your knees. 

You brought the bottle to your lips and promptly you chugged down half of it in a couple of big gulps. Art stifled a laugh, watching you with amusement. "Thirsty?" he teased, nudging you playfully with his elbow.

You shot him a playful glare, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Shut up," you retorted, but the smile on your face betrayed your annoyance. He removed his hand from your shin and reached for your water bottle, but before he could grab it, you snaked it away from him, furrowing your brows and shaking your head.

"Nuh uh, what's the magic word?" You said, wagging your finger in his face.

Art raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to make me beg?" he teased, leaning closer to you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Maybe later,” you said, closing the gap between you two, smiling as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before handing him the water bottle.

Art grinned, taking the bottle from your hands. "Ok, now, can I please have a sip of water?"

You faked pondering for a moment. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

After taking a long drink, Art handed the bottle back to you with a smirk.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. "So, a rematch tomorrow?" you asked. "Coach says I need to work on my ‘’sloppy forehand’—whatever that means."

Art scoffed. "You? A ‘sloppy forehand’? Sounds like something he made up to get you to play harder," he teased.

"His words, not mine," you replied with a shrug.

Art leaned back against the bench, narrowing his eyes as he looked at you. "What if the loser buys dinner tomorrow?" he suggested.

You raised an eyebrow. "Is this your way of saying you’re tired of paying for me on every date?”

Art's expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's not that, you know I don't care," he said, voice tender. "I just thought it would be a fun incentive."

You looked off to the side and faked pondered before saying, "Alright, deal."

Art leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek in a gentle kiss. "Just so you know," he whispered into your ear, "I'm not planning on losing."

[iphyslitterator]

Getting out some more Airport 1975 Theory thoughts now that I've actually watched the movie (building on my earlier post):

The main strike against this theory is that it's too good to be true lol.

If they do Airport 1975 and Tommy isn't involved, that would admittedly be very funny 💀 Partial credit!

The flight in the movie is Columbia 409. If the flight number in the episode is 409, we will Know.

"Sick little girl who needs a kidney transplant" and "nun with guitar" are also dead giveaways.

There is plenty of downtime in the movie (thanks, autopilot), so I feel justified imagining a conversation between Tommy and Athena.

I really do love the idea of a few lines of Bobby/Athena dialogue early in 8x01 establishing that Athena has qualms about Tommy. It sets up a fun little bonding arc, which potentially serves as a muuuch lower-stakes mirror to wrestling with feelings about her fiancé's killer (can people change, when should you let the past go, etc.).

I think "Tommy lands the plane" and "Buck and Tommy fight about Gerrard" in the opening arc are mutually exclusive. I'd bet on, at most, one Bucktommy-only scene in 8x01 and one in 8x03 (and Tommy might not be in 8x01 at all).

Definitely doesn't make sense for Tommy to talk Athena through landing the plane from the ground - they don't need a helicopter pilot, they could get actual experts on the jet.

In the movie, rappelling into the plane is treated as an unprecedented terrifying stunt, and they get a specially-chosen military guy to go up in a military helicopter to try it. But he gets caught on some wreckage and falls to his death, so Charlton Heston (Nancy the stewardess's boyfriend and a very accomplished instructor on this type of plane) decides to go in and succeeds. Neither is a helicopter pilot.

The collision ripped a big hole in the cockpit, by the way, so if that doesn't happen on the show, it pretty much kills the rappelling theory.

To have Tommy's involvement "make sense" for people who know nothing about aviation (sorry), here's my pitch:

The collision happens at a fairly low altitude OR the plane starts losing altitude. Pilots are dead or incapacitated, and the door to the cockpit is blocked so no one can get in. Tommy and his copilot are already in the air dealing with the bees, and they happen to be the closest to the plane, which requires time-sensitive intervention. Tommy (movie buff) (unhinged) rappels into the cockpit and, guided by air traffic control on the radio, gets the plane stabilized and solves the immediate crisis.

Athena finally bursts into the cockpit. Tommy: "Sergeant Grant." Athena: "Firefighter Kinard? How did you get in here???" Tommy (catching his breath, wry manic smile): "Jumped." Cut to commercial.

Then they're in the air for another episode and a half because of damage to the plane and/or bees at the airport.

At the end of the movie, Charlton Heston says to the passengers, "Thank you for flying Columbia Airlines," and Tommy would look soooo hot doing that, he would deliver that line so good.

I've got to say, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun with a fan theory - even if it doesn't come true at all, it's been a pleasure 🫡

[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. Some fingering and teasing and dirty talk this chap

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8k 

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name.

Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right?

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2

You have no clue how you have survived these past couple of weeks, of watching Satoru… or Professor Dickhead… walk through the halls, like he owned them, hands in his pockets, dressed constantly like a million bucks. Of him lecturing your class, his eyes catching yours just so. Of his little comments, as he challenged you constantly in every class.

You mull over your day in class as you thumb through a philosophy book in the library.

"Let's consider another scenario.” He looks at you, and you sigh when he calls your name, he frequently gives you the hardest questions.

“Yes, Professor Gojo?” Professor Dickhead.

“Say you are a defense attorney representing a client accused of murder. The evidence against your client is overwhelming, and you even think that they may truly be guilty. However, your client confesses to you that they are innocent, and that the real killer is someone else who will strike again if they are convicted. What do you do?"

The question hangs in the air like a storm cloud, pressing down on you. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart racing in your chest. The class is silent, taking pity on you, as they usually did, since Gojo loved to throw advanced moral dilemmas your way.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I would have to do everything in my power to find the real killer, Professor Gojo. I would gather as much evidence as possible and investigate every lead, no matter how small. Even if it meant risking my client, I would not give up until justice was served."

There's a murmur of agreement from some of the students, but you can also sense the unease in the air. You can feel Professor Gojo's icy blue gaze burning into you, and you know that he's not just evaluating your answer, but he’s evaluating you , looking down your face, your lips, briefly at your chest, heating you up with every second he stands there.

"An admirable answer, I suppose." He says finally, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re bright fucking red on your cheeks and ears now. "But let's consider the consequences of that. If you were to go down this path, you might be seen as an obstructive defense attorney, who is so obsessed with the truth she hurts her client.”

You gulp, hating the way he leans on your desk, how he casually destroys your psyche. “With all due respect Professor Gojo, I disagree.”

He raises a brow, smirking, looking so handsome you wanna smack him. There had been nothing but shared looks for two weeks, you all had crossed no lines, but every move of his makes you ache, so you despise him more. “Oh? You disagree, do you? Explain, please.”

“What sort of attorney would I be if I don’t seek the truth?”

“A shit one for defense. You’re thinking about prosecution.” His voice is mocking, as he leans forward on your desk now. “Even so, what if despite your best efforts, you were unable to find the real killer? Your client's fate rests solely on your shoulders."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. The weight of his words is crushing, and you can't help but wonder if you've made the right choice, being here, you begin to feel those hits of doubt. Professor Gojo's gaze pierces you like a knife, making you feel exposed.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself. "My responsibility as their lawyer is to provide them with the best possible advice and guidance of course, while also upholding my own personal values. I will not put those aside."

The classroom is silent as your words hang in the air. You can feel the tension building, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see how this will play out. You glance over at Professor Gojo, and his expression is unreadable, as his lips then turn up, into a little smirk, shocking you.

“You stand by your convictions, even if it fucks you over? Fucks over your entire career?” His voice raises a bit, that silken timbre hitting hard. You nod, and the bell thankfully rings. “We’ll touch more on that next week.”

The class files out, and so many people go up to him, to his desk, to ask questions or to talk, you slip out quickly, heart fucking racing. He seemed to delight in putting you on the spot, in pushing his experience and authority on you. It was overwhelming. But in a weird way, it gives you some fucking insane thrill, one you question…

***

You peek at your phone, Maki is inviting you to a party tonight. Though at the same school, you all don’t see each other much, in different dorms and different classes. You answer with an ambiguous maybe, sighing when you think of the last time you went out… when that infuriating man made you cum so fucking hard you throb thinking of it.

Fucking Gojo.

You thumb through the book, as a pretty girl comes in, wearing a gorgeous red business suit. She smiles at you, her hair is a dark brown with bangs that gently frame her face, she has a little scar on her cheek that seems to only make her more captivating. She walks to you, smiling.

“Heard Professor Gojo is giving you a hard time, huh?” You flush at that, looking down a bit. “I’m Professor Geto’s teaching assistant. Utahime.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Utahime. I've seen you around.” You stand and shake her hand, which has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Of course. I've been getting started at this new position. But Gojo? He’s a shithead.” You snort at that, and she grins. “He’s a damn good lawyer, and teacher, but he pushes hard. He pushed me very hard, I think I contemplated killing him and being my own attorney.”

You burst out laughing then, you instantly like her. “He’s a challenging professor, which I enjoy, but he certainly is-”

“Fucking gorgeous? I know ladies, you don’t have to go on about it.” Gojo walks in, his Gucci shades on, thankfully covering those ridiculous eyes of his, and his hair is casually falling over his forehead. Utahime scowls at him.

“You fucking wish, Gojo.” He sticks his tongue out at her, she flips him off, and you can’t stop your giggle.

“Something funny, Miss Brat?” He demands, staring at you, and Utahime shoves at him now. He runs around the empty library as she smacks at him.

“Gojo, do not even!”

“What Hime, jealous? Ouch!” She thwacks him good then, and you’re enamored how wild these ‘professionals’ are. In a way it’s kinda fucking awesome.

“Her name isn’t Miss Brat . Get your shit together, god.”

“You’re still sad I didn’t fuck you that night, hmm? After all these years! Ow, shit that hurts! That’ll leave a fucking mark!”

“I never wanted to fuck you, dickhead. Ugh. Anyway, let me know if you need anything…” She says your name, turning from a vicious little thing to a sweetheart, you smile at her, and Gojo scowls.

“I will, I really appreciate that! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Bye hunny.” She waves, scowling at Gojo as she shoves past him, and he huffs.

“Bye Hime!” She flips him off again, storming out, and you’re in a fit of giggles now, until his gaze catches you, pushing down those round shades just so. “Well, Miss Brat, whatchya reading hmm?”

He snatches the book from your hands, and you glare up at him, standing up and trying to grab it, but fucker was way too tall, you end up hopping up as he grins like some psycho, holding it out of your reach. You huff and he peers up at it, pursing those pretty glossy lips of his.

“Hmm… didn’t take you for an Aristotle girl.” He muses, and you sigh, sitting back down, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, and he pulls a chair, spinning it and straddling it, resting his arms on the back casually. You gulp, thinking how fucking hot he looks, shoving that down hard.

“Figured you’d like Plato.  Aristotle is a bit too logical for someone as feisty as you.” He says, flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning over it.

“I can be logical…” He smirks at that. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?” You ask, and he smirks, placing the book down in front of you, leaning across with those stupid long arms. All of him was stupid long… 

Fuck.

“Blushing? From me just near you?” He taunts, leaning closer, you take a shaky breath, inhaling that likely expensive cologne he wore that made him even more delectable to you.

Fuck Fuck.

“No, it's just warm in here.” He laughs at your lie, and you pick the book back up, flipping to the page you were on and trying to ignore him.

“Hmm, I have an idea, Miss Brat.”

“That’s not my name, Professor Dickhead. What’s the idea?” Your eyes narrow as he slides off his shades, those glittering eyes boring into your face.

“Write a ten page essay on this book.” He taps the philosophy book you’re reading, you frown at that.

“I have enough work to do. Why extra, on philosophy?”

“Because you’ll get a reward for it. Something no one gets as a first semester, let alone a first year. What ya think?” You bite your lip a bit, taking a shaky little breath. “You’re tempted, hmm?”

“What reward?” Your eyes narrow, and he throws back his head with laughter, making you flush more.

“Not anything like that, you’re such a pervy little brat.” You scowl, standing then and gathering your books. He grips your wrist, your throat goes dry at the touch, looking down at him and his fucking grin. “Stop, you haven’t even heard me out.”

You exhale, yanking your arm back, hating what every little brush of his skin did to your body. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll take you on a field trip.” He says with a grin, you roll your eyes, snorting, before laughing hard. He glares, yanking your wrist again. “Excuse me, Miss Brat, I am your professor. You’re so disrespectful.”

“Sorry. A field trip? To where, the Zoo, Sir?” You keep giggling, and he stands, shutting them up when he’s just an inch from you with that hard body. You exhale, biting your lip again, and he gently puts his thumb to your lip, easing it from out of your teeth, shooting desire hard through your entire body.

“I wish corporal punishment was still a thing. I’d whip the fuck out of you.” He glares, and you don’t laugh then, because the thought of Gojo bending you over his desk smacking you? Yeah that did insane things…

“Sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You manage, sighing and looking up at him, clutching your books nervously to your chest. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll bring you to the case I’m working on, it’s a big one-”

“The fucking case where where the politician’s son is accused of killing that prostitute?” You interrupt, your eyes wide, he smirks.

“You would know what case I'm in. Stalker .”

You roll your eyes. “Not at all… but of course I know about it. It’s all over the news and everything. I heavily follow cases. How the fuck can I get on that? Like would the school let me?”

“Easy, write the essay. Impress me, and I’ll get the approval for it. You’re a star student already, it should be easy for you to come along. Maybe it’ll help you decide on a major, seeing the real world of law, hmm?” He suggests, and you nod eagerly. “Knew you’d be in for it. One more condition.”

“What, anything!” He smirks at your enthusiasm, and you brush your hair back nervously.

“I need it done by tomorrow. And you’ll read it out to me.” You frown at that, brows knitting, as you think of the work you’re swamped with. “If you can read it proficiently, under pressure, I’ll take you.”

“Under pressure?” You sigh when he smirks again. “Fuck… I mean… yeah, I’ll do it. I can.”

“Exactly what I thought.” He brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, and you tense, eyes locking on his lips. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“Um… yeah, I do a lot.”

“Not face makeup. Usually just your eyes.” You blink at that, wishing you could make your heart stop racing inside your chest.

“Ah… I mean, maybe that’s true. I looked a little pale so I threw on some bronzer.”

“Hmm. You don’t need it.” He backs away now, hands in his pockets, and you can just barely breathe now. How did he notice things like that? “All right, I’ll see you in my office at five pm sharp with it.”

You fidget, peeking at your watch. You had less than twenty hours and that was with no sleep. “I will be there with it.”

“All right Miss Brat, hop to it.” He winks at you as he walks out, so casually, and you sink back down into the chair, fucking breathless. The scariest shit? You were just as excited to spend time with Satoru as you were to see this court case, what the fuck did that say about you?

You pull out your laptop, getting to work, the library isn’t busy at this time, so you can focus on the essay without distraction. As you write, you can’t help but think of Satoru, his touch, his smell, his voice. You shake your head, focusing on the words in front of you, you could do this, you could totally knock out a ten page essay for a chance at this.

***

The next day you’re fucking drained, going through each lecture exhausted, to the point Professor Geto stopped you after class, concerned look on his handsome face, and Utahime also comes to you. She’s frowning, and you hold in your yawn, struggling to smile.

“I’m fine you all, just had an extra credit thing for Mr. Gojo.” Professor Geto smirks then, rolling his eyes, and Utahime huffs.

“Dear god, what extra credit!” Utahime whispers, and you laugh a bit at her expression, shaking your head.

“Not anything crazy. A ten page essay on this book about Aristotle he found me reading.” You hold it up, and Professor grabs it, with his elegant hands, humming a bit to himself as he studies your face then.

“Huh, Aristotle? Would take you for a Plato girl.” You giggle then, so tired you’ve lost it, yawning wide.

“Satoru…. I mean shit.” You freeze, and they both look at you curiously, making you flush red. “Professor Gojo said that too.”

“Mmm, we are best friends, makes sense.” He hands it back to you with a smile, Professor Geto was devastatingly handsome with his angled features and long hair. Another model to fuck with all of you students.

He held himself with a quiet allure, confident but not overtly insane like Satoru… Professor Gojo… fuck. You needed to be more careful.

“He shouldn’t be giving her extra work.” Utahime says to Geto, and he sighs, looking at you with chocolate eyes.

“Well, what’s the reward?” You grin at that.

“Going to his court case tomorrow.”

“Well your eyes lit right up.” Geto muses, and even Utahime nods. 

“I’d have done it too.” She comes to you and rubs your shoulder softly. “You’re done with it already?”

“Mmhmm. I have to read it to him though, ugh.”

Geto is just grinning now, and Utahime rolls her eyes. “Satoru is such a little shit, I swear. Just go in with confidence, you’ll do well.” He also touches your shoulder gently with a little smile.

You smile at them both. “Thank you all. Promise I’ll get to sleep tonight! Shit, what time is it?”

“Four fifty.”

“I gotta go! Bye!” You run out of the classroom then, exhaling as you head to Gojo’s office.

You knock on the door when you get there, and he calls out for you to enter. The office is surprisingly neat when you walk in it, a stark contrast to the chaos he brings into your life you think, but his classroom was also impeccable, so it makes sense. He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at you with those piercing eyes, leaning his chin on his hands with a smirk, looking fucking irresistable as ever.

“You’re just on time. Good.” You walk over and place the essay down. “Ah-ah. You're reading it to me, remember?”

You bite your lip, exhaling nervously, taking the paper back, then you squeak in surprise as he picks you up, sitting you on his big black desk. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s gone to lock his door, a loud click resonating, your thoughts run fucking crazy when he’s behind you, taking your hair down out of its bun, bobby pins scattering along the desk.

“What the fuck?” You look up at him incredulously, but he just has a huge grin, his fangs glistening in the soft light of his office.

“Remember I said you’d read it under pressure?” You scowl, as he walks slowly around the desk until he’s in front of you, looming so tall, bending over until his lips are just a breath away.

You clear your throat, tilting your head back to look at him. “What about it has to do with my hair down?”

His grin grows, and he gently places a thumb and forefinger under your chin. “Nothing, I just like your hair down.”

“You’re such a shithead.” He chuckles at that, then eyes you intently.

“What is pressuring is how you feel for me.” Your mouth drops open, and you’re sputtering for a moment, opening and closing it. “You can’t act like it’s not true, just a touch…” He barely brushes a bare thigh, you hold in your moan. “Makes you tremble. And just a…” He leans in so close, breath hot against your lips. “Yeah, it makes you bright fucking red.”

“Does not.” You glare, and he just shakes his head with that annoying smirk plastered on his face, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your body now.

“Your thighs shift when you are watching me in class.” You bite back another moan, struggling to keep still, but you fail, your thighs do fucking move together. “Just like that. Think I didn't notice?” His blue eyes hit yours, and your resolve wavers.

“So my thighs shift… So what?” He leans even closer, and his thumbs brush the sensitive part of your inner thighs, making you fucking wet immediately, and you hate him for it.

“You wriggle your hips when you watch me too. Like this.” He takes them in his hands, pressing you hard on the desk, and you can’t stop the whine that comes from the back of your throat. “Need that friction hmm?”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You whisper, feeling tears prick your eyes then, your breaths coming in little pants. “Why do this? Why push me so goddamn hard, call me out all the fucking time, with some advanced essay request? Do you really fucking dislike me so much-”

“Dislike?” He cuts you off with a glare, and you blink rapidly, swiping the little tears that fell. “You’re not as smart as I thought.”

“And you call me unintelligent! What the fuck even is this?” You go to get down and he holds you there, hands on your waist, so big they nearly cover it, squeezing and making you moan again. “Fuck, you…”

“I push you because I see potential.” He cuts you off then, and you meet his gaze, which has grown serious. “I’m doing this because…” He trails off, easing his grip and sliding his hands down your body. “Because I’m masochistic.”

You sniffle a bit, shaking your head. “You’re pushing me so hard.”

“I know. And I won’t stop.” He tilts your chin again, making you gaze at that pretty fucking face. “Now, the point is, your desire for me makes you unfocused. It’s a challenge. So we use it, and you push through it, can you do it?”

You tremble, hands hot and sweaty. You suck in a breath, shutting your eyes for a moment and focusing. You wanted to deny it, to not admit what was blatantly obvious to this conceited man. But… “Yes. I can do it.”

“Good girl.” His hands brush your hair back as he murmurs those words, in that deep timbre, you…

Fuck.

“Don’t say that.” You hate what it does to you, his words, that shit eating grin when your watery eyes open.

“Now, begin, Miss Brat. Let’s see how you handle this.” His breath is against your neck again, tickling delicate skin, making you shiver. “If you do well, you’re in tomorrow. I won’t push anything too far either, just enough to throw you off. Okay?”

You nod, realizing the challenge he was throwing, and you pick up your papers, reading out loud in the most confident voice you can muster. “Aristotle's idea of natural law holds that certain principles are inherent in human nature. That has helped to shape the development of natural law theory. Mmnh…” Saroru’s big hands brush up your thighs, making you wetter between them, you struggle to focus.

“Continue on, Miss Brat, you’ve just begun.” You clench your teeth as his fingers brush little circles, hypnotizing you, taking over all of your damn senses.

“Aristotle's emphasis on human reason and the balance between individual rights and social order has influenced the development of constitutionalism, far more than his counterparts or teachers. Plato and Socrates for example… unh. Fuck!” He laughs as he kisses your thigh, bent down between you, and your eyes go wide. Just a brush of his lips, you drop the paper.

He bends down to grab it, his breath so close to where you ache for him you feel tears prick your eyes. He smirks as he hands it back to you, leaning in close now. “So that’s what really gets you, does it remind you of that night?” He purrs the fucking words, and you clench your jaw so hard it hurts. “Does it?”

“Yes, fuck. Ugh.” You look away, and you hate it when he’s leaned against you again, as he’s read you like a book.

“Continue on, you can do this.” He orders, so casually, like he wasn't destroying your mind.

You take a breath, struggling to keep it together, when he decides to run his fingers through your hair now, reading more of the essay. You struggle not to just arch your head and enjoy it, but no, you’ve gotta fucking focus. “Aristotle's concept of justice as a balance between extremes has influenced legal theories, especially when it comes to justice as we know it… Fuck… please…”

“Shh.” His breath is hot on your ear, he nips the earlobe just so with his sharp teeth, flicking his tongue on it. You clench your thighs tight, damn near aching with how bad you want him. “Keep going, baby girl. Remember, you’re under pressure.”

You struggle to focus as the words jumble further on your paper. “Ethics is the most emphasis surely, as his focus on human character has led to a greater focus on ethical considerations in decision-making. It brings to light all of the things that make human beings tick and…”

You inhale sharply when he's behind you, brushing your hair to the side with one hand, then sliding off your blazer. “Aww, you’re a whole Aristotle stan, aren’t you baby girl? I’m so intrigued.”

 “Professor Gojo…” You trail off, he has his big hands on your shoulders, burning you through the blouse with his touch.

“You're doing really well.” He praises you, and you are surprised as fuck. “Keep going, pretty. Almost done.”

“Fuck…” You shake yourself out of it. “As for Aristotle's methodology, which emphasized empirical observation and scientific inquiry, it has influenced the development of evidence based decision making in law. It makes… mmm…”

Satoru is in front of you, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek. “No bronzer today hmm?” You flush, shaking your head. “Good, you have a natural blush when around me. Continue.” His face is buried in your hair, then soft lips kiss your temple. You're trembling so bad, trying to hold it together.

“Aristotle's concept of stability and continuity has influenced the development of legal systems as we know it. Without Aristotle's advanced ideas, we may have been much further behind. His ideas… carry…” You're almost done when he brushes his hands down the side of your breasts, blue eyes locked on yours.

“You're so close, pretty. Finish. ” He watches your back arch when he brushes his thumbs over the taut nipples, over your lacy bra and the blouse, you nearly lose it. But you finish. You fucking do it.

“To…to conclude, Aristotle's ideas have had a profound impact on various aspects of legal thought and practice, and they are still shaping the way we think about law today.”

“Good," He says, his voice gruff. "It's good."

You look up at him, your heart racing, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the very room seems to hold its breath, and you can feel the electricity flickering between you. The tension is so palpable you could reach out and touch it, he is unusually quiet and serious, when you lean in slightly, your body betrays you, and he mirrors the movement, his face just inches from yours.

“Was it okay, Satoru? Really?” You whisper, he cups your face, nodding, and you're even closer, your hand is pulling on his tie, you can taste his minty breath, tempting you further.

“It was really good. I wouldn’t say if not. Especially for one day.” His fingers play along the neckline of your blouse, brushing your collarbone, he leaves goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Thank you… I…”

But before anything happens, there is a knock on the door. Thank god, what even could happen between you two that would be anything other than an entire disaster?

“Busy.” Gojo mutters, and they seem to leave. He exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment and resting his forehead on yours, holding your face gently, before pulling back and staring down at you.

“What is it?” You murmur, and he shakes his head, sighing.

“You look so hot on my damn desk. This image is gonna be burned in my fucking brain.” He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

“I…” You trail off, letting go of his tie and looking down. “Sorry, I got carried away a bit I think.”

“You?” He scoffs at that, and leans in again, barring you with his arms against the desk, gaze devouring you. “You get to go. You did a really good job.”

“Oh my god! Really?” He nods, and you grin, throwing your arms around his neck eagerly and hugging him. He tenses, and you ease away, but he pulls you back against him, standing up and holding you.

You’re dangling there in his arms as you hug him tightly, and you bury your face in his neck for a moment, feeling how good that hard body is on yours, his thrumming heart against your aching breasts. How good he smells, you want to inhale his scent forever. How much this reminds you of that night, of the guy you instantly fucking liked and wanted.

You…

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Got carried away again.” You murmur, and he eases you down, hands not leaving your little waist, he looks down at you, so intense, you can see your desire mirrored in him. In his parted lips. In his hooded eyes. “I'm tired and not thinking right.”

“Don’t apologize.” He says, voice husky.

“I’m really excited.” You ease your arms down, struggling to come down to Earth, to reality, which is damn near impossible, as you can hear your panting breaths and loud heartbeat in his quiet office.

“I’m glad. It’ll be in the morning, so just make sure to prep.” You nod eagerly, then turn to grab your things off his desk, and you’re against him again. He hisses, gripping you tight around your hips, thumbs pushing into your lower back.

You look back over your shoulder. “Satoru?”

“Why is your ass so goddamn nice? Especially in this fucking skirt.” He demands through clenched teeth, and you feel his hands tighten further, bruising grip, as he presses you against the desk.

“Fuck…” You manage to cry out, covering your mouth, when you feel his length hot and hard against the small of your back.

“Yeah, fuck.” He mutters, his hands grab your hair tight then, still loose and flowing, and you arch your head back, fucking uncaring at this point. He could fuck you then and there and you’d literally say thank you.

Why did he make you like this?

“Satoru…” It’s a little whine, his name.

“Why does my name sound so good on those fucking lips?” He’s muttering the words through gritted teeth, and pulls your head until you face him. “Do you know how badly I wanna bend you over this desk and feel that tight cunt around me?”

You manage a shake of your head, blinking rapidly, his hands slide your skirt up, and you grind your ass back for more, moaning. You know you all can’t do it, you fucking know, but the thoughts… the touches…  when he pulls the fabric of your skirt as he pulls your hair, and you breathe into each other's lips.

“We… shouldn’t… right?” You manage, his lips ghosting above yours, before easing his grip. He exhales, kissing your shoulder, sliding your skirt down, leaning over you to grab your blazer.

“I… ahem…” He puts on a smirk suddenly. “I know I get you so horny and wet, but control yourself, Miss Brat.”

‘You fucking ass!” You turn around and shove him hard, he snatches you up, wrapping the blazer around your shoulders, laughing.

“Am I wrong? Bet she’s soaked.” He slides his hand back up, and it takes everything in you to smack his hand.

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead.” You huff, pushing past him.

“Wait…” You turn to him, glaring, and he’s got his hand running through that silvery white hair again, messing it up, making this literal perfect man look just a bit human.

“What?”

“Let me take you to your dorm. It’s gonna rain.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “No?”

“It’s not gonna rain. It was nice out…” Thunder claps in the background, making you jump a bit, and he just smirks. You wanna smack him. “I’ll go out in it.”

Now he glares at you. “You wanna be soaked? More than you already are.” He looks down at your lap again, you turn away. “Jesus, you're so stubborn. Will you please let me?”

“Whatever, why?” He walks past you, unlocking the door.

“You gotta be presentable tomorrow, not all sick because you got drenched. Come on, it's not like it’ll be long.” He grabs an umbrella, a long clear one, and snatches up his briefcase as well.

You quietly follow him out of the office, and through the school, until you’re at the door and see how badly it is raining, pouring down and the wind is going insane, making rain swirl around. Gojo opens the door for you, popping the giant umbrella out and putting it on top of you both.

It’s a downpour, soaking everything in seconds, except for the two of you under the clear shelter of the umbrella. You can feel the heat of his body through the fabric as he holds you close, and even with the chill of the rain, it’s like you’re on fire. Every step you take is a battle against the urge to lean into him, to let him consume you, to just say fuck it and epic kiss in the rain.

You can’t.

You don’t.

You keep walking, trying to keep your mind on anything but how badly you want to feel his hands all over you again, a mere tease, making you shiver as you all near his car, a fancy silver sports car likely worth more than anything you’ve ever seen. He opens the door, holding the umbrella still, and you climb in quickly, shivering as he comes to the other side.

Gojo revs up the engine, and the car lights up, you’re trembling as you watch his big hand wrap around the gear shift, putting the car into drive, but he looks at you first, catching your hungry fucking gaze and smirking. 

“Seatbelt, Miss Brat.” You giggle a bit, breathless, sliding it in with trembling hands.

“Sorry.” You manage, and then the car zips through the soaking wet streets. You find yourself enamored by him, by every clench of his jaw, by the way his hand grips the steering wheel.

“Need to take a picture?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, sighing, hugging the blazer around you a bit.

“Should have asked you that with me on your desk.” He smirks at that, his blue eyes catch yours just so, the windshield working overtime as you all sit at the stop sign, waiting.

“I’ve got a whole fucking mental picture I’ll use later.” You feel overheated, your chest tight with his words, fidgeting with your hands, exhaling. The rain is spattering on the roof, and it’s just you and him, together, side by side. No school, no bar, nothing but you and… “You okay? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, just cold.” You lie straight up, shivering more. But you know it’s not the cold. It’s him. It’s the way he makes you feel, full of fucking desire that throbs through you.

“Want the heat on?” He asks softly, you shake your head, smiling over at him, as the car speeds through the wet streets, the rain beating a rhythmic pattern on the windshield, the wipers swiping back and forth in a hypnotizing dance. All of it was making your resolve lower.

“No, it's a quick ride, don’t worry.” You murmur, tensing when one of his hands goes to your thighs then, hot and burning on your chilled skin, goosebumps rising where he touches. You can feel your heart racing, your breathing getting heavier.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He says, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, and you blush harder than you thought possible as you look at him, realizing you all were at a stop now.

“Don’t say things like that, please… you don’t understand what they do to me.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, avoiding that gaze.

“Baby girl… I know what it does to you.” His hand climbs higher, and you can’t breathe, it’s like the car is suffocating you now.

“Then don’t.” You manage to bite out, and Satoru turns back to the road, continuing to drive in the rain, and the car ride is tense, the scent of his cologne fills the small space intermingling with your own scent.

As you pull up to your dorm, you finally dare to glance at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark and intense, watching you, his gaze going down to where his hand is on your thigh. You shift in your seat, internally cursing, slick desire dripping down through your inner thighs even, so close to where his hand was it would only take the smallest inch further to reveal it.

"Listen," he says, his voice low and serious. "This isn't going to be a cakewalk. You're coming to a serious case tomorrow. You need to be on your toes."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I understand. I'll be ready."

“And you won’t be interfering.” He slides his hand fucking higher, and your heart is racing now. “You don’t smack my hand away. Why?”

“You even have to ask?” You bit out, looking at him now, your lips parting, his eyes dart to them, hunger in their blue depths.

“You should smack it away.” He says, husky, and you go to take his hand off you, but you falter, instead you grip it, sliding it up that inch, to where his thumb feels it, feels the sticky wetness on you. He exhales, gripping you tightly, sliding his hand up until it comes in contact with your dripping cunt.

“Fuck…” You curse, when his thumb brushes you over your panties, and he exhales, moaning, leaning over you, and you all sit there for a moment, the rain thundering around you, your heart beating so loud it’s all you can hear.

“Saoaking fucking wet.” He murmurs, swirling his finger again and pressing up, and you fucking lose it, moaning, arching your hips up, gripping onto his business jacket, your lips right next to him.

“We shouldn’t…” You whisper, and then cry out when his long fingers stroke you up and down. “I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t be…”

“Why don’t you let me get you off real quick?” Satoru murmurs, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your panties now, moaning when he fully feels you, and you’re already gushing from just that.

“Fuck… Satoru… “ You hiss at his touch. “I can’t get it out of my fucking head. And I hate you for that.” You mumble, he tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing as he slides a finger up in you, and you throb around it, cries loud in the little car, louder than the pouring rain.

“You hate me, hmm?” He whispers, and you nod, tears pricking your eyes when he crooks his finger now, breath against your lips, you grind shamelessly in the chair, tummy clenching when he finds that spot.

“Yes. Fuck you for knowing my body somehow. And… fuck… mmmn…” Your eyes flutter shut when he crooks up again, hitting the little spot again, you see stars and black dots everywhere, cursing.

“Well guess what?” He leans even further, even closer, brows drawing low. “Fuck you for this perfect little pussy. Fuck you for being so wet.” You’re whining, pathetic now, tears pricking your eyes, as he slides his finger out, leaving you gasping.

“Fuck you completely.” You shove at him, and he scowls, then brings his finger to his mouth, sucking you off him, moaning, shutting his eyes, so fucking sexy. “Fuck you for looking like that!”

“Fuck you for tasting so fucking good.” He growls, and you’re both panting, your wetness is on his full lips. “I thought it was just alcohol, but nope. You taste as good as I remember. Now I think of eating you out while you’re at your fucking seat in class.”

“I think about sucking your dick under the fucking desk. So.” He blinks at that, and you turn insanely red, looking away. “And fuck you for that too.”

“Fuck you for always eye fucking me in class.” He growls the words, yanking your hair back, dominating every bit of your body and mind.

“Fuck you for… just fuck you, Satoru.” You’re crying now, and he’s watching you, smirking at you.

“ Are you crying ?” Your fingers itch to smack him, you shake your head, and you all sit there for a second, the rain getting harder, the windows fogging up with the heat from you two in the car, and you want to fucking kiss him so badly... You want to grab his hair and pull him into you, so he doesn’t stop, so he never stops.

But you don’t.

Because you’re both fucking insane, and you’re in a car, outside your fucking dorm. So instead you sit there, panting, trembling, staring at him, and he at you, as his grip loosens just slightly, as you feel yourself getting so wet your panties are ruined just like the damn night you met him.

“Not crying.” You say, firmly, and he smirks down you, so fucking charming and gorgeous you wanna smack him.

“You don’t wanna get off, baby girl?” He whispers, sliding his hand back down your waist, making you make some pathetic wine he seemed to enjoy.

“Of course I do, but where does it lead? Me fucking riding you in the car?” He grins big then. “Satoru…”

“You can’t just get off? You gotta fuck me hmm?”

“I need to go.” You unsnap your seatbelt, shaking hands fumbling, he slides his hands off you, unbuckling it for you.

“Poor baby can’t function, huh?” You glare again at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Gonna be all horny in the court room, how can you go?”

“I’ll use my rose toy.” At that his eyebrows shoot up, and you cover your mouth, falling back in your seat. “Fucking ignore that.”

“I am going to need a video of that.” You shove him, and he’s laughing at you now, with that pretty grin of his. It sucks.

This sucks.

“You wish, Professor Dickhead.” You go to open the door, peering at how bad it’s still down pouring.

He’s out of the car in a moment, then he’s opening yours, holding the umbrella up high so that you two are back under it together, he’s looking down at you, that white hair just a little wet. You errantly brush it back, then put your hand down, flushing, realizing where you were, who you both were. He takes the hand then, leading you to the doorway, which had an overhang.

“I’ll be here at 8 AM sharp, Miss Brat.” He murmurs, still too close, body still up against yours. You nod, shy suddenly, next to the man that had just tasted you, your fucking Professor. “Want my number?”

“What? No.” He laughs at you, white teeth showing, and it lights up his stupidly pretty face.

“Do you know how many women would die for my number?” You shrug, and he continues to laugh. “You’re such a little brat.”

“Am not. I just don’t want it.” You look down, at his exposed neck, where the knot of his tie had come loose, and your shaky hands go to slide the knot back up, you hear his hitch of his breath, see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“If you’re going to this case we need to keep in contact. I won’t be sending you dick pics, you’re not that lucky.” He winks and you chuckle against your own will, shaking your head and smoothing your hand down his tie.

“Mmm, true. You won’t get any videos either, Professor Dickhead.” He pouts at that, taking his phone out of his pocket then.

“My heart’s broken. But don’t worry.” He leans close, whispering in your ear, tickling it like crazy, making you throb with need. “I remember exactly how that pretty pussy looks.”

“Fuck off.” You whisper, pathetically, you don’t move, and you don’t mean it, though. Pathetic for this idiot professor who was ruining you with casual, silly little fucking movements. “Hate you.”

“I hate you . Hate how good you smell. Taste. Annoying brat.” You pull back to glare up at him, meeting his scowl. “Take my number, brat, and count yourself lucky to have it.”

“Conceited dick.” You take out your phone, and scan his little code, he pops right up in your phone. You giggle maniacally when you change his name in there, and he scowls at you.

“What’s so funny, brat?” You show him his name - Professor Dickhead- and he rolls his eyes, glaring at his phone, then smirking maniacally back, when he snaps a pic of you so quick it throws you off.

“What? Satoru!” You yank and hop up and he finally lets you see the phone, and it’s literally a pic of your cleavage in a top that’s ever so sheer and wet, with the name ‘Miss Brat’. “Dick!”

“Bitch.” You huff, turning away, and he snatches you by your wrist. “Don’t you want a picture of me?”

“Nope, sure don’t. I see you enough and it annoys me.” His laugh is hot against your neck.

“You’re a good liar, that will make you a great lawyer.” You turn to glare up at him, his touch eases, he’s just barely brushing his fingers down your hand now. You ache to hold his hand in your own, to entwine your fingers in his.

“Really, thank you, I am excited for tomorrow.” You whisper, and he sighs, hands releasing you now. You are just standing in front of him in the rain, under the cocoon the umbrella keeps you all in, hearing his breaths behind you.

“You’re welcome, little brat. Maybe if this works out and you bust your nice little fucking ass…” You yelp when he pinches you, whirling back around. “Then you’ll be in line to earn that internship. You’ve got a few months still, but…”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. He shrugs, casually.

“If you can keep up with how hard I’m going to push you.” The words take on something else, your mind is fucking wrecked you realize.

“I can take it.” He smiles at that, touching your chin gently.

“All right, go on in, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You dash inside, and your heart is fucking pounding, when you’re up in your room you hop out of all your clothes, wincing when you slide off the underwear that’s just sticking to your goddamn thighs now. You start the shower, cursing internally as you peek at your phone, at his goddamn number.

You’d been ready to fuck this guy on his desk, on his car…

And you had shit for experience.

You wouldn’t say it, but it made it all even worse, you were so far out of your wheelhouse as it was. You struggle not to touch yourself in the damn shower, to not push this all way further than it needed to be, but you find your clit and lean back against the tile wall.

Images of him fill your head, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes had gone dark blue when he touched you. The way his voice had gotten all low and gruff when he said he fucking hated you. You start moaning out loud, as you slip your fingers in, stroking fast, but it’s nothing like just one of his ridiculously long fingers, you can’t hit that damn spot.

You go back to rubbing your clit because at this point it’s puffy and so sensitive it happens fast. You come hard, gripping the little shower bar and leaning, your knees wobbling, feeling like a damn mess, and it’s all because of him. When you’re done you slump against the wall, panting, so confused what this man made you into.

He’d make fun of you if he knew.

You step out, sighing, drying up and then getting ready for the next day, planning your outfit, planning what to bring with you. This was an insanely serious case, one of the biggest, all over the television, and you had watched Satoru on them, he was fucking the best, not that you’d stroke his ego and tell him.

Your phone lights up when you’re settled down under the blankets, and you see his number and name pop up.

Professor Dickhead: Good night, Miss Brat.

How did something so simple make you nearly tear up again? You exhale, hand shaking as you swipe it up and open the messages. You nervously bite your lower lip, lips that ached for a goddamn kiss, one you had almost three months ago now. You couldn’t get the taste off your mind. You hate this.

You: Good Night… Satoru.

Not professor Dickhead, for some reason, it didn’t fit at the moment.

Well…

Satoru Gojo hearts the message you sent, and you hate the stupid smile on your face that it brings, the smile that lingers as you fall asleep, and you dream of him, anticipating the next day, such a huge day for you and your career, but also, spending time with him.

Fucking Professor Gojo.

Chapter 3

Ch 2 Ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/145101856#workskin

[calicomarie11]

WIP Wednesday

Tommy heard a knock at the door and frowned. He didn’t have any plans tonight. Originally, he and Evan were going to host a game night and after the break up he couldn’t bring himself to make alternate arrangements. His only plans for the night were demolishing a pizza and six-pack while watching whatever sporting event he could find on tv.

He opened the door and watched in confusion as Evan pushed past him, followed by Hen and Eddie. They were carrying cases of beer, bags clinking with bottles and rustling with chips. They flowed into the kitchen, chatting with each other and completely ignoring Tommy’s outraged huff.

He followed them, watching as they started putting the beer in the fridge, Evan pulling out serving bowls for the chips and Eddie being trusted to open the dips.

“What the hell do you think you all are doing?” Tommy spluttered out.

“Setting up for game night,” Evan answered with a cheeky grin.

“I assumed that was canceled, given the fact that we broke up,” Tommy said firmly.

“Except we didn’t break up and we were not about to give up on everyone being off tonight with a day off tomorrow. It took too long to get this scheduled to cancel it,” Evan said as he continued to arrange cheese, meat and crackers on Tommy’s charcuterie board. A board Tommy only had because Evan had brought it over the first time they hosted game night and had never taken it back.

“Buck, you can’t just invade my house like this,” Tommy protested. “I might have had plans.”

The look Evan shot him was equal parts unimpressed and sardonic. “Do you?”

“Well, no. But still…” Tommy trailed off.

“Then go change out of your sweats and make yourself pretty. The rest of the guests will be here any minute.” Evan shooed him out of his kitchen and Tommy went, confused and off balance.

He walked to his bedroom on auto-pilot and grabbed a pair of jeans and a navy Henley from his drawers. He changed and wandered out of his bedroom to the sound of laughter and chatting.

Entering his living room he saw that Lucy and Nick had arrived to complete the party. He was glad that Nick was there, as the person he counted on to be in his corner, and Lucy as his closest co-worker. Even if she did know the 118 from before, they had bonded when she started at Harbor.

Nick was the only one there he could count on to be wholly his friend. They had met when Tommy was newly out and trying to navigate the intense dynamics of the LA gay scene. They’d met through Grindr and Nick had clocked him right away as being new. To his credit, instead of shutting him down, he’d offered to help. In a lot of ways, Tommy had Nick to thank for helping him bridge the gap between knowing who he was and acting on it.

He can see from Nick’s quirked eyebrow that he has questions about the whole situation they’ve landed themselves in and as the only person there who knows the full story from Tommy’s side he really wants to sidebar with him as soon as possible.

Nick, to his credit, heads straight for him, but he is distracted by Evan clapping his hands as soon as he sees Tommy entering the room.

“Alright everyone. Thanks for joining us for game night,” Evan shouted, even though everyone had fallen silent as soon as he clapped. “The first game for tonight is Never Have I Ever.”

There was a mix of groans and cheers from the group.Lucy looked too excited by the announcement and Tommy frowned at her.

“Everyone grab a beer and a shot glass and head into the living room.” Evan moved to the fridge to start distributing beers while the rest of the group picked up the snacks and left to get settled. Tommy waited until they were alone before going up to Evan.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” Tommy asked, trying to sound stern but mostly sounding bewildered.

Evan looked at him and sighed. “After the Abby bombshell, I realized we had never really talked about our past relationships and experiences and we both might have some misconceptions about where the other is coming from.”

“And you thinking playing Never Have I Ever with our friends is going help with that?”

“Sure. They already know our deep dark secrets and most embarrassing stories and will keep us accountable.” Evan shrugged, like the prospect of admitting to the shit he’d gotten up in the past wasn’t terrifying.

Evan handed Tommy a can of his favorite IPA and grabbed a cider for himself. Shutting the fridge he reached down to circle Tommy’s wrist and tug him into the living room.

Tommy took his usual seat on the couch and Evan settled on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The rest of the group was distributed around the room.

Evan started talking again. “If it’s been a few years since you played, here are the rules. Each person will give a statement and if you have done the thing, then you take a drink. If you haven’t then you don’t get to drink. For the first round, we’re doing shots, but after that you can choose a shot or a sip.”

Evan filled six shot glasses with tequila and passed them out. “I’ll start. Never have I ever broken up with someone I could actually see a future with.”

Evan’s eyes bored into him after that statement and Tommy had a decision to make. Was he going to be honest going into this game, or was he going to keep hiding things from everyone.

Fuck it. If Evan wanted to play, they would play. He took his shot, only wincing a little as the tequila went down. From the corner of his eye he noticed Nick and Hen also taking their shots. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one with a habit of blowing up his life.

Lucy chimed in next and from the wicked glance she threw at Even, he knew this one was targeted. “Never have I ever cheated on a partner.”

Once again, Hen took a shot. Evan and Eddie clinked their shot glasses together before throwing them back. Evan turned to glare at Lucy and gestured at her. She just laughed and said “I wasn’t the one cheating, so I don’t have to do shit.”

“Rude,” Evan said, pouting.

Tommy’s eyes darted between Evan and Lucy, his brow furrowed. Lucy laughed as she smacked Evan on the shoulder.

“You never told him about that night at the bar?” she teased.

Evan glanced down at his lap as he muttered “Not my finest moment.”

Nick, who mainly knew Tommy and tangentially knew Lucy from a few nights out at the clubs went next. “Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Lucy was the only one to drink and Evan laughed as she exclaimed “Really! You all are so boring.”

Hen’s entry was “Never have I ever made out with someone in this room,” and Evan, Lucy, Nick and Tommy had to drink. Tommy didn’t miss the way Evan’s eyes darted between him and Nick and then narrowed.

Eddie didn’t seem to understand the game, saying “Never have I ever knocked up my girlfriend,” before throwing back a shot.

Evan groaned. “Dude, you’re supposed to say things that other people have done.”

“But I wanted a shot,” Eddie whined back.

“Fine,” Evan rolled his eyes fondly.

And then it was Tommy’s turn. He’d been mulling over options as he watched his friends drink and joke, wondering how deep he wanted to go, what he really wanted to know about Evan’s past and what he wanted Evan to know about him.

He took a breath and then said “Never have I ever asked someone to move in with me.”

He watched as everyone but him took a shot, Eddie and Evan once again clinking their glasses together.

Evan grabbed the tequila bottle and refilled everyone’s glasses before he spoke up.

“Never have I ever lived with a romantic partner.” Everyone drank to that, and Evan seemed to relax a bit.

The game continued and Tommy lost track of who was asking what as he took his shots.

At one point Eddie grinned at Evan as he said “Never have I ever flirted with someone with the initials TK” and then made Evan take 3 shots.

Nick contributed “Never have I ever hooked up in a public bathroom,” and looked around in surprise when everyone else took a shot. “Eddie, I thought you’d be with me on this.”

Eddie shrugged even though he was blushing. “Shannon and I had a sneaking around phase,” he said.

“Y’all are nasty,” Nick said, throwing himself back in his seat.

When it was Tommy’s turn again he said, “Never have I ever been dumped.”

He sat back and watched as the rest of the room drank. Evan gave him a speculative look as he took his shot.

Then Hen chimed in with “Never have I ever stolen an LAFD vehicle to hook up,” and Evan protested “I didn’t steal the engine, I just borrowed it” before he took his shot.

Tommy took his shot too, and ignoring the looks from Eddie and Hen. “It wasn’t a 118 vehicle,” he clarified.

Lucy groaned and threw a waded up napkin at him. He met Evan’s eyes and quirked his eyebrow and they both started laughing. Which devolved into Eddie, Hen and Lucy throwing chips at the both of them as they ducked their heads.

All in all, it was fun and silly and nothing that Tommy deserved after dumping Evan.

It also left him wondering just how much he had missed or misread about their relationship. It was obvious that they hadn’t ever really talked about their experiences before, both of them trying so hard to be perfect for the other that they let all the buried trauma stay buried.

Until the trauma exploded into Tommy getting scared and pushing Evan away, telling himself it was for the best. Breaking his own heart before Evan could break it for him, like he always did.

He sat back and let the conversation wash over him as the game fizzled out and everyone started trying to one up each other with crazy sex stories. He was pleasantly buzzed and had some stories he could contribute but for now he wanted to soak in the atmosphere.

This was not at all how he envisioned this night going when he woke up alone in his bed. Evan was flushed and laughing, his friends were around him and he felt hope fluttering in his chest. No one had ever come back before.

[ghosteim]

#— "Adonis, the world famous rockstar"

Cw:Male!reader,Dom!Reader,MxM, mentions of penetration,crying, Husband cheated first, Cheater(?)!Reader x Oc, brief Sex scene,short,kinda rushed,badly translated Russian

Your eyes light up as your husband walks into your shared bedroom, still dressed in his work clothes. His shirt collar is a bit disheveled and his scent is unmistakable. You crawl to the edge of the bed and wrap your arms around his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, causing small beads of blood to trickle out.

"Where have you been all day?" you ask. He remains silent. Your smile fades into his neck as your nails dig deeper into his flesh. "Answer me," you demand. He lowers his head and you smile again. "Who was she? I've noticed you've been leaving more frequently, but I thought it was just for work."

You release him and he finally turns to face you, his short blue hair falling in front of his eyes and his peach-colored lips pressed into a thin line. "If you know, then why stay?" he asks.

You scoff, releasing him completely. "Because you have money," you reply, crawling into his lap and kissing him. "As long as you're this rich, you'll never leave me."

A few days later, you're staring at the wall decorated with your husband's trophies. The smoke from your cigarette wafts into the air as tears well up in your eyes. Memories flood your mind, and you tear your gaze away from the trophies.

"Calm down," you murmur to yourself. "You have all the money you could ever want. What more could you need?" Your smile wavers as you glance at a picture of you and your husband on your desktop. "Damn it," you mutter.

You stare into the drink you're nursing, your dull eyes flicking to every small noise. You're trying to figure out how you ended up here—in a male strip club, surrounded by the smell of alcohol and bright lights.

Your eyes roam from body to body until you spot them, their pink hair hugging their taunt frame as the serve drinks in a clearly uncomfortable and quote exposing outfit

How the hell did it come to this..here you are laying on the bed you and your husband share as the pretty stranger straddles your waist, his lips parted to let out the small pants he lets out as he looks down at you with lidded eyes, heat pooling in your abdomen as your cock stands straight up, leaking and ready, The stranger lets out a small chuckle as he reaches behind him to slowly stroke your cock, “so needy for someone you've just met”

he lets out a smile as he grinds his plump ass against your rock hard cock, letting out small whimpers as you grip the sheets letting out small grunts of your own, without thinking you sit up, making the male fall back onto the bed “your one to talk slut” you trace a finger on the bulge in the younger males pants, a small moan leaving his mouth as he bucks his hips a bit

Adonis moans as you pull him back down onto your cock, his nails digging into your back as you thrust into his tight hole, his hole squeezing around you like it's life depend on it. You grin as he tears up his moans in increasing as he tries to say something but he cokes on his own spit.

“mm~ закрывать! ‘m so fu-ucking close!” you grab his waist as you piston your cock into him, his eyelashes wet with unshead tears “mgh~ М-ЕщеМ- I need more” he lets out a whine as he wraps his legs around your waist pulling you in deeper. You let out a breathless chuckle as his mouth falls slack, his cock spurting out cum that lands on his chest.

"Look at how much you came baby"

"Замолчи"

Your husband walks in and drops his bag on the couch, walking Into the bedroom he's greeted with the sight of you cleaning up the bedroom.

“Hi darling, home from work?”

This might be a bit lazy...sorz

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 8, Unexpected - Pt. 3*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

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

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Bad jokes, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. (oral (m receiving), PIV), Bucky hating on himself :(

Word Count: 4k

Previously On...: Leading Jade to her new room turned a little bit awkward when she and Bucky started bonding over their shared Hydra experience. You had to put a stop to tit.

A/N: Pun most definitely intended. Here's the final part of Chapter 8! Yay-- more smut! And the answer to the long asked question of "Why has Steve been so fucking weird?" is revealed!

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

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

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

"Sorry to take you away from your tit-ilating conversation, Barnes," you giggled as he carried you inside and deposited you on your sofa. He draped his massive frame over you, peppering kisses along your jaw bone.

"Mm, someone's got jokes," he hummed as he began working open the buttons of your silk blouse. "Only one pair of tits I'm interested in, and they are right..." he undid the final button, exposing your lace bra to his hungry gaze, "here. Hello, ladies." He brought his mouth to the curve of your breasts, planting open-mouthed kisses on your heated skin. "I missed them."

You reached up to card your hands through his hair while he continued his loving attention. "Pretty sure you saw them both this morning, Buck," you laughed.

“But that was hours ago, sweetheart.” Bucky ran his tongue lazily down the valley between your breasts, taking his time to lap and suck at the flesh, his stubble tickling at your skin. "Remember the first time I saw these beauties. You had your tac-suit down around your waist, were wearing that purple bra. God, I love that bra. Couldn't get them outta my head for days after that."

"Ugh." You threw your head back against the couch pillow with a laugh. "That was right after you asked me if I slept with Steve in Latvia." You felt Bucky hesitate in his ministrations. The pause was brief, barely noticeable, but you were so attuned to each other by this point in your relationship it may as well have been a neon sign blazing at you. "Hey," you said, putting a hand on his cheek and turning him to face you, "what's up?" He avoided your gaze. "Buck," you said, more forcefully, "talk to me."

Bucky sighed and rested his head on the swell of your breasts. "'s nothing," he murmured. "Just lemme love on you like you deserve, okay?" He started running the finger of his metallic hand in circles around the clothed nipple of your right breast, the bud tightening and hardening beneath his touch.

"Stop trying to distract me, Barnes," you admonished, swatting gently at his hand. "Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

Bucky flicked his eyes up to yours, the sparkling blue reflecting back an emotion you'd never seen in them before: fear.

"Hey," you said, your voice turning serious as you sat up, taking his hands in yours as you positioned yourself to face him on the couch, "now you're freaking me out. Honesty, remember?"

Releasing one of your hands, Bucky ran his through his hair. He looked down at his feet. "I'm worried..." he mumbled, not meeting your gaze. "I'm worried if I tell you, you're gonna wanna leave me."

Your breath hitched with concern as you pulled your shoulders back, your mind wandering to all the possible worst-case scenarios of what he could possibly have to tell you that would make you want to leave him. Most of them involved Jade Carthage.

"It's Steve," Bucky said eventually, his voice so low you had to strain to hear him.

You released the breath you'd been holding. "Sweetheart," you said, climbing to your knees and pressing yourself against him, "why on Earth would you think anything having to do with Steve would make me want to leave you?"

Bucky turned to you, a look of complete devastation on his face. "Because he's in love with you, Pocket," he said, his voice so broken it hurt your heart. "He's been in love with you for years."

You couldn’t help it– you threw your head back and laughed. You weren't laughing at Bucky, or the pain he was obviously in, but the idea of Steve Rogers being in love with you, of all people, was absolutely hilarious.

"Steve is not in love with me, Buck. That's... that's ridiculous."

"'s not funny, doll," Bucky said, an adorable pout forming on his lips. "Right before I started going on missions, I told him-- I told him I thought I was fallin' for you. He told me he understood, because he'd fallen for you ages ago, but he was pretty sure he'd lost any chance he had with you after Berlin."

A memory hit you then, of the words Bucky had spoken to you that night at Gino's, when he was drunk on Asgardian liquor. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll," he'd said, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." And your argument in the elevator the night you'd finally gotten together: "Promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? ... I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."

You sat back on your heels. "Well, shit," you murmured, completely taken aback in shock.

"I won't get in the way of it," Bucky's voice was small, and when your eyes snapped to him, you saw his were full with unshed tears.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you said, crawling onto him to straddle his lap and cupping his face with your hands to ensure he was looking at you. "'Get in the way of it'? James Buchanan Barnes, do you honestly think I'm going to break up with you so I can go run off and be with Steve fucking Rogers?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed at you. "Why not? He's a God damned legend, for fucks’ sake! The kind of man you deserve. You don't think I know that you're too good for me? That it's just a matter of time before you realize I'm not worth it? I’m just an executioner with all his screws loose. You and Steve make more sense than you and I ever would."

You put a hand to your chest, his words causing your heart physical pain. He had made so much progress, but to know that he still held so much self-doubt as to think that he didn't deserve you? "Bucky," you began, tears coming to your eyes as you choked out the words, "I don't want Steve. I want you. I love you. You are everything to me."

"I don't deserve you, doll. I keep waiting for you to realize I'm no good for you and--"

You put your fingers to his lips, cutting him off before he could finish. "I decide what I deserve, Buck," you told him. "I decide what's good for me, and it breaks my fucking heart that you think you're not it, that you've been carrying this around inside all this time, on your own. You are the only man I have ever loved, the only man I ever want to love. How can I make you see that?"

Bucky's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you close, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You hugged him to you, rubbing your fingers along the back of his head.

"I do see it, sweetheart," he murmured into your skin, "in my heart, I know it. I just... I'm just so fucked up I can't always make my head believe it."

"Baby, have you talked to Dr. Raynor about this?" you asked. You knew Bucky's relationship with his court-appointed therapist was... rocky, at best, but she had done a lot of good for him in the time they'd been working together.

Bucky shook his head. "She, uh, she doesn't know about you," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Oh," you whispered. You were surprised to find that the admission hurt you. Even before becoming his girlfriend, you'd still been Bucky's best friend, and he'd never thought to mention you to his therapist?

"Hey, it's not like that," Bucky began, having read correctly into your silence. "You know everything I talk about with the doc goes in my court record, yeah? I-I couldn't stand the idea of other people reading it, reading about you, how I felt about you. Because, what if someone used it against you one day? Or came at you to hurt me? I’d never forgive myself. So I kept quiet about you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Buck." You brushed your lips to the top of his head. "That's not something you need to be sorry for, I promise, but, baby, I'm worried about you. It scares me that you still think so little of yourself that you don't think you deserve to be loved when you deserve everything good. Promise me you'll talk to Dr. Raynor about it, please? For me?"

Bucky raised his head from your neck and rested his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he conceded, letting out a breath. "I promise. I'll talk to Raynor."

You kissed his forehead. "Thank you." You moved down to kiss his eyes. "Thank you." His nose. "Thank you." You brought your lips to his, running your tongue gently across the seam of his lips until he parted them for you, deepening the kiss.

"'m sorry I ruined our afternoon, darlin'," Bucky murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with regret. "Shouldn’t have brought it up like that." His fingers traced soft patterns along the smooth skin of your exposed sides.

"Hey, nothing's ruined," you told him. "I'm just glad you finally said something. I hate the idea of you dealing with things alone, when you don't have to." You rubbed your nose against his before trying to lighten the mood a little. "So Captain America's really in love with me, huh?" you teased.

"Pocket," Bucky growled, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"What?" Your voice was the epitome of innocence. "It's very flattering. Going to do wonders for my ego, having two Avengers in love with me."

"I've created a monster," Bucky moaned with a laugh. "I should have never told you."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Too late now; cat's outta the bag. No offense to Cap, though-- I'm only in love with one Avenger, so his feelings are irrelevant."

Bucky gave you a teasing smirk. "That so?"

You nodded, a mischievous grin sweeping across your face. "That's right. Think Thor would ever give me a second look?"

"Oh, you've got jokes, huh?" Bucky's fingers moved from gently caressing the skin of your sides to a full on onslaught of tickling.

"Barnes," you cried through your laughter as you struggled to get away from him, "you knock that off this instant!" Bucky just held you closer to him, his fingers dancing along your skin until you were writhing in his grasp.

"You gonna take it back?" he asked, grinning as you struggled.

"Yes, yes! I take it back," you managed to get out. Bucky ceased his assault and brought his hands to rest on your hips while you caught your breath. "You do not play fair, Barnes," you chastised once you could get a full sentence out again.

Bucky's blue eyes twinkled with laughter, the sight of it such a contrast to his earlier dismay that it made your heart soar. You'd give your life in this very moment if it meant that look would never leave his eyes (though, you were pretty sure that, if you died, he’d never laugh again). "You fired the first shot, doll," he said, pressing a kiss to your nose. "Though by this point, shouldn't find it that surprising."

"I love you," you said, all traces of levity suddenly leaving your expression.

He cocked his head, eyes questioning as he took in your sudden change in demeanor. "What brought that on?"

You shrugged, your silk shirt falling back slightly off your shoulders. "Just want you to know it," you told him. "Really, really know it. Trying to be serious, for once in my fucking life." Bucky chuffed, but you went on: "I don't ever want you to doubt it, or wonder if it's real, if you deserve it. I love you. With everything I have. Everything I am." You bit your lip, and though you'd told him countless times now that you loved him, something about this particular declaration left you feeling self-conscious.

Bucky reached a hand up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. "Sometimes," he said, voice low and husky, "I think I dreamed you up, that you're just a figment of my imagination. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up in some Hydra base, and the last year and a half's been a dream my broken mind invented to keep me from losing my shit, because how could someone so perfect possibly be real?"

Your breath hitched as he traced his index and middle finger of his human hand along your jawline and down your neck, across your collarbone, sending you into a full-body shiver.

"I promise, it's real, Buck," you whispered. "Tell me: Does this..." you rolled your hips to press your heated core against the semi-hard length of him "feel like a dream to you?"

The rakish, smug smirk that Bucky unleashed on you then was seduction personified. "That always feels like a fucking dream, sweetheart," he drawled, pushing his own hips up against you and stealing a soft gasp from your lips. He began pressing soft kisses to your neck and chest.

"Weren't we supposed to spend this afternoon fucking?" you breathed. Bucky huffed a laugh and began nipping tiny marks into your neck.

"That was the implied, yet unspecified arrangement, yup."

"Then why are we still wearing so many fucking clothes?"

Instead of a response, you felt Bucky's hands reach up under your ass, lifting you up as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bed. Letting you down with the utmost gentleness, he slid your shirt all the way off your arms before he nestled himself beside you, lips never leaving your skin.

Your hands made their way under the fabric of his tight tee, fingers running along the lines of the taut muscles of his chest. Gently scratching your nails down his skin, you elicited a low moan from Bucky's lips.

"Fuck, doll," he murmured into your lips, "do that again." You did, only slightly harder this time around, and Bucky moaned even louder.

You reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it, needing him to sit up so you could pull it over his head. Emboldened now, you took his hands and placed them on the button of your waistband.

"Too many clothes, Barnes," you warned him. Bucky didn't need to be told again before he started unbuttoning your pants, helping you pull them down and off. He made to reach for your covered heat, but you gently pushed his hand away. "Not yet," you told him before bringing your lips to kiss him again.

While your tongues gently swept across one another, you reached down and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Once that was done, you broke the kiss and crawled down the bed, Bucky trying to chase your lips.

"Lie back," you ordered, eyes wicked. When he complied, you reached for his waistband, pulling his pants and boxer briefs down and off his muscled legs. His raging erection sprang free from the confines of its cloth prison. You pushed his legs apart as you positioned yourself between them on your knees.

"Well, isn't this a pretty sight?" you hummed, brushing your hair back from your face. Leaning down, you licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of his cock, letting your tongue twirl around the aching red tip that was already dripping with pre-cum.

"Fuck, Pocket," Bucky moaned. You felt his hands reach for your hair, but you pulled back.

"Nuh-huh, Sergeant," you admonished with a wagging finger. "No touching. You'll get your turn." Three things happened at once in conjunction with your words: first, you noticed Bucky's pupils dilate with lust; second, a blush began to spread up his neck; and third, and perhaps most revealing of all, his cock twitched beneath your hand.

"Well, well, well," you mused, realization suddenly dawning on you, "it seems like somebody has a Sergeant kink. Good to know."

Bucky chuffed and put his vibranium arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could watch you, and rested his flesh arm across his abdomen. Bless him; you knew he'd try to keep his hands to himself, but would ultimately end up failing. "I don't know what you're talking 'bout, sweets."

You just smiled at him before returning to the task at hand, you proceeding to devour his cock as though it were your last meal, bringing him deep into your throat and hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked before pulling back off.

"So fucking heavy, Sarge," you murmured as you rolled his balls in your hands. "Bet you're getting real close, huh?" You looked up to see Bucky's eyes screwed shut as he nodded, his human hand now fisting the sheet next to him as a dark red flush spread across his cheeks. "Hey," you said, tapping him on the thigh, "eyes on me, soldier."

When his beautiful blue orbs had returned to yours, you smiled at him, then proceeded to move from your position, crawling yourself up until you were straddling him. Moving the gusset of your panties to the side, you slowly eased yourself down on him, relishing in the stretch until you were fully seated, your clit rubbing against his public bone as you leaned forward.

"Jesus," Bucky groaned when you began moving yourself up and down on his length, riding him at a slow, steady pace. "You're so fucking perfect, doll. I love you. Love you so fucking much."

With a smile you leaned back, letting your spine arch as you moved. Without warning, you felt Bucky sit up to meet you. You knew he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

"Think you can throw these in my face and expect me to keep my hands off?" he asked with a grin, pulling the cups of your lace bra down to expose your breasts. He brought his mouth to your nipple, teasing and sucking at the supple flesh as his hands found your waist. He began fucking up into you, the sensation combined with his attention to your breasts building your high.

"Oh, God. Right there, Buck," you moaned when his cock hit the right spot inside of you. "Just like that; don't stop!" You moved your hands to his back, fingernails leaving long, red marks in his skin. 

"Fuck," he growled. He increased the pace and intensity of his thrusting, working himself in and out of you like a piston. "God, you feel so fucking good. So tight. I wanna stay inside you for the rest of my damned life."

"I'd let you," you gasped, your thoughts becoming hazy as the tension inside you continued to build. "Always want you inside me."

Bucky's metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. The sudden, cold sensation as he began rubbing tight circles across the sensitive bundle of nerves sent you over the edge, and soon you were coming undone. You could feel your inner walls clenching around Bucky's cock, squeezing and begging it for his own release.

"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight. I'm gonna--" With a guttural moan that was practically a howl, Bucky reached his own peak, sending rope after rope of cum into your waiting channel. You draped your body across him in your spent state, resting your head on his shoulder as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Was that real enough for you?" you asked him with a smirk as you worked to catch your breath. Bucky hummed, working both hands along the line of your spine.

"Mmm, I dunno, sweets. Felt like the best kinda dream to me." You nipped playfully at his jaw. "Thank you for being so good to me."

"My pleasure," you giggled, "truly."

"My girl and her jokes," he laughed, planting a kiss to the top of your head. "How 'bout I run us a bath, get you all cleaned up?"

You turned your head to look up at him, batting your lashes. "Bubbles, too?" you asked sweetly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine, bubbles, too." You tried to suppress your snort; though he would never admit it out loud, you knew Bucky secretly loved bubble baths, possibly more than you did. A simple indulgence of the comfort he'd so long been denied.

While he was in the bathroom, running the water, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Baby, you got a text message," you called.

"Can you check it for me, doll?" he called back. "Got bubbles on my hands."

You laughed to yourself as you crawled to the edge of the bed, picking his jeans up from the floor and searching the pockets for his phone. You stole a quick glance at the screen.

"It's Steve," you told him as you walked his phone back to him in the bathroom. You held it out to him, but he had his hand under the tap, checking the temperature of the water.

"What's he want?" Bucky asked. You didn't know; you hadn't wanted to invade his privacy by looking at his messages, and now his phone had locked itself. "Can you read it to me? Passcode's your birthday."

You held the phone to your chest, cheeks heating with affection. "Bucky Barnes," you said softly. "That..." You had trouble putting the emotions into words. First, that he trusted you with his passcode, and second, that he'd chosen your birthday.

He turned from the tub to look at you, shit-eating grin on his face. "What?"

"That is incredibly fucking sweet, thank you." You entered the numbers into the phone and checked the message from Steve.

"Oh," you pouted, the sweetness in your chest deflating somewhat. "Steve wants you to take point on Jade's training." You stuck out your tongue. "Ew."

Bucky laughed, running a wet hand through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably in all directions. "Tell him I'll think about it and let him know," he said. "I need to discuss it with my girl first."

You smiled as you thumbed the reply back to Steve. "Thank you, Buck."

"Of course, doll." He beckoned you over. "Now come here, time to get you all cleaned up."

"Aw, but Buck," you whined as you walked over, unclasping your bra and stepping out of your panties, "I thought you liked me dirty."

Bucky paused in his removal of his boxer briefs. "You keep that kind of talk up, I have half a mind to keep you dirty."

You tapped his chest as you stepped into the blissfully warm water of the sunken tub. "Promises, promises." He quickly followed you, and you soon settled, him with his back against the wall of the tub, and you against his chest. "57038," you said to him, once you both were submerged in bubbles.

"What now?" he asked in surprise.

"My phone," you told him. "The passcode's 57038. I want you to have it."

He leaned down to kiss the side of your neck. "Thank you, sweets, but you didn't have to tell me just because I told you mine." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Why does that number sound so familiar?"

You chuckled and turned to pull on the chain that held his dog tags around his neck. Holding it out in front of him, you pointed to the last five digits of his military service number. You watched him swallow thickly as he made the realization.

"You..." he paused to clear his throat, "you use my numbers for your passcode?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"Is that too much?" you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly shy.

"No! God, no!" Bucky wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your shoulder. "I honestly don't know how you're even real," he murmured into your skin. "Keep thinking I'll close my eyes and you'll disappear." Reaching around, you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I'm real," you promised him, leaning back into his chest, "I'm real, this is real. And I'm not going anywhere."

He nuzzled into you, as if he could burrow into your skin in order to be closer to you. "I know I said I'd get you all cleaned up but, fuck, doll, you keep saying stuff like that..."

You wiggled around in his arms until you were facing him, legs wrapped back around his waist and arms draped around his neck; your favorite place to be. "Tub sex?" you asked, voice full of hope and excitement.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed before coming back down to kiss you. "Tub sex," he agreed with a smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

𝙺𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒

✿ 𝓡𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪 ✿

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Pairing: Yakuza!Nanami Kento x Geisha!Reader

Genre: MafiaAU, GeishaAU

Word Count: 3124

Warnings: mentions of blood and killing. Its a mafia au what do you expect. No smut, fluff if you squint.

Summary: You've just started your life as a full fledged geiko and one evening with a man you meet might just change your life.

A/N: I wrote this as a seperate fic for a friend for her birthday and liked it so much I waned to make a Nanamin version so here y'all go! :)

Part One

You sat at the table, your elder sister diagonally opposite you as she laughed and entertained one of the most respected and well-known gokudo leaders in Kyushu. A sharp man who regularly travelled down to Kyoto to sit with her and drink tea that she didn’t even brew, only poured into a cup for him. If only you could be like that; gain a danna so young and attentive and not to mention, a treat for the eyes. 

The kimono you had been made to wear for tonight had special motifs on it. It had been gifted to the geisha house by a man – who if the hushed whispers circulating the hanamachi were to be trusted – more dangerous than the head of the gokudo himself. Not someone to be trifled with. Stories of his exploits – single-handedly taking down a small army sent by the National Police Agency; slitting the throats of young and foolish kobuns who sold the family secrets to make a quick buck; and being a life-risking loyal dog to his Aniki – had already been spread among your sisters like hot oden selling out on a cold winter evening. You had listened to all these and soaked in the knowledge. Knowledge that now came flashing up into your mind as you carefully poured out the hot tea, just as you had been taught and served it to your kimono gifter and his dark-haired friend. Your kimono, a pale blue silk, artfully decorated by the white camellia that flashed in the light of the lamps. 

You thought back wondering why you of all people may have been chosen to entertain this very esteemed guest. Sure, your dance was good, but it wasn’t that it stood out beside your sisters. You could play the shamisen relatively well, but not like the masters did. Why had you been chosen, fresh out of your training period having just had your mizuage… 

The only conclusion wracking your brain could lead you to was that perhaps it was because you, of all the maikos and geikos around you, were able to refrain from spreading the circulating rumours. Partake you did – but only so much as to listen…

Thankfully your sister had done most of the talking, leaving you to smile and pour the tea and ponder the meaning of what your Okasan had said earlier when she had come with the younger girl Hana to help you wear your make-up and jewellery. 

The cool wet brush that painted your skin white, helped calm your nerves and when you looked in the mirror, you barely recognised the beautiful woman staring back at you with her blood-red lips and darkened lashes. As she had been painting, Hana had looked like she wanted desperately to ask you something but a sharp glare from Okasan quieted her eagerness; she continued to help pick out appropriate jewellery for your new kimono. 

When she was happy with how you looked, Okasan made you stand and turn once so she could see all of you. An approving nod and then a sigh, “A white camellia, I see. Who knows what these men think…” 

***

The pressure you felt to be perfect was unbearably high, and you were glad to have your elder sister there to help ease you into the conversation. There had been times that you had gone to the tea house before, but it was only to watch from behind the screen and learn from your elder sister; one of the most sought-after geisha in Kyoto. You had admired her smooth movements and the grace with which she carried herself – entranced by her much like the men she was there to entertain. This time, however, it was you dancing and entrancing while she played the music. 

The men you had been called to spend this evening with had already been seated at a large square table. There were four of them. Geto-san of course whose eyes kept getting drawn back to your oneesan. It was always her company he valued more than that of any other geisha in the karyūka. To his right sat the aptly nicknamed right-hand man, Gojo-san. These two men you knew; were acquainted with even, but opposite to Geto and Gojo were two new men whom you were seeing for the first time. A tall man with a  large hooked nose and tired eyes that seemed to carry the weight of the world, faced Geto. And between them a man with soft blonde hair and warm brown eyes. 

As the night went on, you poured tea, giving way to pouring sake, and batted your lashes smiling with a practised ease. You couldn’t help but notice that the man beside you was drawn to you much in the way that Geto-san was drawn to your oneesan. He had been introduced to the two of you as Nanami Kento-san. And the taller, to your other side, Higuruma Hiromi-san. “Part of my organisation.” as Geto-san had put it. They were, no doubt, as close to him as Gojo-san was. 

You felt those brown eyes on you as you poured the warm sake. Specifically on the stripes of bare skin left unpainted on the nape of your neck. Upon tuning – to hand Nanami-san the cup – you confirmed. It hadn’t been your imagination. He had been looking. A keen gaze that now pierced your eyes. An odd feeling in your stomach, made you blush and look away. 

Geto-san’s voice suddenly pierced your reverie! “Kento-kun seems to have taken a liking to you my young geiko!” there was a smile in his voice that translated to his face too. 

You look at him confused. What did he mean? You had just met! You looked at the man, a soft smile on your face, and hoped he would give you an explanation but he simply looked away, now turning beet red. You felt your cheeks heat up as well and looked down at your lap, focusing on the white camellia on the pale blue of your kimono. 

Your oneesan laughed. “Don’t tease her Suguru-san! She’s still quite green!” You felt your face burn. What she said was true but you wished she wasn't telling him about it either way. 

“Do you know what the white camellia means?” asked a tipsy Higuruma-san from the other side of you. You shook your head. No. You didn’t… Even though it evidently was apparent to all others who saw it. 

“Yearning. It signifies yearning!” drawled Geto-san from the other side of the table chuckling. Seemed like the man had been poured quite a bit of sake already. Thankfully your sister chose this moment to intervene and promote your dancing to him which in turn had you getting up and away from the table while oneesan presented her shamisen and played and sang so you could dance. 

When the night came to a close you still hadn’t quite understood what everything had meant and yet the fatigue pulled you under, helping you sleep quickly and without time to think long upon the night’s events… 

“You have been requested for an evening out by Nanami-san!” Okasan squealed, barely hiding her happiness. Your jaw dropped open. It had been a few days since you had spent the evening entertaining the four men of the gokudo with your sister. The events of that day had stuck with you as you kept wondering what Geto-san had meant when he said “Kento-kun” had taken a liking to you. Okasan continued, “He has sent another kimono for you. It seems he has taken a liking to you!” 

There it was again. “A liking to me? Already? What does it mean, Okasan?” You inquired.

“It means your training has been going well.” and that was all the elder lady offered. 

You thought about it as your kimono was tied for you. This time, a soft sakura blossom pink all down to the feet where it deepend into a darker shade. The sleeves showed two rabbits bounding along playfully. 

“Oh look, it’s devotion and intelligence this time,” Okasan joked. “This man and his kimono choices…” 

You could not fathom why Nanmi Kento had such fondness toward you when you had not even met him before… Perhaps tonight, you could weasel the truth from him without it being too forward of you.

The tea house was bustling, you had been shown to a private room where Nanami-san waited. Although you were fresh out of your apprenticeship, he’d chosen you alone to accompany him for the evening, and you felt a nervousness upon entering. The Okiya rarely allowed geiko to entertain alone, such a luxury was reserved only for very respected customers, who of course, also had adequate coin. 

You were equipped with your shamisen, in case he wished for music, but if he asked you to dance you would have to ask one of the staff at the tea house to step in and play for you. However, Nanami-san did neither. He only asked you to drink tea with him. You made sure that his cup stayed full, as you were trained. Along with the tea, Nanami-san ordered all sorts of wagashi. He only really spoke to tell you, “Here, eat some more of this.” or “Try the dango. It’s delicious.” in his warm baritone. There still hadn’t been an opportune moment for your question however, and this kept you feeling nervous. 

As the night deepened, the tea turned to warm sake. You refrained from drinking too much as was custom, but the alcohol loosened your benefactor's tongue and he began to talk. 

“I hope that you are enjoying this evening, Fukuhina-san.” You still weren’t used to being called by your chosen geiko name. Taking part of your oneesans name – Fukuhana – your new name was supposed to give off the appearance of how you were essentially a younger version of your oneesan. 

“I am…” your voice trailed off  as you wondered about the question that kept surfacing in your mind. You bowed your head to look at your lap not wanting to show the hesitation that was no doubt splayed on your face at the moment. 

Nanami-san frowned, "If anything was not to your satisfaction you can tell me you know... You deserve the best. Only the best…” 

There it was again. The strange – almost devotion that he seemed to have for you, coming up stronger now. His empty cup beckoned you so you took a moment to think while you poured more of the warm sake out for him. As the clear liquid overtook the cup you considered how best you could broach the question.

“Please do not worry, Nanami-san… Th- there was nothing that troubled me.” His admission of only wanting the best for you had you thinking further. 

He hummed, "Troubled you no... I want you to enjoy yourself.... With me." He turned his head to properly look at you... "That kimono looks beautiful with you in it."

“I am told you sent it as well. I must thank you for your generosity and commend your choice, Nanami-san.” 

You gather your courage and try again. “Nanami-san, I- forgive my impudence – but I must ask, What did Geto-san mean when he said that the other day. And Higuruma-san… pointing out the white camellia. And these rabbits… Okasan said they mean something – devotion and intelligence…?” Now that you had started, the questions poured out of you with no restraint. Almost everything you wanted to ask rushed out, but you quickly managed to cull the last one. Why are you being so nice when we have only just met each other? 

Despite the dimness of the light in the room you could see how the man’s cheeks heated in front of you. He took a swig of his drink, emptying the cup – you filled it again, only to have it downed promptly. When you went to pour more he covered it with his free hand, then set it down and turned to look at you. 

“Fukuhina-chan – may I call you that?” he continued after your nod. “Fukuhina-chan, there is a tale that is whispered among those of the gokudo, a tale that has spread all over Japan. There belongs to Geto Suguru, a tiger. A vicious creature that when it has sunk its teeth into its prey does not let go.” Nanami-san lifts his kimono sleeve to show you the snarling tiger tattooed across his arm. Its eyes seem to glow in the fire light. His muscles rippling under his skin make the animal look almost alive – ready to pounce. 

“I am a fierce man. I will admit, I have killed many men – women too. I have more scars than that which I can count. Aniki regards me as his most trusted brother, right alongside Gojo and Hiromi.” you are taken aback at his confession but he continues, “But I am not a man without reason. What I do is thought out and done. What I say I think and say. So believe me when I tell you, I have not fallen for you on some boyish whim…” 

He takes a deep breath, “You do not remember I am sure, but, it was about a year ago, I had been in a terrible shootout with a Kyoto gang and was injured. It was the coming of winter then as it is now, the streets were almost empty save a few stray cats and drunken men who were stumbling home. As I lay by the side of the road, I was certain that if they weren’t chasing after me with their guns, the blood loss would surely take me before my exhaustion did. And then there was a light…”

As he spoke you realised there was a certain familiarity in his story. 

“I lay there, broken, bruised, a pool of my own blood forming around me. Whatever locals walked past, avoiding me like I could and would at any moment snap and take off their ankles. I was not ready to die – full of regrets.” He paused and took a sip of the cup only to remember it was empty as he had stopped you from refilling it. So he took the bottle from your frozen hands and poured himself a drink, and then, one for you, and continued. 

“You came to me, out of the dark, holding that shamisen, very much in the same way that you did today walking into this room. Unafraid of how I looked. You, in that pretty blue kimono, your hair tied up and your face free of this makeup.” He gingerly touched your cheek. “And you pushed your little handkerchief into my hand and said to me, ‘stay alive, I will send help!’”

The memories came rushing back to your mind. That chilly evening, onee-san’s show which went on till late. You who played the shamisen for her to dance to, returning to the okiya with the instrument in your hands, stumbling upon this sorry-looking figure. Rushing to the nearest doctor's house and crying up a storm for them to go help the man! Even promising to speak to Okasan for some payment money but the request had never come and you now understood why! The man – then – had been smaller, sure and beaten up so badly that you didn’t recognise that that man and the one sitting before you now were one and the same, but you realised that the very aura that enveloped him then and drew you to him did so with you here as well. A commanding, yet gentle presence. 

“The doctor and his helper arrived soon after that. They took me to his house, patched me up, and when I asked them how they knew, they told me of the young maiko who cried at the door in desperation, pleading for help and making promises she probably couldn’t keep.” 

You felt yourself blush. “You didn’t owe me anything Nanami-san…” you mumbled. 

“On the contrary Fukuhina-chan, I owe you my life. After that day, I worked harder than ever. At the time I wasn’t so high up in the ranks, but I worked and rose up among the gokudo to sit at the side of the most powerful yakuza leader in all of Japan – and make enough money to become your danna…” You gasped. It was one thing to be a respected patron but another altogether to become a geisha's danna! “That is, if you’ll have me…” 

You could only nod your head, not daring to speak because of the lump forming in your throat. Your danna! That would mean the debt you needed to pay to your Okiya would be taken care of faster. That would mean you could become independent like Fukuhana-neesan was. 

“I am glad you have said yes Fukuhina-chan as I want to lavish you with the opulence you so rightly deserve.” His hand brushed against your cheek again, the cold fingers, a stark contrast to how hot your face felt. 

“Nanami-san.. I don’t know what to even say…” 

“Well, you don’t have to say anything right now, just answer me this, when everyone was lowering their heads and quickening their gait, seeing me dying there, what made you stop? Why did you help me that night? I could have been a danger to you or you could have gotten in trouble with your Okiya…”

It is true, you had dreaded the doctor coming to ask for his payment, not really knowing what to say to you Okasan about why you had called the doctor for an unknown yakuza. In your desperation to see him saved you hadn’t thought that far but what drew you to save him? 

“It was the way in which you held yourself… Even though you were almost dead, your head was high. And you were looking to the stars, not the people around you. You seemed to be wishing you could have done more, and I didn’t want to let you lose that chance.” In the silence around you even this whisper was deafening…      

When Nanami Kento left the tea house that evening, stumbling back to the room he had booked at the inn, his mind was consumed with only one thought. How much he now wanted to kiss your lips. The ones that recognised who he was even before anyone else had. 

Geisha are performers first and foremost, to kiss you and hold you, he knew, he would be asking a lot. But he wanted to show you that to him, you were the only thing that mattered now. He would woo you, and if luck happened to be on his side once again, he would be  honoured to become more than just your danna. 

End of Part 1

End of work A/N: I do not claim to know everything about geisha or yakuza as institutions/people. My understanding is a base level one and there may be things which are not so accurate here. Please allow me some leeway when reading and note that I am not an authority on these subjects. This was written for fun with a little research.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Plus One, Forehead Sweat, Ghouli, Kitten, Rm9sbG93ZXJz, Familiar, Nothing Lasts Forever), Part VI

Part I (My Struggle I), Part II (Founder's Mutation), and Part III (Weremonster), Part IV (Home Again), Part V (Babylon), and Part VI (This.)

Had to cut down on my react posts because I didn't have the time, drive, or willpower to keep plowing through at the same rate.

OVERALL THOUGHTS

The usual complaints.

There are overly dramatic "DUUUUN" musical cues, scenes end too quickly, camera shots transition at odd times, and the cast can be too wooden or too emotionless in moments that desperately need something (Mitch Pileggi excepted. He nailed it.) David and Gillian trade off believability in their respective roles; and usually not in the same scene (unfortunately.) Scully is stuck with her 30-years-a-smoker voice; and Mulder magically finds every answer he could ever want from the Dark Web. (I don't think "the Dark Web" means what the writers think it means.)

However. The plots are tighter, the humor more effective, and the pacing (a tad) better constructed.

I wouldn't mind rewatching mid-S11 if it followed different characters in a different show. As it stands, nothing really hit the spot.

PLUS ONE

Mulder and Scully are but aren't but are together in S10 and S11. They also are in This but aren't in Plus One. What the script says they do versus what DD and GA portray them doing often clash.

Yeah, Mulder and Scully are already involved again in this episode. My theory: scoot-in-your-boot is a private in-joke they have. Backed up by: his twinkle and her quick "I'm scooting you out of here."

The siblings were like a Punch and Judy show, get it? (Chucky Poundstone? Punch? Ehhh? Also, Chuck like Chucky the doll. ...And also like the other Revival Chuck doll, Mr. Chuckleteeth.)

Plot problems:

A man who matched the profiles of recent, suicidal "sudden schizophrenia" victims was left, alone, in his cell while he screamed for help. That would not fly by 2015 standards. And if it did, there would be serious consequences or a serious attempt at a to cover-up (which the cops didn't attempt to do.)

Chucky Poundstone: Fight Club levels of overacting.

Mulder and Scully were constantly called hot not because the topic naturally bloomed in conversation but because it was relevant to the episode's theme.

Scully let Demon Judy get to her. Scully wouldn't have been bothered to be out of "child-bearing age" because Mulder might want kids with someone else (WHEN HAS MULDER EVER)-- she should've been bothered because she wasted their one shot at parenthood and "threw away" their son. Wrong track, wrong manipulation tactic. Like point 3, this was only brought up to serve the episode's theme, not because it was crafted to fit the characters.

A lot of Mulder and Scully's theories talked past each other or leaped from point to point without fully fleshing out the last one (i.e. Scully derailing their theories to insist that ghosts don't exist.)

Scully almost threw away the pills Judy gave her instead of, I don't know, testing them first.

Scully and Mulder didn't keep the lawyer under surveillance after he saw his double.

Scully didn't believe in the Devil anymore... despite the fact that she used to, and we aren't told when or why she changed her mind. Imperative character development the writers neglected.

Scully thought it was more plausible that a man would cut off his own head through shared psychosis than the possibility of a supernatural element at play.

Scully was butchered either way: she believes in a supernatural element but doesn't want to admit it to Mulder because Judy might be right about her; or, she believes everyone is in a state of delusion yet still gives weight to Judy's pokes about her age.

The "Can you hold me?" scene was pleasantly in-character for Scully, but wobbled and waffled for Mulder. It also bucked up against their "we're already together" vibe, and didn't fit with This (at all.)

"I don't have anyone to have one [a kid] with even if I could [have kids]." Script, don't insult my intelligence; Scully was literally in Mulder's arms when she said this ("What are we gonna do?"/"We'll think of something" kind of saves it. Rather, salvaged it.)

Mulder didn't see Scully's doppelganger even though he was facing the doorway and was on high alert. Scully didn't TELL HIM she saw her doppelganger earlier (which is stupid because she'd either be aware it's-- hello-- an evil entity or she could be considered a risk in the field.)

Mulder ran off WITHOUT SCULLY after seeing his double and after she admitted to seeing her own earlier.

Scully ATE RANDOM PILLS instead of, I don't know, analyzing them first. The plot needed to have Scully have the pills because she wouldn't have saved herself otherwise. And also: why did the placebo pills work??? We're never told anything about them other than they're leftovers from Judy's food, and that the nurses superstitiously take them, too. That's it. No followup.

Scully continued to drive after seeing "herself" in the backseat. She should have pulled over-- even if she believed the doppelganger was only an illusion-- because she'd become a road risk and was following the pattern of the other victims.

The siblings just got mad at each other and wrote each other's names in the hangman slots. Which saved Mulder and Scully while killing each other, conveniently.

The "Mom" and "Dad" hangman papers haven't aged a day, despite being written, supposedly, when Chuck and Judy were kids.

DD salvaged the ending by waiting in the doorway for Scully.

Plus One thrust me into a world where Mulder and Scully are jumping in and out of bed, from Unremarkable House to motel, from etc. to etc., without ever talking about their future-- more accurately, where the writing pretends Scully never pondered the obvious conclusion.

THE LOST ART OF FOREHEAD SWEAT

This episode worked... up to a point.

As a one-off, the comedy hit pretty consistently and Reggie was an enjoyable third wheel. (I admit: I ALMOST laughed out loud when Reggie shot Eddie Van Blundht in the head.) The writing was tight, the dialogue flowed smoothly, there were no out-of-place musical beats or lingering camera shots.

As a part of the overall canon?

Forehead Sweat solidifies, for me, what doesn't work about the "modernization" of the Revival. Dr. They kindly pronounces that Mulder and his way of life is no longer necessary in the current age... and that's the stickler. The current age. Fox Mulder didn't fit into the current-world 90s, either, because the mythology and Consortium and mystery behind the original show was a fabrication inspired by old politics-- the Cold War-- that was then mapped onto a very loose, very forgiving framework. If Carter and Co. had kept to that formula, had steered away from cookie-cuttering the 2015-2018 political climate into their show, then Fox Mulder and Dana Scully wouldn't seem so lost and out of place chasing X-Files in the forest in their 50s while aliens did or didn't plan to colonize the planet and Skinner might or might not be on their side. Because that would raise questions: why hasn't the Trump Administration shut them down-- he'd consider their unit useless. Why are Mulder and Scully now afraid the FBI will be suspicioned or "shut down" if it's always been corrupt, if even now they serve a counter-culture role to the establishment, instead of striking off on their own? More importantly, in an era steeped in finger-pointing and blame-shifting and distrust and disbelief, there's no way the cases that drift to the basement wouldn't be blown up on social media within hours-- especially when the 90s already had NICAP and MUFON and other groups who closely followed their niche interests. The logic of The X-Files quickly falls apart in a world that would afflict stricter and harsher consequences, 2015 and 1993 alike.

That aside, this was the best Revival episode, thus far, in terms of quality. I will give it that. (Note from the future: that will be outdone, I believe, by Kitten.)

Plot problems:

The comedy bits hit, but Mulder and Scully warp in and out of character to achieve them (particularly: the repeated one where Scully keeps leaving before Mulder finishes rambling. Ironically, it's out of place with Darin's other comedic episode Weremonster as well as 200+ other examples of her character. But if the execution had been tweaked, those scenes would have been satisfying to watch. )

Mulder was LOUD. That's not new; but he was LOUD in the wrong moments, at the wrong times-- raising his voice, yelling, punctuating statements with STATEMENTS rather than his usual smooth pantomime or one-off, quick-witted remark.

The Babyfication of Dialogue continues ("sugarboobs", "I'm Fox Freaking Mulder, you punks!", etc.)

I'll bet Reggie kept hiding from the baddies in Skinner's office, hence why he knew him. This isn't a criticism so much as a theory. Or maybe those two gossiped over the water cooler-- Skinner knows everything and everyone, after all.

The Trump Administration poses no threat compared to the global Consortium and Conspiracy Mulder and Scully faced in the 90s. It was considered a threat to 2016s America, which would explain the "I feel like the world's gone mad" quotes the two leads keep kicking around. But, to them? Who lost and almost died and tried to save as many lives as possible to the Syndicate? And in a mythology that had large, regular gatherings of conspiracists who believed in aliens and distrusted the government (as seen in The Red and the Black), it disrespects the intelligence of its viewers by injecting and magnifying struggles that Mulder and Scully would philosophically take on the chin.

GHOULI

Another bump up in quality. The sharp back-and-forth camera techniques are better utilized with this episode's destabilizing, reality-questioning moments. Mulder rambling about the pathos and history behind classic monsters is a classic Mulder moment, Scully snorting and slightly smirking as he does so is a classic Scully moment. Is this the origin of the "Bob" nickname on Tumblr? The girl's "Kids would get stoned on it, in the summer. ...Not me!" was hilarious. Scully's speech in the morgue was the most Scully moment I've seen thus far. Scully subtly admitting to hiding evidence from her parents in her mattress (like Jackson.) Skinner always gets updates about Mulder's activities through other government employees' complaints.

Demerits: shots and cutaways still, well, cutaway at odd moments. Instead of holding on a scene and easing the audience into the atmosphere, cutcutcutcut snaps them out of it. But that's par for the course in the Revival; and it's not tooooooo badly done in Ghouli. Hoebag Jackson Van de Kamp. Mulder didn't get a moment to grieve over his son.

Thoughts? It turned from gripping mystery to big, fat disappointment. Skinner was great, Scully's morgue scene was great, um, Clone!Mulder had a nice moment or two. Jackson stank. As a condensed, disparate experience? It's alright. I quite liked it. (But it still wasn't The X-Files to me, etc. etc.)

Plot problems:

Mulder initially thought Scully's experience was sleep paralysis when he quite literally experienced this before in Paper Hearts. And neither were off-put or shaken by the similarities. (The episode tries to patch this up with, "You've been receiving visions through seizures. I'm sure this is another form"; but that's after she pointed to an open x-file and identified that boat as the one in her "dream".)

Mulder quoted a quote similar but different to his own from the original show. Instead of, y'know, quoting his own quote.

Mulder and Scully's kid is just Free Willying it up everywhere. And for what?

If CC wanted to do away with William (and that's an if), his death and his last attempt at justice for himself and his adoptive parents would have been a mature, heartbreaking way to do it. But no, we got My Struggle IV instead.

Mulder is oddly hesitant to believe his son's alive-- he's usually the one who is borderline delusional about believing and having hope. Yes, the series is supposed to show Mulder on the "other side": depressed (maybe? jury's out), burnt-out, and afraid to believe. But it goes back and forth on that message so often that there is no concrete change in his character to hold onto.

SKINNER'S ON THE CSM'S LEASH AGAIN.

We're back on the "men in Conspiracy but actually aliens but ACTUALLY men in Conspiracy" schtick. Pick a lane, mytharc.

Jackson played dead but it backfired because his parents found him not the agents; then he had to escape so the agents know he's on the run anyway, so.... *Cue Tony Stark*: "Not a great plan." Jackson is an idiot.

Mulder puts together all the pieces of the case off-screen without us, the audience, being there to see him working the mystery out logically. A "tell don't show" approach that undercuts the brilliance of his leaps.

Jackson let his two gfs see a monster and stab each other.... Jackson is an idiot.

Jackson made up a monster legend website to prank both his girlfriends-- who don't know the other exists-- at once; and ended up causing them to stab each other in fright. Jackson's an IDIOT.

Jackson is an IDIOT and a bit of a psychopath. And a LOT of an IDIOT. And he only got his visions and powers recently (since My Struggle II or III, it would appear); so he had to be an idiot before unlocking his abilities-- like the Rush highschoolers. So. Great going, writers.

SARAH TURNED HIM IN BECAUSE HE WAS KISSING ANOTHER GIRL. I mean, get him, girl; but then don't come groveling back.

JACKSON DOES THE MULDER FOREHEAD TOUCH WITH ONE OF HIS TWO GIRLFRIENDS.

JACKSON GOES ON THE RUN INSTEAD OF ASKING FOR HELP FROM HIS POSSIBLE BIO MOM DESPITE HAVING VISIONS OF HER BECAUSE HE'S AN IDIOT.

Mulder. Never. Had. A. Moment. With. His. Son. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY.

Oh. Mulder and Scully accepted their son wanted to move on with his life, away from them. ...Nnnnnnnoooooooooo, Jackson's not safe and is now an orphan and a high school dropout. NOPE.

KITTEN

This is Blood and Sleepless and Wetwired 4.0. ...But it's not bad.

Mulder snooping around Skinner's kitchen... fine, I liked it. Sue me.

The cop... fine, sue me, I liked him.

Skinner's code name is Eagle... because he's bald. I don't care, sue me, that was hilarious.

Skinner had the best speech.

I admit: I really, really do like this episode. It's the only one that fits into canon, oddly. (Mulder and Scully aren't themselves, etc. etc., blah blah, what else is new.)

My overall thoughts: Um. What did it achieve? Kinda progressed their characters forward... but had to regress them, first. Mind control and chemtrails and falling teeth and Mulder and Scully possibly holding Skinner's career back and Mulder distrusting Skinner but trusting him again while Scully did trust Skinner and was proven right in the end.... And a reference to Mulder's juices. It was necessary for Season 11, character-wise-- a "let's repair the damage to Mulder's trust issues" (which had been resolved?? in This but then wasn't, I guess??)

Plot problems:

There goes S9 Kersh's character development: all that he came to believe in. Right down the drain. (Not that I care; but keep it consistent, series.)

Scully questioning what happened to "the old, reliable Skinner we always knew and loved" is RICH considering A. she and Mulder were questioning his loyalty not five episodes ago and B. Skinner constantly got his hands dirty to help them out (which they largely forget in the Revival, for plot reasons, unless forced into a corner.)

Mulder: "As much as I don't trust the guy right now--" EXCUSE ME. I don't care what My Struggle II or III implied, Mulder of all people, Mulder, has seen Skinner squeezed into tighter corners and still ended up trusting him.

Skinner's getting framed, again, on surveillance tape.

SCULLY giving Skinner the benefit of the doubt, NOT MULDER.

There's no way Skinner's surviving that wound without blood transfusions and serious medical attention. Nope.

Skinner... was behind the two agents... in a pit... but managed to not only climb out but outrun them... in the woods... with a side wound... and knock over a full-grown man... and punch him enough so that said man could get caught in his own trap. ...'Kay.

So. The teeth falling out was never explained. Except to suggest, I guess, that the gas slowly rots them out? Except the policeman and his wife also had teeth loss? Or was that as a comedic bit? Or/and a comedic bit? Who knows!

WAIT, I WAS WRONG. CHEMTRAILS. Really. CHEMTRAILS SPREADING POISON OVER THE TOWN. (Blood already did this but BETTER, writers.)

Mulder's "We're with you" is undercut by nearly 30 years of previous history.

Rm9sbG93ZXJz

This episode is, again, not too bad.

The characters, again again, don't feel like Mulder or Scully to me; but I could see Mulder and Scully doing the actions that the characters did. All in all, I can see why those who like the Revival would enjoy watching this.

Also, I still wish Clone!Mulder never had to pay the tip.

Plot problems:

The world with all this tech doesn't coincide nor coexist with The X-Files universe (and, yes, that including the Revival.)

The whole... not speaking thing. I know it was supposed to be artistic or to convey some layered meaning; but, narratively, it was off-putting. Perhaps if they'd both been knocked about in the field, and it was painful to talk? Mutual tonsil surgery? Anything??

Whipz. Get it? Scully whipz and naynays.

The robots having that much influence over lesser forms of tech (i.e. Mulder's cable, not a smart tv....)

Mulder would have absolutely spiraled if he'd experienced half of what this episode put him through. Scully would have spiraled. None of this would not have been easily brushed aside with a tip.

Mulder still calls sex phone operators; and the machines ratted him out to Scully. Either that, or it was a callback just so Mulder could tell the caller to "Shut up." He's grown and changed, guys~~~~~.

It doesn't make sense why the robots are trying to kill Mulder or Scully if they want a tip from them. OR, one could argue, the robots are threatening Scully's life so Mulder will pay the tip. Either way, the two could have been killed multiple times if they hadn't ducked or dodged. Seems counter-intuitive, and mostly just in service for a "surprise, we just want the tip" twist ending.

"We have to be better teachers." REALLY. That's the takeaway. Not the fact that they were almost KILLED due to the incompetence or oversight of whoever created these robots. REALLY.

FAMILIAR

So. Uh. Classic X-File. Held up pretty well. Classic Mulder eating crime scene evidence. The script was old-school tight.

In other words, this was Chimera 2.0. But not as great.

Plot problems:

The police immediately rule out the child's cause of death as a murder. And think it might be a coyote. Or a coy wolf. ...Uh huh.

"You're my homie": Babyfication back.

Scully doesn't believe in human combustion. ...Honestly, shakes out with her theory having been disproved in Trevor. (Although, I don't know if there was a spontaneous human combustion case in S9, feel free to correct me.)

Scully telling Mulder he's "wasting his time" for wanting to interview a little girl who was an eyewitness. ...WHAT.

The boy's mother is... not the best actress. Taking me back to the OG show at times.

What are those creepy teletubbies. Nightmare fuel.

The community... didn't know... there was a convicted sex offender... in their midst. ...Did no one care to look up, I don't know, A SEX OFFENDER REGISTRY??

WHY is Scully fighting back against his witchcraft thesis when she's witnessed a witch doctor plastic surgeon AND a bewitched doll??? Amongst other things????

Gotta admit: I chuckled when Mulder accidentally got the Chief to confess to an affair (his "I... did not see that coming.") However: that scene was wildly out of place amidst the tragedy of the salt-circle and the possible murder of the innocent-in-this-case pedophile.

The episode just skips from the police officer shooting the pedo straight to the officer's trial. ...What happened to that old curse put on the town, huh? Just... took a break for a couple weeks? Mulder and Scully stuck around, or flew out-and-in while Mr. Chuckleteeth took a power nap?

Officer Wentworth let Scully's suspicions slip to the child's father, at the child's funeral, and is kind of portrayed as the good guy here. He doesn't express remorse for not following protocol (especially to a broken-down father grieving the death of his child), only that he is "sickened" a man (the father he broke protocol for) gunned down another man without due process. ...'Kay.

So, all the responsible parties involved all die because the jealous wife was cursing the cheating woman and eventually her husband. ...But if that's the case, why did the Hellhound go after the CHILDREN first, not the two people it was summoned to punish?? Usually things go awry after a bit of murder and mayhem, not before.

NOTHING LASTS FOREVER

What a stinker of an episode. Just when the cinematography levels out, the plot absolutely rots.

I did like Mulder scaring off the two officers by pretending to be a religious supernatural investigator.

And the church scene was good. It was necessary for this series, for these characters. Glad it was done. (I say Scully whispered she's ready to let go of the past: a.k.a. move back in with him, let go of the files even, let go of her rigid expectations of herself. Hence Mulder's line: "I always wondered how it was going to end.")

Plot problems (well... some of them, lost interest):

I hated... everything about that opening sequence. Doctors eating pancreases, illegal organ harvest, "chemtrails" reference, NINJA WOMAN WHO CAN TOPPLE A GROWN MAN, NAAAAH, GET OUTTA HERE. THIS ISN'T BATWOMAN, BOOOOOO.

Mulder's defensive over his glasses. ...They both have needed glasses since the 90s. Is Scully ribbing him over a stronger prescription?? I don't think so.

Mulder only has progressive lenses because the plot needs a contrast to a cult sacrificing people for eternal life (Our Town and Sanguinarium and Roadrunners, anyone?)

The gore's just off the charts, huh?

Crazy, washed-up actress living off of her shut-ins' blood. Possibly their organs. To remain forever young. ...I unironically read a better fanfic of this, ngl.

There are so many, too many, egregiously many plot contrivances. Wow. Here's just one set: Ninja killer is seeking vengeance but just happens to attend church the same day Scully just happens to attend church the same day Mulder happens to follow Scully the same day the priest happens to put up the verse that just so happens to correspond with the verse on the evidence organ cooler which just so HAPPENS to be tied to a small illegal operation keeping a crazy washed-up actress alive and young while she subsists off of parts from her shut-ins she "rescued" from the street. Stunning.

Mulder never had a dog: confirmed. ...But he did have a dog in his childhood photos, soooooooooo. Guess someone else gave it to him, then. (Or there is no show bible. Or this is an awful, no good, no-hate-if-you-like-it-but-I-don't universe.)

WE'RE STILL ON THE MAGGIE COIN NECKLACE??? What other answer for it is there except it was the date Charlie walked out of her life???? Ugh, forget it. The writers wanted it to be a mystery box. Then Gillian walked away from the series and nothing was resolved, yolo.

Mulder always bears North, Scully says, no matter how hard the wind blows against him. ...Except it didn't-- numerous times in this series, numerous times in this season, in fact. The Revival is, in fact, built on top of him losing his way pre-My Struggle I. So. Strike 1000 for missteps in Writing 101, I suppose.

Big Boss fight with a woman attached to his back. ...Guys, this isn't The X-Files, this is Resident Evil.

Olivia looks ghostly pale one second, then almost normal the second the guy she's attached to is murdered. ...Guys. She's attached to a dead guy. That's gotta be sepsis by the time she's in the hospital, right? Also: if Olivia was in THIS deep in a cult, she would have been devastated, not dazed but delighted, that her sister had killed the guy she was attached to.

CONCLUSION

I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

If I feel in a ranty mood in future, I'll cover the last three Struggle episodes. But until then, my Revival journey has reached its end.

And what are my final thoughts? The same as they were going in. ;))

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hi Luna!

You wanted requests so i thought of something.

What about a blurb/fic of Cedric Diggory x fem!hufflepuffreader, in which fem is a very bubbly, happy sunshine character but the better they get to know each other, he finds her jealous side,which she trys to hide because she is always so nice. Maybe this surprises him but he finds it cute/hot. 👀

It’s very general but english isnt my first language so i don’t know.

Have a great day lovely 🫶🏻

-🍓🍰

Sweet As A Daisy Smells

You remember your first day at Hogwarts like it was yesterday, even if years have passed. The beautiful architecture, the food, the Witches and Wizards of your year, of course, nothing would beat the year below you and their entrance, seeing as Harry Potter had joined your school that year. However, one small thing might beat what the fourth years have, being placed in Cedric Diggory's house.

Yes, you were like every other star-struck 5th year and younger following Diggory. The only difference between you and them is you actually accidentally made friends with the male. It was purely an accident, not a perfectly strategic mastermind plot between you and your friends to 'plop' you in his path.

It was innocent, really; you had a notorious reputation for being one of the sweetest Witches and Hufflepuffs. Someone needs help with homework: you're on it. Someone needs a quick snack: you're in the kitchen helping the house elves. An animal is wounded and hurting: you're on your hands and knees in the dirt, healing the animal as best you can till Hagrid can assist you. You were overall a genuinely nice person even the Draco Malfoy ran out of insults to throw your way because you were so unfazed: just telling him gently, "I know we all have bad days and feel the need to belittle others, it's okay, I won't judge you for it."

Your masterful plan to 'plop' you in front of Diggory was simple and well executed; you took the initiative to help the quidditch team clean and organize their equipment one night. Your roommate, Elaine Mellonfellow, was the one who came up with the idea, as she was usually one of the three on the team that ended up with that job. She would simply suggest to her captain that you take her place for a handful of sessions so she could 'serve detention.' This was a convincing plan, especially considering Elaine's tendency to doze off during Professor Snape's lectures.

Taking the bait, hook, line, and sinker, Diggory happily agreed to an extra pair of hands to help keep the team's quidditch equipment in top shape. This is what led you to now. It went from a handful of crafted detentions by Elaine to her simply stopping showing up, and you always did. Some would say you should be mad at your friend's obvious ruse to get out of a daunting chore, but you saw it simply as a good friend making sure you got close to your crush and close you definitely got.

Weeks of small talk turned into life stories and learning in detail about one another. You learned about his father's work in the ministry, about how he knew the Weasely brothers through their fathers, how he worked hard to become Quidditch captain, and that his almost least favorite color was, in fact, yellow. However, his years in Hufflepuff definitely helped change that.

While you were learning about Diggory to the fullest extent, he quickly learned much about you. Your fierce loyalty was the only thing preventing you from being in any of the other houses. You never gave up on a task, consistently achieved the highest marks in your year, and helped everyone out as often as possible. Always putting others before yourself, especially Elaine, who he has caught multiple times not being in 'detention' and though he would like to reprimand his chaser for skipping out on duties. He couldn't bring himself out of fear you would stop coming to help every week. Course, this could be solved if he could buck up the courage to talk to you outside of the quidditch tents, but there is a reason why he isn't a Gryffindor. It was fair to say that you were the sweetest, warmest human he had ever met, and he was addicted to you like a bee to a daisy.

All of these stolen moments have led up to today, the day Cedric found out you were, in fact, not just the cutest human in the world but also a vicious opponent in the arena of love.

After dinner in the great hall, you and Elaine make your way to your normal departure point, where she would 'go to detention,' and you would take her place as the ever-faithful cleaner of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. "Elaine, you are becoming far too obvious that you are not in detention when I am out there with him. What if he thinks I am a weirdo stalker chick who told you not to do your duties?"

Elaine snorted before speaking, "Yeah, cause Mister Lovey Goo Goo Eyes is definitely going to give up on spending time with his precious Y/N." You roll your eyes in frustration, with a slight blush present when Elaine speaks up again.

"Don't believe me, Y/N. He talks about you during our entire rest period during morning and evening practices. You might as well already be his girlfriend. If I hear him preach about how your favorite flowers are daisies again, I will puke." Elaine made a fake puking motion before laughing again at you.

"You look like a maniac, dork." you begin to laugh at Elaine's theatrics. Shaking off your nerves from Elaine's words, you begin to wonder. 'Does Cedric really talk about me that much...What if this is all being read horribly wrong, the man has half of Hogwarts on his side 24/7'

"Hey, now get out of your head; I know that look and that lip bite. Come on you are practically my sister, and he is practically my brother with all the time we spend together as a team. I promise you you got this. Just woman up and ask him out already before someone else does." As Elaine spoke to you, she followed the silhouette of Cho Chang on her way toward the quidditch pitches.

Sighing and following along as well, you felt a slight pang in your heart. Everyone knew that Cho Chang was in love with Cedric—so much so that she even rejected Harry Potter. She was perfect, the best representation of smarts, beauty, and poise that you definitely weren't. You were out there every week helping clean in the dirt and mud, for Christ's sake. You would never compare to her, and that ate you alive. Cho had shown her face at a few of your cleaning nights with Cedric. At first, it didn't bother you; they were the same year, and she could have needed help with classwork. Then, the day Harry asked her out, she turned him down only to show up that night laughing and hanging on to Cedric, making it very, VERY clear to him how she didn't like Harry. You knew right then and there. Game On.

Straightening your back, you turn to Elaine, a smile scarily plastered on your face. "I am going in," you begin to walk towards the pitch when you hear from behind, "Maybe don't smile like that; it's a bit unnerving, love! I'll be in the room of requirements with the twins!" Waving by to Elaine, you finish your trek to the pitch to see none other than Cho Chang clinging to Cedric. The slight pang boils into a full-blown constriction.

To onlookers that night, the smile on your face went from mildly unnerving to straight terrifying. Like a Lioness hunting her pray for her young. To Cedric, he just saw his girl walking up to him. Pulling away from Cho, he ran up to you. "Hi, Y/N; I was beginning to worry you got 'detention' too." Using air quotes around detention, your attention moved from the shocked female to the lovely boy before you. "Oh, Cedric, I would never miss this. Who else would help you? Elaine seems to be getting in trouble often lately. Must be all that time with the twins." A warm blush overcame your face as you rubbed the back of your head gently.

"She sure does. Why don't we get started? I was thinking of a full revamp of the whole broom closet. For some reason, half the team thinks that just haphazardly throwing their equipment in there is the best thing to do." Cedric smiled down at you, eager to start his routine and banter with you. Nodding gently, you began to walk into the tent with Cedric when a small voice spoke out behind you. "So that's what you two do in there; clean. I could always help Cedric. Here, let me lend a hand, too." Cho's voice rang like a small bell. A small bell that made you want to grit your teeth and commit a crime. Cedric just shrugged and turned to you. "I guess the more, the merrier, right Y/N?" You gently nodded your head when the constricted feeling in your chest slowly turned into a whole ball of hate.

The cleaning started like any other day; a soft, small conversation began between you and Cedric. Then it happened...that voice. That smooth, high, annoying voice that made you see red. It was bad enough that she pretended that you guys weren't always cleaning when she was hanging around. Even more annoying was her almost consistent interjecting in the conversation. You could feel your shoulders tensing every time she talked, and it didn't go unnoticed by the two peers helping you clean, either. "Everything alright, Y/N?" You could hear the concern laced in Cedric's voice, pulling you from your thoughts. "Yes I am just fine, a little tired is all but I can keep going theres not much left to do tonight anyway." Cedric nodded softly, placing a hand gently on your mid back in a comforting manner.

Then that voice again: "Cedric, it is getting awfully late, and curfew will be hitting soon. You're a prefect; maybe you could escort me back to my dorm so I don't get into trouble?" You saw it right there—the threat, the classic back-down girly pop, he's mine, the 'I get what I want because I am Cho Chang.' Not Today. "Actually, Cho," a sizeable fake smile plastered across your face, "Cedric and I have a pass from Madam Hooch to be out here past curfew to finish cleaning. You, however, seem to not have one of those. Maybe it would be best if you went back to your dorm now. Alone. Since curfew is in the next thirty minutes." You tilted your head sweetly at the girl, your forced smile still present. To others, you looked like your usual sweet self, maybe even regular sweet, with a little bit of derangement. However, Cedric picked up on your tone. That wasn't your normal tone at all. Holding back his smile, he watched the scene unfold.

"Oh, is that right, Y/N? Well, I am sure that Cedric wouldn't mind walking me back and letting you continue. It's just a short walk to Ravenclaw Tower. I know you would 'Hate' to see someone get into trouble after 'helping' you." Cho looked at you with the same false sense of kindness. You step towards her when Cedric interjected. "Cho is right; it's late, and it won't take long for us to walk up to the tower." You look at Cedric, defeated, Cho smugly standing behind him. "I will be right back, Y/N. Then we can finish cleaning." After his words, he walked to the tent's opening and guided Cho out. You couldn't describe the feeling you were having, sadness, hate, fear like you were going to throw up from anxiety because how did you lose to Cho Chang after everything Elaine said about Cedric liking you. A deep, heavy sigh left you as tears pooled in your eyes, watching the two return to the castle.

You grabbed one of the brooms nearby, not even realizing it was Cedric's, and took to the skies. You should get the heat out of your system. Now, you wouldn't say that you were a Quidditch player by any means. You were simply just fast and graceful on a broom. If they had synchronized broom work like the muggles had synchronized swimming, you would 100% join. However, Quidditch is a rough, dangerous sport, and something about a giant ball coming at your head screamed no, not for me. However, nothing mattered tonight except swoops, dives, quick turns, and sorting through the goals. Anything to take your mind off him with Cho. Cho touching him, Cho kissing him, Cho anywhere near him. As your mind raced, you went faster and faster. Not even noticing Cedric had made his way back.

Cedric stood at the opening of the pitch, arms crossed, watching you sore. Why you hadn't tried out for Seeker was beyond him; your speed rivaled that of Harry Potter. However, knowing your soft, sweet personality, he understood why you wouldn't. However, something about watching you zoom around in a jealous rage was very enthralling. Not only are you the pollen the bee is attracted to, but you are also the bee's sting. Jealousy was a perfect look on you. Smiling softly, he waited for you to calm down and land.

As the adrenaline and tears faded, you figured enough time had passed between them leaving and him returning, probably in a happy new relationship. Landing softly, looking up at the sky, you sighed, then turned to the pitch opening. Freezing in your tracks, you saw Cedric Diggory standing there with a smug look and his arms crossed. "Oh uh hey Diggory um, what's up?" You tried looking everywhere but him. "Nothing much, Y/N," He peered his head at your left hand holding the broom, "is that my broom you decided to use so gracefully in the sky." A deep red blush consumed your face as you hid the broom behind your back, shaking your head. Great, not only did he see you flying, but he also is going to think you're a crazy stalker who doesn't know her place using his stuff. A small laugh left Cedric's mouth as he walked up to you. You kept your head down, hoping he would disappear or maybe you would wake up in your bed, and this was all a horrid dream.

Cedric stopped in front of you and placed his hand gently on your head. "I turned her down, you know." You froze, eyes wide, still looking at the ground. "She asked me while we were walking up to her dorm, but I had to tell her I had given my heart to someone else." You slowly looked up at Cedric, and a soft red glow was on your face. "Though I will say Y/N jealousy is a good look on you. Why haven't you joined my team?" A snort left you, and not believing his words, you rebuttled. "I don't want to get hurt, is all." Cedric smiled, pulling you into a gentle hug. "I would never let anything hurt you, not a Quaffle or Cho Chang." You buried your head in to his chest a small laugh escaping you hugging Cedric back. In your soft embrace, you both failed to notice a displeased Madam Hooch approaching the pitch. "LISTEN, YOU TWO, I GAVE YOU A PASS TO CLEAN, NOT SNOG. GO TO YOUR DORMS." You both pulled away quickly, looking at her before running off laughing hard.

You and Cedric made it to your dorm hand in hand. Sadly, he still had prefect duties for the night while you needed to go to bed for a potion exam tomorrow. Taking your conjoined hands, Cedric places a soft kiss on your knuckles. A rose blush consumes your face. "Get some rest, and I will pick you up in the morning. We can go eat breakfast tomorrow in the great hall." You smiled widely and nodded. "Sounds good, Cedric. I will see you then." As you began to pull away, Cedric yanked you back into him. Looking up, Cedric cupped your face gently and kissed your mouth. The peck only lasted a second before he let go. "I'm sorry I couldn't help myself. The bee is just too attracted to the Daisie's pollen." You snorted before standing on your tip toes and kissing him again. This time, neither of you pulled away. Your arms snaked gently around Cedrcis shoulders, hands getting lost in his soft hair. While Cedric held your waist gently in his hands. When you pulled away this time, you rested your heads together. "Maybe I should be jealous more often if this is my reward." Cedric laughed softly before hugging you one last time and sending you to sleep.

~~FIN~~

-------BONUS------

*peering around some barrels in the kitchens, watching you two have your sweet moment."

Elaine: You both owe me 20 galleons.

George: This is ghastly, but I can't believe he turned Cho down. She is like THE it, girl, right now. She even turned down Harry.

Fred: You are mad he turned Cho down. I am angry that I owe Angela a week of butter beers cause he rejected Cho and confessed to Y/N all on the same night. I swear that woman is a mind reader.

Elaine: Both of you are horrible...I love it. Alright, now to prank Filtch.

(Thank you all so much for reading. This is my first official story back into writing. I am sorry if it is choppy or odd. I am getting back into the rhythm of things. I hope this is good enough to showcase the beginning of my writing journey!)

[kinardsevan]

melbell's theory on "is it a swerve":

I have been saying for about two days that I would write out a whole through-line of my theory of what shenanigans might be happening in the writers room for 911. 

I should specify first that this theory goes based on the idea that what’s being served to us currently is an entire swerve, and that they’re following the formula they’ve done before (ala Madney, Tarlos, etc.). 

My theory ties into 807 as well. It has us not losing Tommy, but him actually being in the episode. Given that we know that it’s been said that recurring cast members will film in batches and not necessarily by week, that opens up the option for Lou to be in (at least) 807, if not more. 

I know some of what has come out in social media in the past few days references that there was a certain lineup for the way B/T was viewed through 8a, and how it would culminate in the discussion of moving in together, referencing lore to Tommy’s past, possibly his father, etc. 

My thing is that, at the end of the day as a creative, all I’m trying to do is follow the breadcrumbs we’ve been fed for the past 12 episodes of this show. Because of that, the points of note within those breadcrumbs are: 

7x09: “Tommy’s good people. He’s good for you.” 

7x10: “My dad and I don’t really talk…Having Gerrard was like having the father I already had.” 

8x05: “people are what make life worth living”; “my boyfriend”; “It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? having a crew like this behind you, even when things go wrong” "especially when things go wrong"

8x06: “Do you love him” (entire speech) 

Now obviously, coming out of season 7, this show knew they wanted Lou back, but they didn’t know what his schedule was going to look like or whether the character would pan out, how the general audience would continue to tune in, etc. However, they did lay down enough crumbs that they could pick up and continue to move forward with. They gave themselves the ability to tell a story with Tommy’s lore around his father, along with what they ultimately chose to do with Abby (which a lot of fans were talking about early on in the summer as it was). 

Now, we’ve learned things since I first formulated this theory. We know that there’s a discussion about Buck having a “pendulum” reaction to the breakup and how to deal with it. We know that he’s going to throw himself into other things to cope. We know that there’s mention of “cracks starting to show” in reference to how he deals with the breakup. we also have mention in one of the articles about the possibility of them working a scene (as in accident, fire, etc) and things being awkward. 

based on all of that prior information, (along with Josh’s speech in 806), when I saw the preview for 807, I was very quickly one of the people who was like “this is being done for angst. this is not the end of BuckTommy”. 

My theory actually ties into (if we loved each other once) could we love each other twice, my latest fic. We don’t have any close-up shots of the person on the crane in the episode. We have the PA (or whoever he is) telling Bobby “there was an incident during filming, he fell and passed out”. Within the confines of me feeling like what’s happening is all a swerve on us, that line might not be entirely complete.  I’ve theorized that the 217 is already on scene, and Tommy is the man hanging on the crane. 

Why, you ask? 

When is the last time we saw someone hanging from a crane? (Buck, lightning strike, if you’re playing the long game, kids). Why bring that back if it’s not intended to be paralleled in some way, the very way they have been doing with this couple from the jump? 

We also have the voiceover of who we (aka as me and the two people I’ve actually written this all out for) assume is Oliver/Buck yelling “no no no no no!” in a panicked tone. For me, when I follow that line of logic (through 806 forward), things feel really clear. 

Now I hadn’t considered the idea that they might actually kill Tommy off until today, but let’s go with the idea that they’re not. Everything that we’ve been given from 710 on starts fill in a really beautiful plot going into the midseason finale for these two. 

Tommy is hurt. If the lightning strike is mirrored as I assume it is, the scene in reference will happen right about the end of 807. 808 will likely be some kind of other story (on purpose). I don’t think at this rate, we’ll actually ever get a Tommy Begins, but the title of Sob Stories really feels compelling to me on how they could do a version of this. Or a version of Tommy seeing what Buck’s life would be like without him, or any other version you want to think up. 

You suddenly get all of these breadcrumbs lined up really nicely into these episode. 

-Tommy’s dad can be presented to us. This also presents an opportunity to explain why Tommy feels unworthy/scared/etc of moving forward with Buck. 

-“people make life worth living”; “especially when things go wrong”. This would be something going very wrong. this would present them with an opportunity to give the payoff that we’ve wanted to see Tommy receive since 710, being accepted into the family he has always felt outside of. 

-“do you love him”. I think part of the break-up storywise being important for Buck is that it requires him to really dignify how he feels about Tommy. Another thing that this theory does is put them in a positon to really face the issue of remembering that life is not permanent. They can very much so end up without one another. And yes, shit already sucks being apart because Tommy broke up with him. But this brings to light the idea that, not only could they just be broken up, but that one of them could die and not have had whatever time they have left (especially given their career of choice) with one another. I think if you really lean into the parallel of the coma dream for Buck, it gives Tommy prime opportunity to learn why he’s afraid. Whether this is done in the form of a coma dream like buck, or like TK’s was with his mom (that feels more accurate for me with Tommy, meeting his mom, etc). 

—I’ll also include the aside of Gerrard being around could also be an interesting addition to the story. 

I can even see this feeding into whatever issue Buck runs into with Eddie in the coming weeks, whether it’s him still being upset with Tommy over the break up and Eddie saying Buck doesn’t have the full story, or Eddie thinking that Buck is giving in too easily after seeing him hurt. (Or that could be none of all of this). 

As for the interviews that are concerning, I do have somewhat of an answer to that too. 

I feel like on some level, Lou had to know that the fangirlish one was with someone who is fully behind Buddie and knew about the crap he’d been through. That interview didn’t have clear cut answers quite yet, and that one has me with this answer: nothing of what he said would necessarily be a lie.

He’s working on SWAT right now. Actors always have opportunities in front of them. He may have things that could affect how 8b goes, regardless. I have questioned whether he went into that interview with the discussion with the powers that be basically being like “don’t lie. but you can have fun with it, too.” 

In terms of the others, I haven’t read every single article out there, but I know we hold a general lack of understanding about the fact that the “exit interviews” just feel weirdly un-exit like. I’ve read millions of them at this point due to Greys Anatomy. And as it’s been said, you never see people asked about coming back; in fact you usually get a lot of "what's next" instead. We don’t get a whole lot of clarity of what’s happening with Buck next, beyond “new hobbies” “family time” “dealing”. 

That all said… I don’t know. I know the theory has legs, even though it takes shots from the articles we’ve been given. I started out with a lot of hope weighing into this theory. Now I’m not as certain. But I am someone who holding out hope that some version of a swerve is happening and it was just written really fucking poorly (and at the worst possible time known to queer men and women).

You’re welcome to share with me your thoughts. I’m open to polite discourse. 

[matan4il]

911 ep 709 first watch reactions

The way this ep starts with giving us a clear shot focused on the front, solely on Buck sitting between the man he's dating and the man he's been married to for the past six years, and only on them. XD I'm here for it.

Oh, Bobby. :( Feeling unworthy of his medal, and remembering his dad, and how everything went wrong after he got it. </3

Aaaah. Man, IDK. The openly and explicitly homophobic and racist captain cartoon just feels like an easy target now. Prejudice doesn't seem like it mostly gets expressed that way anymore, and when we only teach people to reject that kind, we not only fail to teach them to recognize subtler forms, we may be misleading them to think those more nuanced ones don't count.

Love Athena trying to "save" Bobby by contacting Amir. I'm always a sucker for a couple where they both save each other.

I enjoyed the little play with "Mother Hen," and I know it's not specifically about Buddie, but it is damn funny that when she's told she's raising more kids, they're the ones the camera focuses on. lol Raising a kid together for 6 years, still a couple of morons in desperate need of parenting from their colleagues. Even when Bobby's "wordless goodbye" moment with Buck is letting him cook for the 118, Eddie's by his side and they're doing it together. I swear, 911 said, "Take note, this is what a marriage looks like" and then just kept hammering the point for 6 seasons now.

Okay, I am pretty sure that, while Bobby's acceptance of Buck's first relationship with a guy, is really lovely, "Because we haven't had to talk about it" is not an actual good criterion for discerning whether someone is good for their partner or not. People whose spouses are abusive don't talk about it, either. :/ I am NOT saying that's Buck and Tommy, because it obviously isn't, it just feels like a line thrown in there to be cutesy, but which isn't actually helpful to people, who might take it too seriously.

I AM GONNA LOL FOREVER. So, just like Buck's bi awakening was all about Eddie, now Eddie's messed up whatever he has with Kim is gonna involve Buck, too? Gotcha. Battlefield boyfriends being off-battlefield boyfriends once more.

So... Buck was going to see Tommy, in an ep where TPTB have already paid for Lou in the role, so might as well use him as much as possible, but instead a non-emergency run in with Eddie's current whatever-Kim-is makes Buck ditch Tommy, and run straight over to Eddie's to help him? Look, I'm obviously a One True Pairing kind of shipper, so Buddie are it for me, as much as I can enjoy and see the value of Buck and Tommy as a stepping stone, and nothing will make me stop shipping Buddie (especially not after the tsunami eps), but 911 is feeding me way too well with how it frames these scenes and stories, I don't think the show's trying to get me to stop.

Man, if anyone's ever had a doubt that Eddie is the world champion at denial, this kitchen scene will def cure that.

"I'm worried about you." "Yeah, I'm worried about me, too." And then Buck, the one person who can ALWAYS penetrate through Eddie's denial wall, no matter how thick it is.

Eh, IDK how much the part where they try to re-define Shannon as the love of Eddie's life works, or how much it just serves to show he's still in denial, just a different kind than before, when Buck got through to him that he can't go on like this with Kim. For one thing, in his little retelling of their dysfunctional r/s, Eddie doesn't mention that Shannon was leaving him a second time, even before she died. Literal denial and repression.

So I'm gonna choose to believe Hen and Karen will get Mara back, because I can't deal with that particular storyline otherwise.

Kim's reaction is too deranged for me. Who does something like that, even if we assume the kindest of intentions? And then Marisol and Christopher's timing... I didn't sign on to watch a soap opera, but I guess I'm getting one free of charge?

"Now you gotta save yourself." If that ain't a painful summary of what growing up means, IDK what is. the conversation with Bobby's dad in his sleep was a good, painful scene, built right, leading to him hopefully getting his closure through saving his wife from a fire, and leaving us with just the right amount of suspension for next week and the season finale, where we'll see if he can let go of his past mistakes without a doppelganger dressing up like his dead wife...

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[wannabanauthor]

BuckTommy Angst Idea:

What if the first time Buck hear's from Tommy is a text asking when they can exchange the stuff they kept at each other's homes?

Buck is probably baking/cooking in the 118 kitchen, and this is the first text he's received from Tommy since they broke up.

He'd probably be devastated, maybe holding back tears. He'd sit down and just silently staring at his phone, praying that his eyes are playing a trick on him.

He blinks his eyes and rubs them super hard, but the message remains the same.

Another text comes through:

Sorry that was insensitive of me. I'd understand if you wouldn't want to see me even to exchange stuff, so I'll just send yours via package, and you can do the same with my stuff.

Buck can barely read it because the tears start flooding. He lets out a chocked gasp and starts sobbing uncontrollably.

Eddie races up the stairs to his side and reads the texts and winces.

"Damn, I expected better than this from him," Eddie mumbles and takes Buck's phone.

He uses it to call Tommy, and Buck can barely focus on what Eddie is saying. He makes out a few curse words and the word "coward" and "dick" before he hangs up angrily.

"Just sit here for the rest of the shift. I need to have a talk with your boyfriend," Eddie says. Buck reaches out for his phone but Eddie keeps it out of reach.

"Yeah, no, you don't need this right now. Look, shift will be over in a couple hours. Just stay here, okay?"

Buck nods numbly and just stares at the floor.

Eddie almost falters when he sees how broken Buck is, but he's not about to let Tommy screw up the best relationship Buck has ever been in.

~

Eddie shows up at Harbor Station, thanks to some PTO Bobby let him use to help Buck out.

He finds Tommy at a desk doing paperwork and sits down in a chair across from him.

"Buck kissed me," Eddie says when Tommy refuses to acknowledge his presence.

Tommy pauses his writing, and Eddie smirks when he sees the pen in Tommy's hand snap in half.

"After you ended things with him, he was a mess and needed some comforting. One thing led to another, and-"

Eddie pauses when he sees how red and angry Tommy gets, and the glare directed his way looks deadly.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Tommy says and stands up.

Eddie shrugs. "Go ahead, just know that you're not the last guy Buck slept with. It's not really my thing, but it made him feel better."

Lucy manages to spot the chaos about to unfold and puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Everything alright here?"

Eddie gives her a big smile, which only makes Tommy ball up his fists.

"I'm just letting him know what he's missing out on now that he ended things with Buck. Chimney and Maddie are already setting up dates for him. By the time you come to your senses, he'll be with someone else who isn't scared of falling in love."

"You should leave," Lucy tells Eddie. "I'll handle him." She scowls at Tommy.

Eddie grins. "Thanks, in the meantime, I might give it another go with Buck. I mean, he really knows how to-" a clipboard sails past his head missing him by an inch. He cackles to himself as he walks away.

Lucy turns to Tommy" You know he's lying, right? But it serves you right. Buck can be an ass at times, and he's not perfect, but did he really deserve what you did to him?"

"I'm not talking about this with you."

"Fine, do whatever you want. Remember, I know that Buckley is an excellent kisser, and he's not going to be single for long," she said with a bit of a hum."

"I'll talk to him," Tommy says through gritted teeth and sits down. He places his head in his hands and tries to calm himself down.

Fuck, this whole thing was worse than he expected.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

OKAY SINCE LITERALLY ONE (☝️) PERSON WHO IS NOT ALEX ASKED! Here are some more Texas!Buddie Thoughts:

When Eddie first joins the 126 (years before Buck arrives in SA) Paul looks at him, turns to TK and says, “Egg.” TK looks confused for a second, then gets it and asks, “Really? Your team or mine?” and Paul really isn’t sure, but DOES know there is a certain Queer Air about Eddie Diaz

I have decided that this is all happening post season seven

I have also decided Buck’s daughter’s name is Alicia, pronounced the Spanish way (Ah-Lee-See-Ah) because her mother is an old flame from Peru

Sometime between seasons 7 and 8, a social worker calls Buck and informs him that he has a biological six year old daughter and he has to choose between accepting his responsibility as her legal guardian or waiving all parental rights. He says “Of course. Yes, I’ll do that” and the social worker says, “Yes to which one?” bc they need a clear confirmation either way but Buck doesn’t realize because it’s not even a question, he has a DAUGHTER of course he’ll take her

Buck absolutely falls in love with this little girl from the get go. He’s wrapped around her pretty little finger like a blue ribbon babeyyyy!! He would move heaven and earth for this child! Go to hell and back!

He, however, isn’t the only one. Because after she’s living with him for about six weeks, Buck gets served with papers. Alicia’s grandparents are suing for custody.

Buck can’t bring himself to risk losing this fight. So he moves to San Antonio (where his old flame and her parents migrated to from Peru right before Alicia was born) so Alicia can see her grandparents as often as they want and Buck can still be her legal guardian

When Buck starts at the 126 (yes it’s still the 126 even though it’s set in San Antonio now) it’s sort of the inverse of Under Pressure—the whole house is all “Yeah yeah, Eddie ‘Pretty Boy’ Diaz, we all know you’ve got the calendar in the bag” and because he’s Eddie he’s like “Aw don’t say that, Mateo, at this point it could be anyone’s game!” All humble and shit but then TK spots Buck The New Guy and says “Idk I think Cali over here might give you a run for your money” and Eddie is just like. 🙃 McFuckingScuse Me?

Of course Eddie forgets any and all jealousy/insecurity the SECOND he finds out Buck has a kid

The first time Alicia meets Eddie she is incredibly shy about it, until Eddie hears Buck call Alicia some cute shit like “mi amorcito” (internally Eddie fucking MELTS )and is like “Oh you speak Spanish?” And Alicia’s eyes go bright and she immediately opens up and starts talking Eddie’s ear off in Spanish and loves him on the spot

This is post season seven so Buck knows he’s bi and knows there’s ✨something✨ between him and Eddie, but based on everything he’s learned from the rest of the 126, no one really knows much about his dating life or preferences. A few failed flings with girls, but that’s all he really knows.

The first time Chris and Alicia meet, Alicia assumes Chris knows Spanish because his dad does. She tries talking to him and he’s like ????? She then calls him a No Sabo kid and pledges to teach him better

Alicia loves Bluey. Chris complains when she comes over and puts it on, says he’s too old for little kids shows, but doesn’t make any effort to change it.

There comes a point in Buck and Eddie’s relationship that it’s clear they… well—their kids play together. Buck packs their lunches (since his captain at the 118 turned him into a pretty damned good chef). Eddie walks them to the bus and gives both of them hugs and kisses. Buck and Alicia spend more nights at the Diaz residence on the pull out couch than in their actual apartment. It’s all disgustingly domestic.

It’s not like Buck and Eddie are dating. But they’re also Not Not Dating.

Of course, neither of them are the ones to realize it. Marjan is. She says something along the lines of, “Well, yeah, now that Buck and Diaz are together.” And both of them proceed to freak out like “WOAH WOAH WOAH NOW THAT WE ARE WHAT NOW”

And Marjan is SO confused because, “What? Are you two seriously going to try and pull one over on us? You’re attached at the hip. Even your kids act like siblings.” And then she watches their faces change and realizes, “oh my gosh, you really have no idea do you?”

The rest of the 126 make a BEELINE for the exit when their shift is up, leaving Buck and Eddie alone to discuss.

So they go out, maybe get dinner, go two-stepping because it’s Texas and it’s A Thing. BuckFigure out What They Are. Maybe not all of the questions are answered by the end of it, but they definitely had a great time with one another! Eddie is an absolute gentleman and walks Buck back to his place.

Where Tommy is waiting for him in the front lobby. Because i can do whatever I want ❤️