#im just trying to brace for impact at this point

[ur-promethean]

if your read on the weapon is that she’s the chief’s new girlfriend then im taking you back to high school level english class so you can revisit your critical thinking skills

[machveil]

hey, brief apology, I sent an ask about a monster!Konig blurb that got a dirty and then realised you dont write that kind of thing so im rewording it

monster!Konig being initially very shy and not liking when m!reader touches his tentacles, but he grows to appreciate the touch over time as he starts getting used to m!reader, to the point of holding his hand with a tentacle gently

oh!! hi anon! I saw that ask - don’t worry, I do write for nsfw and nsfw adjacent(?) content. I just haven’t written anything for it yet haha, but no sweat! I just don’t write for these, your other ask is totally good<3

it’s known around base that Monster!König has an… unusual physique. he kept it hidden for as long as he could, but it was bound to be found out when you’re constantly surrounded by soldiers and snoopy people - stupid rookies that like touching things that aren’t theirs. that’s how König’s tentacles came to light, one stupid rookie dared to snag the behemoth’s mask

Monster!König, while a feared and respected Colonel, held some insecurities around his tentacles. who wouldn’t be be terrified of a 6’10”/~208cm man, let alone a man with writhing, eldritch tentacles? he’s either scared off fellow soldiers or had others try to mock him - the latter not ending in their favor

but when you come up to him? wide eyed and awed? Monster!König is weary, a man like yourself should know better than to get close to him… or if this is a ploy to make a fool out of him? you’d be a brave example to anyone else trying to play with him, “You better run back to your friends, kleiner Mann.”, voice low as he walks past you

but does that deter you? of course not, a brave little thing. your efforts start small - an attempt to break past Monster!König’s walls. knee bumping against his when you sit down in the mess hall, fleeting touches when your fingertips graze his. his gaze is always cast down towards you when it happens, a silent look asking what you’re doing

it’s slow, almost painfully slow trying to befriend him, let alone touch him. but the voice in the back of your head eggs you on, “He’ll open up. He’ll trust you eventually.”. the little game you started changes; those brief touches start to hold more meaning. yes, you want to feel his tentacles against your hand… but you also want him. for him to trust you enough that he seeks out your touch, is okay with it

so when Monster!König pats your back after a day of training, casts his gaze down on you again, it sparks hope. “Nice work, kleiner Mann.”, voice letting go of any malice, replaced with… you can’t say, but it’s friendly. when he pulls his hand away, how long had it been there? a warmth spreads in your chest

it’s a couple days before anything significant happens, but it was something that had your heart racing and palms a little clammy. it had been raining out, a storm sweeping through before the sky was clear and sunny again. soldiers shouldn’t be deterred by a little water, so training was held outside - maybe it was just your shoes against the wet grass, maybe it was kismet?

running laps with the group after hitting the gym for a few hours last night had left you with wobbly legs, trailing behind the others on the field. eyes half lidded, nodding off a little, it’s only when your heel slips and you’re falling backwards do you fully wake up. already bracing for the impact of the ground, you’re caught off guard - and quite literally - when you feel an arm under back, a hand on the nape of your neck

“Careful, Kleine.”, accent a little thick as he holds you, icy blue eyes looking down at you. you’d meet his gaze if it weren’t for the angle - you could see up his hood from here. a mess of tentacles wrapped securely around the Austrian’s neck, catching little reflections of light. you blink and suddenly you’re standing upright, his hand still on the back of your neck. a gentle squeeze, barely any pressure, then his hand is pulled back, “Try not to fall again, ja?”

after that? it only amped up - suddenly you were on the receiving end of featherlight touches. walking side by side, the heat in your cheeks is only fanned when König’s rough hand eases against yours. for such a broad, brutish man, König’s touch is delicate, careful. turning a corner, his grip tightens ever so slightly, stopping in his tracks

as you look up at him, gaze meeting his, your eyebrows knit slightly, “König? What—“. words dying on your tongue as he kneels down, he looks up at you, gaze smitten. and only when he squeezes your hand do you feel a new sensation around your bicep - poking out from under his mask, a tentacle had wrapped around the muscles of your arm, “You’re a patient man, ist es das, was Sie sehen möchten?“

it’s suddenly hard to breathe as it moves down your forearm, replacing his hand with the appendage, “Ah— König.”, you choke out

[airaibunny]

dom!sana x sub!fem!reader - “in the closet” (warnings: smut, fingering, praise, semi-public[maybe? idk?], finger sucking[idk if this has an actual name], breasts/nipple play)

a/n: this took entirely too long to finish, i’m so sorry everyone. i hope the wait is worth it! if its not, again im really sorry. i have no clue how sets work, im pretty sure they have a director. if they dont then you know the drill: pretend with me

word count: 1.4k

you’re very used to long photoshoots. you’ve never really had a problem with posing and focusing, but you can’t seem to do that today. it’s not your fault though, how can you possibly concentrate when your girlfriend looks so damn hot?

you like to think that the stylists don’t have a favorite, but it’s undeniable that her outfit outdid everyone else’s. you can’t stop looking at her, and you’re not being sneaky about it either. it’s very blatant to everyone on set. she glances back at you sometimes and you can undoubtably feel the slick running onto your underwear.

“y/n, over here please.”

the sudden remark coming from the director jolts you out of your thoughts. this is the third time you’ve been redirected. you really are trying to pay attention, but you just can’t. you can hear sana giggling at you and you turn to look at her without thinking about it. you immediately remember that you’ve just been told to face forward however, so you look away.

“okay, i think we need a break. let’s take 30 and then try this again.”

the director lets out a sigh and you mouth ‘sorry,’ feeling that this was entirely because of you. you notice jihyo walking up to you and brace for impact as you’re sure she’s coming to reprimand you.

“what is going on?” she crosses her arms in front of you and awaits your explanation. “i don’t know, i’m sorry. i’ll fix it when we start again, i promise.” she remains silent for a few seconds. “you better. we’ll talk when we get home.” with that, she walks away. it didn’t go as bad as you thought, but now you have to get a world famous “jihyo talk” when you get back to the dorms.

you sulk for a second, but quickly forget when you see sana drinking water out of the corner of your eye. the way she moves her head back and exposes her neck reminds you of the tension between your legs. you watch as a drop of water drips down her chin and she wipes it away. you rush over to her side and grab her arm. “do you want something?” she playfully remarks and shoots you a fake oblivious look.

you roll your eyes and begin pulling her away from everyone else. you truly couldn’t care less that there’s people looking at you, you need her to touch you. you frantically run around for a few minutes trying to find any sort of open room and finally find a closet. it’s not huge, but you both fit in it comfortably and it’s clean.

you pull sana inside and reach behind her to close the door. you quickly realize there’s no lock and look at her for help. “is something wrong?” you nod and point to the door handle. “oh, that has an easy fix.” she smirks at you and grabs your waist. she switches places with you so that you’re the one closest to the door now. in one fluid motion, she flips you around and presses you against it. “see? problem solved.”

you can feel her breath on the back of your neck as she speaks and suddenly feel uncomfortable in your clothes. you tug at your skirt, but she grabs your hand. “are you sure you want to take it off? if so, we’re going to have to make your outfit looks the exact same when we put it back on.” blinded by your lust, you decide to ignore sana’s warning and continue pulling your skirt down.

you hear her snickering at your back. “you’re so needy, is this really necessary?” you finish taking off your skirt and sana grabs it from you, placing it on a shelf behind her. she slightly pulls at your underwear and instructs you to take it off as well. you swiftly comply with her request and she places it where she previously put your skirt.

sana takes advantage of the fact that your shirt has no straps and pulls it down to reveal your breasts. she brings one of her hands to your back, holding you in place against the door. she uses her other hand to play with your breasts. she draws circles around your nipples and tugs at them, making you squirm in your spot. “calm down, i’ve barely touched you, angel.” you whine at her in response.

her hand travels down your chest, caressing your stomach and abdomen before stopping right before your core. “sana…” you put one of your hands on top of hers. “do you want me to keep going?” she takes your hand in hers and kisses it before placing it back on the door. “yes, please…” she kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin. “thank you for saying please, you’re such a good girl.”

she finally brings her hand to you core and you jump a bit. you can tell she’s holding back as she places soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “fuck, i wish i could leave marks.” she’s still teasing you and playing with your folds, but not giving you what you really want. you let out small moans and whimpers, mindful of the people outside.

“sana, please.” she keeps tormenting you even though she knows exactly what that means. “please what? i can’t read minds.” you can feel a wicked smile appearing on her lips with the remark. “i want…” she rubs circles on your back, encouraging you to go on. “mhm?”

“your fingers, inside. please…” she moves the hand on your back to your waist and pulls your ass against her. “okay, angel, only because you asked so nicely.”

she parts your folds with her fingers before slowly inserting two digits into you. “how does that feel?” you don’t bother responding verbally, you just grind back against her. she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you get used to the initial sensation. “you’re soaked, have you been like this the entire day?”

“yeah.” she begins speeding up, making you let out muffled moans and whines. without thinking, you grab the hand on your waist and bring it up to your breasts. she chuckles behind you. “do you want me to play with your tits?” you mumble out a ‘yes’ as well as you can given your current state. luckily for you, she doesn’t make you repeat yourself.

she continues adding speed to the fingers inside you while taking your nipple in between two of her fingers. you’re worried about how loud you’re being, but your brain is too foggy to actually stop yourself. “hm, feels good…”

you can feel a knot growing in your stomach as she curls her fingers inside you. she immediately realizes how close you are and speeds up even more while still messing with your tits. you bring one of your hands down and hold onto her forearm.

“go ahead, i’ve got you.” with sana’s permission, your muscles contract as you finally reach your high. you shut your eyes close as she keeps going, letting you completely finish. the hand previously on your breasts has moved to your waist, holding you up.

once she’s sure you’re entirely done, she turns you around and presses your back against the door. she brings her fingers up to your mouth and brushes them against your lips. “open.” she commands, bringing her other hand to your jawline. you do as you’re told and she pushes her fingers inside your mouth, letting you lick them dry.

once she’s satisfied with your work, she grabs your clothes from the shelf behind her and helps you put them on. although you struggle a bit, you manage to get your outfit to look just as it did before, or at least you think you do.

“how do my hair and makeup look?” you ask, bringing your face closer to her. she strokes your hair and drags her thumb across the bottom of your lip. she then cups your face, pulling you in for a kiss. “you look great, what about me?” she smiles at you, already aware of what you think.

“you look really fucking hot.” you give her another kiss and she giggles. “oh yeah?” you nod your head, still planting soft kisses on her lips.

“okay, we have to get out now.” you pout, but you know she’s right. “don’t be sad, i’ll make it up to you later, at home.” she reaches for the handle to open the door, but adds to her statement before doing so. “that is, after jihyo yells at you.”

[guav]

ᥫ᭡ for sanzu haruchiyo,

⠀⠀⠀⠀DISCIPLINE

what is sanzu to do when his waging rampage is met with a boot to the face? answer's simple: wag his tail.

⠀⠀⚠︎⠀⠀bordering on dark! graphic descriptions of blood, violence, suggestive themes, like one sex scene if u squint, y'know how it goes. ooc sanzu because idfk either. like 4.8k words.

“i’m not your superior, haruchiyo,” tensions rise with a simple roll of the tongue. the waters have been tested, they seem to be riddled with piranhas. “yet, i can’t say im loving this death stare of yours.”

if you’re not careful, he might just eat you alive. sanzu is not above murder, if your forerunner is anything to go by. his stare is cold, calculating, mapping out your body of weak points. 

“manjiro tasked me with you, but i’m not a babysitter.” that got half his attention, the mention of mikey piquing his interest. “my job is to make sure you’re useful to him.” 

like food thrown to a starving animal, his full focus now preys on you.

sanzu has beautiful eyes, you notice. they widen at your words in utter disbelief. perhaps he’s a sleeper agent, ‘sano manjiro’ being the only whisper necessary to kick him into overdrive.

sanzu is an exquisite asset, isn’t he?

ever the shrewd character, you’re quick to notice his change of nature isn’t desperate. sanzu haruchiyo is not some helpless schoolgirl chasing after manjiro. there’s layers, a bond that transcends time itself. 

he is loyal, just not valuable enough; and that breeds desperation.

“useful—” sanzu clears his throat, “useful how?”

he can’t remember the next minute very well.

the first two seconds he wastes time blinking, the fourth is spent in a panic—you’re no longer within his field of vision. mark the fifteenth second, you reappear. one moment you were staring him down, sitting on piled up boxes, the next you’re beside him.

at the twentieth, his instincts go into overdrive. there’s no escaping the inevitable now.

sanzu is agile. sufficiently lithe to brace for impact before you slam him into the wall. his ears ring, and there’s warm liquid seeping out of his ear. he’s agile enough to survive a hit from you, perhaps that’s better than most. 

the alleway starts to spin, and the remainder of the minute is spent trying to stay afloat. it’s useless though, soon enough his legs give out and he kisses the ground hello.

there’s a sizeable dent in the concrete where you absolutely smashed him into. it reeks of danger—thrill.

“am i gonna have to teach you manners, too?” you click your tongue. “you live up to the fame, aren’t you the cutest rabid mutt?”

sanzu feels your fingers on his chin. he can’t fight back against the grip, not when he can’t tell if there’s really two of you or if that’s the work of a concussion. “rule number one, haruchiyo. you only speak when it’s something worth wasting breath on.”

he’s going limp. “is that clear?”

in all the two minutes he’s known you for, sanzu’s learned better than to go against your word. or words, he’s starting to hear double.

“yes.”

you make a mental note of his impeccable survival instinct. “good.”

RULE NO. 2: do as you’re told.

“you’ve already ditched the mask once, i don’t know why you backtracked on it.” 

sanzu remains motionless. your voice may as well have been a specter the way it goes ignored. and yet, his actions (or lack thereof) are not countered with another pummel on the drywall.

your line of work dictates a healthy dose of studying enigmas. speech, actions—none speak louder than the subconscious fidgets that compose body language. sanzu’s straightened back, clasped hands behind, and distant, firm gaze communicate enough.

he’s awaiting approval to voice his thoughts.

and that earns him another mouthful of dirt.

“i’m not your superior, haruchiyo. did i really need to repeat myself?” he looks helpless on the ground, breathing a string of curses into existence at the strain of his muscles.

his hands curl into the ground below, nearly pulling out the grass within his grip in frustration.“no, there was no need.”

sanzu does try to get up, overworking the already-sore body left from your strenuous training. (why you were expecting him in his kitchen first thing in the morning, only to drag him out to do fucking burpees, he’ll never know). 

however, once again, his efforts are fruitless. muscles fail to respond, and sanzu is left to lay on the ground. pathetic. the sudden pressure on the back of his head doesn’t allow for much struggle either. it’s heavy, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s your boot on him.

“it appears you’re misunderstanding our relationship.”

there’s not much left for sanzu than to succumb to your weight. it’s not pleasant, not in the slightest. nothing about impotence is.

“i’m going to make you into the best right-hand man. you’ll follow some rules, but you’re free to act however you wish. i’m not-”

“my superior.”

that seems to please you.  

sanzu breathes a sigh of relief when your footing no longer uses him as floor. he dares peek at the sky, but your figure blocks the sun from blinding his eyes. so why does he squint, still? your sole presence burns just as fiery.

“this is the second rule. if you plan to become useful,” suddenly he’s listening closely, attentive. “then you best honor commands, right now they’ll come from me, soon they’ll be your precious king’s own.”

sanzu bites back a scoff, draws blood from his cheek to cut any rash thoughts short. he could do this all by himself. obedience runs deep within his veins, preaches every demand as a devoted knight would to a throne; no different than a sunflower in pursuit of sustenance light years away.

he doesn’t need you.

“i understand.” so why does he follow you, no second questions asked?

a smile blesses him from the depths of hell, though your eyes don’t squint in the slightest. scary. you raise a finger to your cheek, tapping the skin twice.

sanzu proceeds to discard the black face mask without a single word of protest. it makes your lips stretch farther up.

the same boot crushing his head mere minutes ago nudges his body, sanzu now lies on his back. there’s no escape from your words, stare ever so omnipotent. “the difference between mucho and i is simple.”

is it? you’re both equally sliceable, nothing more than cartilage and bone. maybe next time you make an appearance he’ll cut you into pieces.

regardless, you’re slippery (maybe the polarity lies in that, sanzu muses). you stood proud one second, the next make of his abdomen a seat, cold hands cupping his face like he’s fine china and you, an avid collector.

“i love my hounds as they come,” you get closer, dangerously so. “snarly, scarred—they’re all the same to me.”

turquoise eyes are left to watch his destiny play before him. snap his neck, take a bite out his neck and tear the skin apart, anything could go with you.

“let’s change the second rule, haruchiyo.”

sanzu‘s breathing rags, your hands increase the pressure, and you might go for the alternative of crushing his head like a can. effortlessly.

“rule number two, you do as you’re told, but my word comes above everyone else's.”

your fingers travel north past his cheekbones, resting just below his eyes. he’s alert. you wonder what kind of canine would quiver the same way he does right now.

“is that understood?”

woof. “yes.”

RULE NO. 17: if you’re not useful, you’re out.

“don’t you get fuckin’ tired?” sanzu all but groans, drop of sweat joining the hundreds more pooling down his shirt. “surely sittin’ around while i do all the damn work wears you out.”

his words are poison, the katana in his hands is deadly, and yet, you giggle. “nah, keep doing your thing.”

there’s a fleeting thought to ditch this fight and have your head instead. although admittedly, he’d rather learn some spanish before fleeing to nicaragua with your body in five different plastic bags.

another nameless thug lunges, and it makes for another squirming body on the ground. “when you said we’d be taking care of business i thought you meant toman business.”

you know, mikey business?

sanzu bites his tongue after the sentence rolls out his mouth. as much as you’d grown accustomed to his character, he’d be sure to join the rest of motionless, bleeding goons if he disrespects you.

“toman’s dead, lost cause.”

that makes him stop the slashing. “fuck’s that mean?”

you’re satisfied with the fight for the evening, glock in hand shooting the last of targets. one bullet per head, not a single wasted. “we’re here on business to make sure there’s a place for you in the close future. bills are also due this week, two birds, one stone, yeah?”

“elaborate, “ sanzu actually growls.

“haruchiyo.”

the calling of his name makes sanzu’s shoulders roll back, back straightening out. it’s reflex now, really.

“tokyo manji is child’s play, you can’t possibly think i’m training you for them, right?”

“no, of course not,” what are you hiding? what do you really know?

your boot steps on too many limbs to reach his position, fresh blood joins the old on your sole. “correct! you’re so smart!”

sanzu misses his face mask. with it, you would be oblivious to his sneer when your hand comes up to ruffle his hair. it’s demeaning, probably intentional on your end. makes him seriously reconsider whether you’d look best with a sword through your chest.

“if you complete your training well-enough you could rule tokyo.” your eyes bore holes into his own. “wouldn’t you say all of kantou is more appealing?”

“sure?” 

you turn away from him. sanzu can finally stop holding his breath. 

“you don’t sound too convinced, haruchiyo.” only a fool would fall for your fake distress and pouty face. you’ve lost your stoic facade—deep down you’re but a childish merc with enough brute force to rival an elephant.

two fingers are raised over your shoulder, follow.

“i’m only interested in-”

“manjiro, i know.” you’d heard this story a thousand times. mikey, mikey, mikey. “and what’s gonna happen when he starts going for bigger fish? delinquency is a slippery slope into the world of crime—a rich one, too.”

sanzu can hardly picture mikey, in all his glory, waving a gun around. “you don’t know anything about him.”

you stop in your tracks.

he stops too, a good meter from you. 

“this isn’t about tokyo manji, it’s about sano manjiro.”

“they’re one in the same,” sanzu bites back. you’re not his superior, he can do as he wishes.

“haruchiyo,” your gaze is cold. “sit.”

he kneels, swallows his pride for the hundredth time.

the abandoned warehouse breathes death and rot. there’s barely moonlight dropping from the ceiling to light his path of carnage. whatever job this was had nothing to do with mikey. it makes sanzu boil over with rage. you’re wasting his time.

“what good are you to toman if there’s no mikey?” you step closer, sanzu leans forward to meet your hands. they’re cold, caressing the diamonds carved by the latter. “how are you going to serve if you’re useless?”

he avoids your stare. “i am useful.”

one of your hands moves from his cheek to stroke his hair, gently freeing the locks from his ponytail. “you are, look around.”

sanzu can distinguish around four men crawling for their life, the rest a mess of broken bones and mangled slashes. “if mikey needs to take a life, you’ll be more than prepared to strike.”

he thinks back on mucho. the thrill that kill brought him made it hard to function the rest of the day. now it’s second nature; sanzu bites and rips apart with no hesitation, takes life as if it was never there to begin with.

“listen, haruchiyo,” your hands are clean from all ichor, and he hates how good they feel on his scalp. “think of it like a mechanism.”

eyelashes flutter prior to closing, isolating his sense of sight to fully indulge in the rest. the smell of blood, sound of your analogy, a gentle caress on his face making him wish he didn’t enjoy it as much. sanzu wishes you were dead.

“a machine with bolts, springs and wheels, synced together, with purpose.”

he pictures a shrine, lost in the midst of a sea of faceless pawns. fifth farthest from commander, or founder. he pictures kids playing; a toy plane; the first command he’s ever received—he knows things are meant to be. 

“those who can't be a cog in our wheels are just scraps.”

as with any commandment you dictate, sanzu engraves the saying in his mind. carves each letter, memorizes every syllable, savors all implications.

“are you scrap, haruchiyo?”

“never.”

“good,” you coo, leaning down to graze his forehead with a kiss. the devil’s touch. “good.”

RULE NO. 99: know your place.

sanzu has come to the conclusion you’re a fucking parasite.

autumn witnessed development from cowering at our very presence, winter tied a ribbon to the unlikely friendship, and spring arrived with you at his doorstep every other day. 

you’ve become the first thing he sees in the mornings (somehow you’re always dressed by the time his eyes flutter open, janking his blankets to drag him to train: “let’s go for a walk, haruchiyo!”)

every single evening would be devoid of any personal space. whether it’s his couch being invaded, to his kitchen becoming an absolute mess with whatever recipe you’re trying to put together. no, it’s not the thought that counts, even if the heart-shaped burnt cookies were for him anyway.

the nights were probably the worst.

sanzu had long-forgotten his closet being only halfway full, nor does he know when you had practically moved your entire wardrobe into his. there’s not enough space for the two of you, and he absolutely despises how everything smells like you now.

“haruchiyo, bathtub’s ready.”

you’ve somehow achieved the impossible by making bubble baths the worst thing he can come to think of. hates the thought of getting dragged to it, absolutely detests how he tosses and turns in bed whenever he doesn't have one with you.

there's a nice scented candle on the counter serving as the lone light source within his bathroom. an obscene amount of foam clings to your hand as you test the temperature. save for the swoosh of the water, it seems sanzu might be granted the miracle of having a relaxing moment of silence in his bubble bath.

you stand, "turn around, 'm taking these off."

never fucking mind.

begrudgingly, sanzu complies. he starts to discard of his own clothes, too. his hands barely make it to the hem of his shirt before a piece of fabric lands perfectly on his head. god, you're gonna make him pop a vein.

"i'd love for you to not throw your underwear at me," sanzu has half the mind not to throw them back at you, opting for hooking a finger in the undergarment and throwing it as far away as possible.

"my bad," you're not in the least sorry. the water is too perfect to dwell on past mistakes. "c'mon, chop chop."

soon his body enters the water too, bubbles parting way as his skin kisses the still water. sanzu leans back on your body, not minding in the slightest the feel of your naked skin against his own; your body warmth rivaling the water's own.

(okay, maybe he minds a little)

"isn't this nice?"

"no," sanzu doesn't miss a beat. "have i ever told you how much i hate you?"

a good amount of shampoo is combed through his scalp by your fingers, gently massaging the area. "a couple times, yes."

let's make it thrice then: "well, i really fuckin' hate you."

what's most thrilling about sanzu haruchiyo is the double-edged blade his persona holds. failure comes with crystal clear dangers of getting diced alive, success offers a never ending supply of amusement. 

you push his head further into the water to rinse the shampoo off. there's no struggle from sanzu, you could very well drown him right now and there'd probably be no fight coming from him.

"you're seriously useless, i don't need you tellin' me what to do to appease mikey."

"close your eyes for me."

he follows your demand without missing a beat, basking in the water you pour on his face to rid the last bits of foam. "i want you dead."

early are the mornings your movement would be restricted by a pair of arms, late are the nights you'd walk home from a hit only to see his room's lights go off as soon as you enter the building. 

"you gonna leave me to shrivel like i’m raisins? get on with it."

you reach for the soap, "aren't you needy, haruchiyo?"

sanzu groans, this would seem like the perfect moment for a meteor to strike his building. rather than feeding into your delusion he keeps quiet. it’s better than talking to the wall you are. teasing, threading the rope that is his patience for you. 

hands travel across his skin, tending to it with soap that’s gonna leave sanzu reeking of your strawberry soap. “you’re funny, haruchiyo.”

it’s a shame there’s no sharp objects within his reach. “can’t wait for the day you slip and die.”

his half-empty threat procures a giggle from you. “see!”

“or the long fuckin’ awaited night you get stabbed and dumped in an alleyway.”

your laughter reverberates and bounces off the walls, and yet sanzu can’t tell if it’s sincere or genuine. 

banter ends at that, and soon he is clean. though there’s no change in position to allow for sanzu to even attempt to wash you, too. strange as it is, the peace and quiet are both rare enough, perhaps the universe has been kind enough to grant him this one moment of silence.

“but really, you are funny — i get the impression you’re all bite no bark,” enough instances of carnage and gargling on metal could easily refute this observation. you don’t care. “you whine, cry, complain, and yet you never ask for anything.”

just this morning he asked you to do the dishes (which you never did: “can’t make me”). perhaps dementia was knocking on your door a good thirty years too early. however, it’s implied you're not referring to such superficial instances.

“haruchiyo,” your body draws him impossibly closer, “what is it you wish most for?”

he tilts his head back, leaning on your shoulder. the new position allows for a better view of your face. momentarily, perchance a slip of character, his eyes wander. glance at your lips, the bubbles hugging your body from his view, squint to see what the water hides. “hell if i know.”

a hum is enough reassurance that you won’t contest his blatant lie. “okay.”

a splish, splash, and overflowing water hitting the tile, sanzu is now the one kneading at your hair, soap lathering and cleaning. intimacy at its finest. delectable sweetness as you lean back, and take a nibble of his jugular. it earns you a pinch on your hip.

“say, you in the mood for a new addition to the rulebook?”

“not in the slightest.”

his honesty is met with a splash of water to his face, “too bad, take note.”

sanzu rolls his eyes, cost of opportunity heavy with regret since, of course, he forgot to carry a toaster into the bathroom to finally take you out.

“know your part wherever you are—learn when to be the hanged, and when to be executioner.”

it’s random. it’s ironic. “if we’re playin’ like that, then your authority’s worth jack shit to me.”

“is that so?”

once again, the question is left unanswered. hung and forgotten.

“i think your act and place should always be by my side” you muse. it’s custom you add a rule to the list and immediately reform it.

a phantom feeling tugs at his throat, like a collar being yanked. hands that operate under your every order move to rest on your thighs. underwater, there’s no hierarchy; nudity knows no ruler from subject. “and if i say no?”

“you won’t.”

a horrifying realization dawns on sanzu haruchiyo that night. as his fingers inch dangerously higher, and higher, as the water turns cold, carelessly splashing outside the bathtub. as his teeth sink everywhere and two become one, sanzu haruchiyo comes to a gut wrenching conclusion.

‘you won’t.’

it’s true. maybe words can’t ever describe what he wishes for, but it’s easy to cross out what he doesn’t want.

sanzu knows he doesn’t want to stop. doesn’t wish for your hand to ever release his bicep from that deathly grip, or for you to stop making those noises, nor does he want anything but your warmth once it’s all said and done.

sanzu knows he doesn’t wish for you to ever leave, and maybe that’s enough.

RULE NO. 275: forget everything i've taught you.

"..what?" sanzu is beyond confused.

"yeah, you're good to go, no need to follow anything i've said anymore."

the room was empty. manjiro had long since left, the eldest haitani had grown bored of your mongrel staring him down with every flirt he shot your way, and the rest of kantou manji had simply shown themselves out for their own various reasons that no one truly cares for.

the gears are still turning on his head, cerebrum working overtime to decipher the new mandate, or lack thereof? schrodinger's rulebook, perhaps?

“you look good in white, you know.” as if you hadn’t just nuked everything he’s ever known, you lean forward to adjust his collar. your favorite pretty boy, dearest psychopath. “let me tie your hair for you.”

“what the fuck do you mean?”

he hates the feigned confusion you present him with. hates the tilt of your head so much he actually unsheathes his katana, blade steady and barely a few inches from your neck. it further irritates him your obvious lack of response, not even a flinch.

any other day you’d play the clueless game, but there’s really no one paying you the hour anymore. “it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

“why are you acting like you’re,” sanzu bares his teeth, disgusted at just the thought of the word, “like you’re ditching?”

interesting phrasing. not ‘leaving,’ that would imply abandonment, a cry of weakness. ‘ditching’ pins blame from the moment it is vocalized, like whatever you’re doing, actions sanzu is still trying to decode, is irrevocably your fault.

steel kisses your neck, close enough to feel the cold, and the lack of wavering. you’re proud of haruchiyo, really. “gonna miss me?”

“you don’t leave a gang.” there’s the helpless child in disguise. 

“manjiro took you in as vice,” you don’t bother with swatting the katana away, instead moving close enough to feel his hitched breath on your lips. arms thrown over his shoulders, fingers combing and threading to jail his locks into a ponytail. “i’d say my work is done.”

triads of protest die in his throat. shackles finally dissipate into thin air, long were the solstices he prayed for this day to come. yet sanzu feels himself floating away at the lack of grounding. he’s gonna be sick. 

for once the silence is suffocating. overwhelming. unwelcome. the katana slowly scurries back into hiding, desperately like an animal rolling over to flaunt it’s belly; a last ditch effort of submission.

“aren’t you excited?”

he can finally kill you. he can finally roll over in bed and not find you there. he can finally return to being alone, and the strongest, and-

sanzu doesn’t do as he’s told. 

“you finally have what you want.”

sanzu isn’t useful.

“you’ve been acknowledged.”

sanzu doesn’t know his place.

“you’re finally free.”

sanzu shoves you with enough force to stumble back onto the wide table in the meeting room, it’s surprising how it doesn’t shatter. there’s not enough time in a second to allow a reaction, not when he overpowers you for the second time, back slamming against the wood, sanzu’s body nestling between your legs. you can let him have this.

sanzu is stiff. he’s not used to being the one to leap first when it comes down to your dynamics. it feels unnatural to cage you like this, for your legs to wrap and pull him closer, like you’re mocking him. “you’re not my superior.”

one of your hands trail up his arm. “that’s correct.”

“then you’re my enemy.”

you tug him down, lips finding themselves naturally drawn right under his jaw. there’s no verbal answer to his introspection. 

“then i’ve beat you — i’m stronger than you.”

sanzu most certainly did not miss the floating sensation your attacks give him. by all means, physically, he should be stronger. so, physically too, it’s odd when your hand pushes his weight effortlessly, and your leg locks on to successfully beat his ass and pin him down. it sucks feeling a concussion in the brewing. 

he’s always looked prettier under you. “now that you’re on your own, haruchiyo, prepare to make mistakes.” his hands instinctively fly to your waist, “learn from them.”

sanzu groans, he himself doesn’t know if it’s the pain speaking or the built up frustration, “‘s that a new rule?”

the juxtaposition of slamming sanzu on the table and the gentle hands that come to tilt his head is a little funny. his skin smells of strawberries as you ghost your lips across it. “they’re parting words.”

it’s by no means a new position he’s found himself in. and yet he feels stumped. helplessly watching as the fire crackles its last sparks, as the last train starts to close its doors. even your body starts to feel like a distant whisper.

"haruchiyo, i want you to remember me." you're positive even the idea is far-fetched. the way his muscles tense and eyes narrow at your every call is automatic now. "memorize how my fingers feel on your jaw."

sanzu nearly purrs at the contact, and it's pathetic. he could never forget the grip, your hand looks best when it's on his face. 

"memorize my voice, you must."

it goes without saying he already has. plenty were the nights he woke up in cold sweat, hallucinating you in every shadow and crevice; many more he’s coped by turning in bed and found the warmest embrace in your arms.

he can't live without you.

"haruchiyo, what else can i do for you to remember me, forever and always?"

'what is it you wish most for?'

he remembers the seventeenth rule, remembers the day you promised him a reward far beyond being an asset to mikey. sanzu had reflected on it far too long. what could he possibly ask from you?

power is all he ever wants. being of importance, too. both are things he could never have from you. 

you have it all. you best him in every way possible. 

maybe, in just one thing, he can overthrow you. "a kiss."

sanzu has come to the conclusion there's no healthy middle when it comes to you. his mind splits between wanting your head on a stick and fighting urges to leap and bite at your lip until blood is drawn. 

perhaps an impulse to prove himself useful so you stay. a test of courage, his mouth wherever you need it most, whatever it is that will make you forever forget the thought of leaving him to fend for himself like a mutt.

"a kiss?" you've never looked more inviting than now, leaning back to stare him down, slowly blinking, a stray lock of hair falling out of place.

you’re making him feel real stupid. a small fraction cringing at his request, as if he had been reading the mood wrong and just completely ruined the moment (as if you straddling and leaving a mark or two on his neck could mean anything else). 

eyes never once stray from his stare. sanzu really is funny.

you lean back down, unamused with the shit-eating grin that’s stretching across his face. first comes the corner of his lips, a fleeting brush of your lips, a ghost to acknowledge his diamonds. sanzu’s fingers dig onto your hips as, painfully slowly, you align with his lips. 

sanzu haruchiyo, akaashi haruchiyo, your pride and joy. only way to commemorate would be by taking a bite out of him, how could you not?

your teeth sink mercilessly on his bottom lip. sanzu fights a choked cry, it hurts, and you don’t pull away until he’s left bleeding, panting, and so very dissatisfied. unfulfilled. bested again. 

“find me again,” as a treat, you kiss the half of his lips, stealing the red drops for yourself.

“money,” you kiss his cheek. “power,” he seeks your lips again, struggling for his wish. “influence,” you pull back.

sanzu grumbles a protest or two, flailing in a last ditch effort to claim what was his. your hand on his neck kills any hope of that. 

a finger swipes his bottom lip, teasing the lack of prize right in his face. “become someone with all three under his sleeve and you’ll find me again.”

the frustration is building back up. murderous desires. the need to fight you for control.

“is that understood?”

nevertheless, you’ve disciplined him well. “yes.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

⠀⠀also hbd to my least favorite person @k9wa

[merajsblog]

you and yuji are dating!! you guys find a weekend you can spend together at your house, and yuji brings nobara and megumi along :) you guys plan for a group sleepover!! everything is going amazing until something out of the blue happens…after the weekend, things seem almost tense between you and megumi. your fear of his feelings is creeping up on you. you must be going crazy, right?

this is a part two!! first part here: https://www.tumblr.com/merajsblog/734236703639879680/synopsis-you-and-yuji-are-dating-you-guys-find

——

you sighed quietly, eyes focused lazily on the screen infront of you. your head was propped in yujis lap, his hands running softly over the side of your face. you had an early mission tomorrow, but you wanted to spend these rare precious moments with your friends. the higher ups were spreading gojo thin, and your fellow classmates were trying to cover as many missions as possible. nobara was snoring on the couch next to you guys, megumi next to her.

stretching, you slowly got up. yuji looked at you, eyebags crowding his puppy eyes staring at you as you moved out of his reach.

“what’s wrong?” he said cocking his head to the side. “nothing, it’s just getting late and i think we have a mission tomorrow.” you said pointing at megumi. he was already looking. his sharp blue eyes were piercing yours, seeing past everything else. you snap the eye contact, facing at yuji.

his pink messy hair was slowly growing, his hand running sloppily over the back of it. eyebags crowded under his eyes, discoloration setting in. his soft brown eyes looked darker, and less focused as he watched the show. you snickered softly, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. he immediately took that opportunity and grabbed you, releasing a giggle from you. “i can walk you back, im tired too.” he said softly.

“i’m also walking that way too.” megumi said, getting up.

“oh fushiguro, always coming to the rescue.” yuji said smiling, flashing his teeth.

“well let’s all go then.” nobara was fast asleep, and everyone figured better than to wake her…

sneaking away, you all headed towards the door. walking out one by one, megumi infront, you in the middle and yuji following shortly behind. megumi slowly cracks the door open, peaking his spikey head out, checking for anyone. you didn’t want to be chastised for being up late.

“ok it’s clear guys.” megumi says, slowly exiting.

“hurry up fushiguro, before gojo somehow sees us with his six eyes or something…” yuji says, placing a hand on your lower back as he attempts to make you move a little faster. you’re all walking properly towards the rooms, when all of a sudden you hear the doors creak. megumi immediately stops moving, causing you to bump into him. you place your hands on his back, trying to brace yourself from the impact. immediately when you realize his warmth seeping into your hands, you let go. stepping back a bit, you feel yujis chest against your back. yujis eyes are focused clearly on whatever you’ve heard infront of you, one of his hands sneaked around your waist. whatever you heard is approaching closer, megumi takes a slow step back, arm sticking out as if he is covering you and yuji. you gulp quietly, biting your bottom lip. you won’t be a problem if something happens. you won’t let yourself be left behind by them. you knew how to fight and you didn’t want to let yourself forget that.

panda steps around the corner. you all immediately slump.

“really guys.” he says staring at you with his black eyes. you crack a grin, “hey…” you say.

you guys are back on the move again, reaching megumis room first. yujis was right behind it. it was unspoken to you two that you would sleep over at yujis, you’d been practically doing it all semester. megumis hand reached the back of his head. “so where will we meet?” he says looking at you.

“i can just come knock on your door.” you say smiling softly.

he nods not looking at you. “i’ll see you tomorrow then.”

the door shuts softly before yuji is shuffling you into his room. his hands are soft and warm. his eyes follow you constantly. his hands are calloused and scared, as were parts of his face. he treated you with kindness and softness. he loved you. you two cuddled together, fit like two puzzle pieces together.

you couldn’t ask for more. or could you?

~~~

the morning woke you with gloomy clouds and the sun barley breaking through. yujis arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his thump tracing small circles around your belly button. you pressed a small kiss to his head before getting up. you got dressed, donning your uniform. you were a mess but it wasn’t like the curse was gonna care..

standing out in the hallway you waited patiently for megumi to step outside. after a few minutes passed, your patience was running low. you softly knocked on his door, trying to not wake yuji in the room next door. as soon as you knocked, without the chance to even step back, the door swung open. megumi is standing there, his sweatpants not fully pulled up, and his shirt neckline is on crooked. he definitely just woke up. grabbing your arm before you can even say anything, he yanks you into the room. his room is dim, with soft lighting. his sheets are dark, reflecting the stormy weather outside. his desk is organized, the dish sink empty. his uniform is layed out nicely on his little table.

“i’m sorry,” he blurts out, “i didn’t think i would wake up late give me a minute.” he says. he’s grabbing at his sweater, as if he’s going to take it off- you spin around immediately. “oh, um sorry this is awkward..” he says hearing you turn. “i’ll be done quick.” and he is. as you turn around after getting the ok from him, you notice his collar isn’t buttoned. stepping closer without a word, you button it, focusing on the swirls of the emblem. he’s speechless. you’re even prettier up close. he’s done and now you two are heading out, without you even saying a word.

“i figured one of us would wake up late because of how late the movie was last night.” you said finally. your voice was a little horse from just waking up. “well thank you for waking me up.” he says looking at you. everytime you make eye contact it’s like locking onto each other. it makes you squirm. it’s like he’s seeing inside of you. like there’s no stop to his gaze. you break eye contact first.

as you wait for the car, you two are standing there. the car is pulling up shortly after. the doors open, and you two step in. the ipads for debrief are put in your hands as you head off. hopefully this mission will be easy enough to get back and sleep more…or so you hope. not everything seems to be going your way though…

[wttcsms]

oh my god wait there's so many sorry i like. blacked out seeing balancing act ii LOL

please tell me about brace for impact akaashi... or making things up as we go osamu......... my heart surrenders kiyoomi??? where's the trophy suna?????? (sorry i picked so many you can just choose whichever you wanted to talk about haha)

(i love reading your thoughts about your writing. you're always so careful with themes and the portrayal of the character and the reader and your syntax is always so thoughtful it's so. good. so good!!)

AHHHHH okay im gonna try to refrain from yapping ur ear off but these are some of my faves so, speed running through 'em:

brace for impact starring rich girl w/ absent parents!reader x canon timeskip!akaashi; your family is good friends with his + because you're in your rebellious eighteen year old phase (you're described as an irresponsible, irreverent party girl + you have a string of one night stands and just overall demonstrate reckless behavior), your family asks if it's okay if you live with a twenty-two year old akaashi and have him watch over you. roommates to lovers, opposites attract, the whole nine yards!!!! one of my favorite lines i've written abt romance comes from this fic & it's a bit silly, but i think it does showcase love pretty well. reader is going to be a reformed party girl at this point, but she tells akaashi "you're my person. you're the one who would wake up at 2am even though you have to get up at 5:30 just to walk through frat party and search for me in the bushes because you know that's where i would be passed out in. no one else would do that for me. not a lot of people would do that for anyone." and an excerpt of one of my fave scenes:

making things up as we go!!!! oh so fun!!!! secret heiress to one of the biggest food companies in the world!reader x canon timeskip!osamu !!!!!!! SO FUN!!!!!!! reader is very bubbly and happy go lucky. you're working undercover at her family's company & no one really respects you. the truth is, you're set to inherit the business but you don't really like the business aspect of things. you're a literal ray of sunshine but you're so bad at your job that your coworkers get frustrated with you + everyone knows that you're rich. you're genuinely nice, but rich and pretty and practically un-hateable?? ofc ppl will get jealous and hate you anyway 😭 so you usually go to lunch alone, and you're a MASSIVE foodie. you find onigiri miya + you quickly become one of his regulars and the story is sectioned off in meals that you share (it'll make sense when you see the excerpt LOL) + there are SO many romcom scenes i want to write in it!!! but a big part of this fic is chasing your dreams, no matter what people say or how scared you are. reader actually wants to be a mukbanger LOL, or do food vlogging. because it's what you enjoy. and so you do make a mukbang channel & it's slow growing at first, and osamu doesn't reveal he's your first subscriber so one day you come running into the store, out of breath and so excited, and you're like "osamu!!! my latest video got 26 views and 2 likes and i got a new subscriber!!!!!" (i think i'll have him use that throwaway account he made to subscribe to also comment on ur vids to encourage you <3)

this whole fic makes u feel like ur listening to a really upbeat beabadoobee song <3 but we get really hot osamu, too. ugh i need the cliche fun moment where you're cooking together and for some reason, you get flour all over yourself and do that silly thing where you also get osamu equally messy since he's teasing you and you're both laughing and having a tiny "fight" where you're throwing flour at each other and then he totally ends up accidentally backing you into the counter and you're so close to each other that he could easily just lean down a bit and kiss you right then and there. reader coming into onigiri miya before they open and sitting all pretty while osamu is busy doing inventory and you pause mid-story because holy shit, how is he lifting so many bags of rice at a time and has his biceps always been so big and his black uniform shirt so snug???? i want him to be jealous of you going on a date until you come back like a day later to give him a recap and the restaurant your date chose was AWFUL and you're both foodies so you and osamu are bonding over how bad his taste is. know that there is going to be a scene where reader and osamu have an indirect kiss and you're totally freaking out about it (and he might be too 🤭) like you two share a straw because you want him to try your drink and you're practically shoving it in his face so he just leans in and sips it all casually and is like "ur right, it's good" and you're just thinking abt his lips touching the same straw your lips have and you're like 🤭🤭🤭 AND!!!!

reader and him totally bond over the fact that sometimes the dingiest restaurants that r tucked away in hard to find locations who serve their meals in not the most aesthetic plating have some of the best meals. something abt the sticky floors and faded outdated menus and elderly couple running the joint just hits differently. ugh and him and you start sharing meals bc reader wants to eat w him and it’s partly bc you're so alone but your philosophy is that food tastes better when shared/eaten with someone you care for and so maybe somewhere towards the end, you're like walking and he breaks off a piece of some snack and gives you the bigger half and you're like “osamu, i want to share all my food with you for the rest of my life.”

MY HEART SURRENDERS!!! one of my beloved followers requested an ex-husband to lovers fic with sakusa and the two of you have a kid but you both got married young and sakusa is a bit too prideful and a touch too silent when he needs to communicate so you two get divorced.

someone else asked for where's the trophy so that will be answered elsewhere hehe (this post is already obnoxiously long LMAO)

[naavispider]

BESITE BESITEBFZJFHDBFICHZ

ONGOSBDEIF

OMG I HAVE A GIGABRAIN IDEA, THE MOST AMAZING PROMPT IM SURE YOU’LL FIND IT INTERESTING

A SEA STORM

AND SPIDER GETS THROWN OFF BOARD BY A WAVE

AND IF WHEN QUARITCH SAVES HIM HE SEES SPIDER HAS NO MASK SO HE TRIES TO GET HIM BACK ABOARD AS FAST AS POSSIBLE WHILE HIS BBY HYPERVENTILATES TRYING TO BREATHE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

This ask has been in my inbox for AGES (I'm so sorry) but every time I look at it I DIE thinking about it. Not Spider being thrown off the ship by a wave 😭😭 Here's a little crack drabble 😭

Spider grabbed for the nearest railing as the ship bowed again, dropping steeply as it descended the crest of another tremendous wave, sending Spider's stomach flying up through his throat. His feet left the deck and he clung to the wet railing as tightly as he could. He needed to get inside, now. 

“Spider!” He thought he could hear distant shouts calling his name, but they were lost to the wind and sea spray that assaulted his face, obscuring his mask. Then, the ship slammed back down onto the surface of the churning ocean, sending Spider hard to the floor. The force of it was so great that he momentarily lost his grip on the slippery railing, and with a jolt of panic found himself sliding along the deck in the direction of the stern of the ship. He was going to be washed away. He scrabbled desperately to find something - anything - to cling on to, but the metal deck was perfectly smooth, and he couldn’t control the direction he was sliding in. 

He felt the burn of the friction on his exposed skin, but it was overpowered by the dreadful realization that another wave was looming behind the ship - and he was headed straight for it. Thunder cracked and lightning illuminated the silhouette of the 70 foot wave. Spider stared at it for a moment that contained an eternity. 

This was it. 

It was going to crash down on them, and he would be lost to the sea. He didn’t have time to say a prayer to Eywa, because he hit the railing at the stern with an almighty crash, unable to brace himself in time. Pain bloomed in his side - it felt like he’d cracked at least a hundred bones with the impact. He reached his hands to grip on, and braced himself for the seconds before the wave crashed down. He didn’t look up to see his fate, but the darkening of the light around him told him that the wave was upon them… it was right above them… any minute now…

He took the deepest breath he was capable of, and braced. 

Water slammed into him from above with the force of a thousand direhorses. His skin burned and his body crumpled under the weight of the onslaught. He had no choice but to let go of the railings, knowing his fate was sealed. Water was all around him. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even feel anything. He was lost, tumbling and swirling in a freezing void of grey. Panicked seconds passed, and still he was submerged. The deck was gone from below him. Something was wrong, he should have come up for air by now. He didn’t know where he was, his lungs had frozen up from the icy water and nothing made sense. 

He kicked out against the water, not caring about anything other than finding the surface. His hands reached upwards - or what he assumed was upwards - to try and claw himself towards air, and it was at that point that his fingers brushed past the tubing of his mask. It was floating next to his neck, unconnected to anything. He’d been holding his breath instinctively, but more panic surged through him as he realised the mask was compromised… the exopack had been ripped away by the storm surge. 

He kicked violently towards where the water seemed lighter - surely that was the surface. He continued to be battered and thrown constantly, but he never gave up. He had to make it. 

Just when he was sure his lungs couldn't hold out any longer, his fingers found air, and his head quickly followed. He breached the surface with a gasp of grateful air - completely forgetting that the Pandoran atmosphere was no longer filtered for him. 

Immediately, his head began to swim and dizziness clouded over his brain like a fog. He gasped for breath again - the only thing he could possibly do. 

As he knew it would, the dizziness doubled in ferocity and the backs of his eyes burned. This was it. This was how he went. He closed his eyes against the pain, and his final thoughts were a plea to Eywa for acceptance. 

*****

“Shit, Colonel, he’s overboard!” came a shout from Wainfleet, struggling to be heard over the roar of the storm. 

The recoms were clinging to the rail on the starboard side of the top deck, but when a wave had swept Spider away towards the stern, they’d screamed after him. 

Quaritch wasn’t waiting to be told. He had been fighting his way towards Spider since the first waves had crashed on the ship, but the kid was so small and fragile and… human. He simply couldn’t hold onto anything against the force of the water. 

“Spider!” Quaritch screamed for the hundredth time in the past half an hour. Where was he? He’d gone.. disappeared over the side. Quaritch couldn’t see him. He ran as best as he could towards the stern, but the swaying of the boat made him slow. Waves crashed against him, but he made it. His eyes scanned the churning ocean, but it was a nightmare. The water was grey, frothing, and choppier than Quaritch had ever seen on Earth, even including the gigantic sea storms as the planet cried out to be saved. It was apocalyptic. 

It was hopeless.

Wainfleet staggered up behind him, and a second later he was followed by Z-dog and Mansk, all of them desperately scanning the waves for signs of Spider. 

“There!” Z-dog shouted, pointing to a spot a hundred feet away. 

Quaritch searched the waves desperately, finally catching sight of a tiny head bobbing at the surface, a ragdoll in the waves. 

Without thinking, Quaritch leapt head first into the waves. He hit the water hard - he knew that if he were still human, he never would have survived it. It was stupid. It was necessary. It was the only thing he could do. 

Relishing in his Na’vi strength and stamina, he furiously swam towards the spot he’d last seen Spider. Waves towered over him now, and it was difficult to keep sight of the boy. When the next wave lowered, he found him again. Spider was floating twenty feet away, and Quaritch finally reached him, breathless and lungs burning. 

Shit. 

Spider’s exopack was missing. Quaritch turned the unconscious boy over in his arms, searching for the equipment as if it would just be floating nearby. Heart pounding, he found the disconnected tubing that connected Spider’s mask to the bare Pandoran atmosphere. 

“Fuck!” he shouted, turning back to the ship and dragging the boy with him. Wainfleet was at the deck, still clinging on, and he threw a buoy over the side that Quaritch made a beeline for. It was difficult enough keeping his own head above water, let alone the unconscious Spider’s. He didn’t have time to worry about it though. The kid had been without oxygen for too long, too many precious minutes. He finally reached the buoy, and the next thing he heard was the sound of chopping cutting through the air from a Sampson gunship above them. He gasped for breath, looking up at the dark sky and praying that the monstrous waves would relent for just another minute. 

“Come on, Spider, hold on!” he shouted at his son’s empty face. He ripped the boy’s mask off, since he noticed with a jolt that it had started to fill with water. “Shit!” Mansk and Z-dog appeared on hoists from the floating Sampson above their heads. “Give him here,” Z-dog shouted as she pulled Spider from the Colonel’s arms, signalling to the pilot of the aircraft to hoist them up. Spray splattered the group as Quaritch grabbed onto Mansk to be pulled up himself. 

“His mask disconnected!” he shouted. “Radio the med bay now!”

Mansk did so and they were lifted into the Sampson. As soon as Quaritch unclipped himself, he staggered straight over to Spider, fitting him with a fresh mask before checking for a pulse. It was there, faintly, but the kid wasn’t breathing. “Fuck!” he shouted. What did he do now?

*******

Spider woke up in a brightly lit room. The first thing he became aware of was his pounding headache, his burning throat, and pain all over the right side of his chest. 

He tried to make a sound, but all that came out was a dry rasp. Then he tried to sit up, but that was no good either. He cried out when his ribs protested harshly.

He looked around, trying to assess where he was and what had happened. He was on the Sea Dragon - he recognised the decor. But this was a different part of the ship. It was white, sterile, and filled with medical equipment. So, the med bay.

At that point, the doors to the left opened noisily and in strolled Quaritch, looking frantic and haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Deep lines littered his forehead, and there were purple shadows under his eyes. Spider tried to croak a snide comment, but found his head hurt too much to even think of forming words. 

“Spider!” The recom’s face came back to life when he realised he was awake. His eyes widened in a mixture of relief and concern, and he crossed the room quickly to kneel next to Spider’s bed. 

“Jesus kid, you had us worried there!” He placed an uncertain hand on Spider’s arm.

Spider looked at him through bleary eyes, valiantly trying to form a sentence in his mind before exerting the effort of speech. “Wh-” he cleared his throat painfully. “What happened?” 

Quaritch huffed in fake amusement. “Well, you’re a little survivor is what happened. The storm threw you overboard and you lost your exopack. I jumped in to get you, and we managed to pull you out.”

Spider frowned slowly. “Y-you… jumped in?”

“Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head though… I’m a natural swimmer and I’d have done it for any unlucky bastard that fell in.” Spider stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or not. He couldn’t tell if Quaritch was being serious. He couldn’t tell much of anything right now. 

“You’re still pretty out of it, huh?” Quaritch asked. “You should get some rest… I’ll leave you alone to sleep.”

“No!” Spider surprised himself with the sudden steadiness of his voice. “You- you don’t have to…” he muttered, embarrassed at the way he was coming across. 

Quaritch considered him for a moment, before grinning slyly, and settling back into the chair. 

Spider let himself relax back into the sheets, and as soon as he had closed his eyes again he was passed out, safe in the knowledge that Quaritch would look out for him.

[dracocheesecake]

THOUGHTS ARE BREWING ABOUT REWRITING KFP4

Brace for impact cause I’ve been ruminating for weeks on how to redo it because like, there’s so many directions you could take it. BUT IM THINKING OF AN INTERESTING WAY TO REWRITE THE CHAMELEON AND AUGHHH I MUST BLAB

Cause obviously it’s a bullshit thing that her excuse for being evil is that she wasn’t allowed to know kung fu because she’s too small. We all know its dumb with Shifu, Mantis, and literally Master Chicken existing. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT ISNT STUPID? The womanly coded rage of “I don’t need to be good, I need to be GREAT” and like sure its not like a characteristic of female rage but when that thought process is within a woman it takes on a whole different kinda tone compared to a man. Miss Chameleon who, while living in a universe where there isn’t really overt sexism, still feels overlooked by all the men around her.

In my rewrite of her story, not only would she have known kung fu, but she would have been a master herself. But her problem (like the running themes of all the kfp villains which ties her to the bunch we’ve seen already) is that she wants for more than is her lot in life. Her flaw is that she can’t live in mediocrity. She can’t accept that the skills she has developed are the best she’s ever going to get. Especially when it’s not garnering the same attention from others the way Master Ox or Master Bear have. It develops this intense superiority complex and innate jealousy within her that she feels she pales in comparison to her colleagues. Which leads to her trying to copy their styles. It doesn’t work, people shame her for trying to be a copycat.

So, she tries a different approach, and see if there’s any new skills she can develop. And wouldn’t you know, she’s heard of all the tales of Master Oogway and his spiritual powers and you know, he invented Kung Fu and is known and loved far and wide, so he had to have done something right! So, she tries to learn chi. She fails. Or, in her mind, she fails. It’s not as strong as she wants it to be, again, working but living in mediocrity. She wants to stand out, she wants to shine.

So, Master Chameleon disappears mysteriously from the kung fu world. Nobody knows where she went or what happened to her, but her village checked her training grounds and all of her pupils (the iguanas/lizards we see fighting for her) are just. Gone. Deserted.

That’s when she pops up in Juniper City. A place that doesn’t know anything about kung fu or its masters, a city she can make entirely for herself. She presents herself to the government/council, introducing herself as the solution to all the crime running rampant through the place, and proves herself by actually showing off her intelligence and skills at apprehending and beating the criminals. It’s not long before she’s hailed as a savior to the city and has the council paying tribute to her and building her her own fortress so that she can train others (in reality, she makes her training intentionally too cruel on the people in the city who volunteered to learn to discourage them so she could sweetly suggest she ask her pupils back at her side) to defend the city more strongly.

She’s basically the kingpin of the city now. She’s manipulated the council into doing whatever she wants. And all along she’s making deals with the criminal overlords for more money and glory and such. The only ones who don’t bow to her is The Den, due to their structure being more familial rather than hierarchal. They fought a lot because of this power struggle, and similar to that drabble you wrote, The Chameleon would be brutal, taking the lives of their friends and such, to the point where the neutral point is Han taking what’s left of his community under ground to keep them protected, and Chameleon considers them too puny to waste her time when she’s got bigger goals.

Namely, Zhen. Zhen was a consequence of all the fighting done, the last victim from The Den so to speak. Only, the little fox wasn’t killed. Similarly to the movie, Chameleon notices her drive and skill and decides she’s worth the time to apprentice, and she needs something to busy herself with, because in the meantime, she’s basically inventing sorcery.

Using chi the way it has been used didn’t work for her. But she heard through the grapevine about Po’s battle with General Kai, how he perverted chi for his own gain, which gave her an idea. She wasn’t going to do it the way Kai had, she didn’t just want the power of their energy, she wanted to take everything from everyone who thought they were above her. Their soul, their skills, their everything. This thought process leads to her true plans and motivations: to be the only kung fu master.

She’s still having some troubles working out the kinks of her sorcery while she trains Zhen, grows close to the little fox. Only, Zhen isn’t like her other students. She’s trained them to be competent, sharp and know their jobs, but Zhen was pushed farther, and took things farther. And once again, that burning jealousy took root in Chameleon as she saw her pupil flourish more than she originally thought capable. There was pride of course at first, molding Zhen to her ideals and image. But the fox turned from student to competition as she began to experiment with her own style. In turn, Chameleon experimented on her. Zhen wasn’t expecting it, but when called to her, Chameleon threw her beta tested move at her…and it worked. That trick we saw in the movie, only it took everything from Zhen, and by the end of it…there was nothing left of her. All of her spirit, skills and even appearance was given solely to the Chameleon. She can only shapeshift into the people she’s absorbed in my rewrite. She hadn’t fully expected it to work, and a small, miniscule part of her felt guilty for doing that to her dearest little pupil who trusted her so blindly. But it opened a gateway for her.

And yeah! I won’t go into everything because I’ve talked so very much but omg I needed to get this out. And it’s necessary, because there are two running themes with kfp villains: they are greedy for more in some twisted goal, and they end up hurting somebody very close to them, there’s always betrayal somewhere. Tying that into her story makes her feel like she’s an actual villain of this universe in my head.

(Sorry this took so long to answer I had to get my thoughts together because OH BOY-)

Holy smokes this is all genuinely so, so good and a hundred times better than what we ended up getting. Because first of all: you turned the Chameleon into a character, instead of just a villain. Not to mention you gave her a motive that gives her complexity and makes her actually interesting (and the audience can't justify, but understand why she's doing what she's doing!). AND YOU MADE HER SCARY! An actual, serious threat! That imagery the description of poor Zhen's fate this conjures is spine-chilling. I wouldn’t mind seeing this version of the Chameleon on screen!

Also the way it actually follows the lore and continuity of the previous movies in a way that makes sense! The running theme of "being the best you you can be"- in this sense, her version is a twisted version of Po's journey; wanting to be the best version of herself...at the cost of all others! I could go on, but yeah this is an awesome rewrite idea!!!

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

Terminator and buggy

My never-ending efforts at trying to write 40k

-

With a roar of engine and crunching of gears the buggy zoomed over the rubble and came crashing down heavily in the more-or-less clear street the other side of what had until recently been some buildings. Safe. For now.

Though it was hard for Guzzdag to appreciate this, as the manoeuvre had very nearly seen him vaulted from his spot on the rear deck, and not for the first time. Only by clinging to the guns had he managed to stay on the vehicle at all, and even then it had been close. Now they weren’t bouncing around he was able to relax a little and demonstrate his unhappiness.

This he had by forcefully kicking Wazzsnik, the driver, in the back of the head.

“Wotch wot your doin’! You nearly got me out da zoggin’ buggy! Again!”

“Ah, stop whinin’ ya grot. Got us away, din’t I?”

Guzzdag couldn’t argue with this. Since the marine boys had shown up staying alive had got much harder much faster. The humies before then had been good for fighting, yes, and had certainly shot up a lot of the boys good and proper, but they’d also had the decency to die when shot at or chopped. The marines had no sense of fair play though, and were just killing everything. No fun at all.

Of course, Guzzdag wanted to argue with what his driver had said, and was thinking about how best to do this when he spotted something up ahead. Something big. He squinted.

“Oi! Wazza! Look ‘dere!” He shouted, pointing, and kicking the back of the driving seat instead, which was less liable to be taken as a direct insult.

“I see it!”

Emerging from some rubble a few hundred metres away and stomping into the street was what was obviously one of those mega-armoured marines. What one of them was doing here, on his own, was a mystery, and orks are notoriously uninterested in mysteries unless they look like the kind of mysteries you can steal and use as a weapon. This was just a target, and a good one at that - walking right into the middle of the road!

Guzzdag grinned and racked the lever that worked the slides on the half-dozen or so shootas (of varying sizes) that were strapped to the back of the buggy. He didn’t need to do this, obviously, but he wanted to do this, and it did make a very satisfying sound. He then opened fire.

“Dakka dakka dakka!” He roared, at a volume that was able to comfortably compete with the din of the guns. Enormous muzzle flare stabbed out and bullets whipped and snapped down the street, almost all of them hilariously wide of the target. The target, for his part, had stopped crossing and had turned to face the oncoming vehicle, shifting position to brace for impact. Neither driver nor gunner gave this much thought.

One or two bullets did actually land on target but, given the armour involved, this did nothing other than make sparks. Wazzsnik was highly amused.

“You’s rubbish!” He shouted backwards. Guzzdag growled and squeezed the triggers harder. Inexplicably, this made him more accurate, but all that did was make more sparks. Meanwhile, Wazzsnik was fiddling with valves. The distance was closing.

“Imma ram ‘im! Full speed! Whoosh!”

He hit a button, a big red one. The engine made an extremely loud, unhappy noise. The buggy lurched and hurtled forward even faster than it had already been going, and it had already been going so fast they’d lose one of the wheel-covers halfway back down the street when it had rattled clean off the chassis. Not that either of the orks had noticed.

What they did notice - a split-second before the collision - was the lightning playing around the big fist the marine had. It was a lot of lightning, and it trailed brightly behind the fist as the marine swung it up and brought it down…

…right on the front of the buggy.

The marine’s timing was absolutely perfect. The instant before the buggy would have made contact the fist punched straight down, crumpling through riveted armour plating, crunching the engine, and driving the whole front half of the vehicle into the road. The rear, carrying momentum, flipped, clipped the marine (who barely rocked) and carried on, now spinning end-over-end.

Guzzdag had a momentary impression this before everything went momentarily black. When that passed he was a lot further along the street than he remembered. The buggy was gone, too, though there were lots of bits of it around that he could see. Some of them were on fire. Wazzsnik was still holding the steering wheel at least, Guzzdag saw, though where the rest of him had ended up the gunner had no idea.

Trying to stand, Guzzdag found he couldn’t, and he quickly discovered this was because everything below his waist was missing. Casting his eye around he saw his legs lying on some rubble nearby. If he got them they could probably get put back on, he thought, so he started dragging himself towards them.

A giant, armoured foot then stomped down into view in front of him, casting the ork into shadow. Oh yes. The marine. In all the excitement of the crashing and the dismemberment Guzzdag had quite forgotten about the marine. He looked up.

He was looking into twin gun barrels.

“Zog,” he said.

It was all he had time to say.

[vex03]

and the cycle repeats

highs and lows, crests and troughs… ugh. the recurring headaches (migraines? cluster headaches? i have no clue at this point. all i know is that they are hellish) have returned. it seems i am at the downswing of this cycle. they come for me every single day now. for the past two weeks i writhe around nightly and wish i could be anybody else. be in anyone else’s body. i wouldn’t wish my pain upon anyone else though- as much as i want someone to experience my own sensations so that they can testify to my suffering, prove that i’m not losing my mind… it is my burden to bear. i would lobotomize myself in an instant if it meant never feeling the agony again, but unfortunately, tomorrow holds another wave of pain. all i can do is brace for impact

it’s like these when i feel the most useless. usually, leading up to the climax of the headache i start to lose feeling in my arms and face and something snaps in my brain. my right eye leaks. my right eyelid droops. my right nostril runs. and then comes the inability to communicate, the inability to even think in straight sentences to myself. i tilt my head all weird (i think it’s a subconscious attempt at willing the blood away from the pressure?), i push my face into the nearest form cushion with as much force as i can, and all i can do is scream while it feels like someone bores into my eye with an ice pick.

anyways.

it’s hard trying to be a normal human in the times the headaches aren’t actively occurring. i’m constantly letting myself and my friends and my work down in order to rest and attempt to recover each day before the pain returns. i feel like im losing myself again. i just want it to go away

e

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

and i put a minific in the tags of the post which is relevant to what's about to happen so here ya go

kate and roy may start planning a wedding that they will NOT invite clint and ollie to#SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT#kate and roy dealing with the ultimate betrayal#jason: guys you may want to rethink this plan#roy and kate cake testing: how could this possibly go wrong?#its all fun and games until the planet starts reporting on it#at which point its easier to get married and do a quickie divorce#roy: so so so cool cool cool so lian thinks we're getting married for real#kate: oohhhhhhh noooooo#jason: wow if only someone had told you this was a bad idea#kate: well we could stay married for a while and get divorced in like a year#kate six years later: roy did we forget to do something?#roy making their anniversary dinner: nope can't think of anything

@tawghasa said

BESTIE Omg???? Can I see your "forgot they got married until they go to get married for real" and raise you "forgot they got married until they go to get married for real TO EACH OTHER" !?!?!?

Clint's like ok. Gotta bite the bullet and tell Katie-Kate about me and Ollie. Brace for impact. I know how she feels about him.

Clint: Hey so Oliver and I. Are going to get married.

Kate: oh like a vow renewal?

Clint : no like regular married

Clint: you have to have vows in order to renew them weirdo

Kate: lmao I idc if you lie to Stark or whatever so he gets you a cooler present but u don't have to lie to me

Clint: Katie wtf are you talking about

Kate: you don't get to gaslight me

Clint: KATE WTFFFF ARE YPU TALKING ABOUT

Kate: [image attached; it's a picture of Clint and Oliver with an Elvis impersonator and a marriage license] you guys literally got married and didn't invite me or Roy why did you think he and I got married?!?!

Clint: because you LOVE EACH OTHER? TAX REASONS???? NOT THAT????

Kate: Clint are you fucking serious right now

Kate: Clint you had better be fucking with me

Clint: Kate is that picture real oh my god KATE

It's important to know that Oliver has texted Roy and is like "clearly I have more functional friendships" and the only reason Roy hasn't gotten back to him is because it is Pedicure Day, and Roy is painting Kate's toenails while the polish dries on Lian's. So Kate is trying to REMAIN CALM but Roy could you check your phone? Could you talk to Ollie and see if Clint is just being a complete a-hole?

Which is when Ollie CONFIRMS that no, he and Clint sure didn't realize they got married! Or that ROY AND KATE GOT MARRIED AS AN ELABORATE REVENGE PLOT??? YOU'VE BEEN MARRIED FOR FOUR YEARS??? ROY??????

And Kate and Roy are PIs so they're like frantically digging through emails and papers "I have a contact who is an Elvis impersonator, they work some chapels!?!" "I think I know someone in the records office?!?!?!" "HOW DID THEY NOT FUCKING KNOW?!?!?!" (Lian: no swearing)

Clint: omg is that why you kept saying all that weird shit about being left out and how did I like not knowing anything until the last minute????

Clint: IM SORRY YOU GOT MARRIED TO DUNK ON ME????

Clint: WHY ARE YOU STILL MARRIED????

Kate: well at first we forgot and then we realized we actually were kind of in love with each other SHUT UP IM NOT TAKING SHIT FROM A MAN WHO IS GETTING READY TO REMARRY HIS OWN HUSBAND BECAUSE HE FORGOT THEY WERE ALREADY MARRIED

Kate: Clint we can never tell anyone about this ever

Clint: too late Barry overheard me and ollie talking

Jason swings by Roy and Kate's. He's having the GREATEST day. He got to be there when Dick found out that Roy is happily married because of a drunken bender that WASN'T EVEN HIS. This is the DUMBEST thing Jason has ever witnessed and it's added at least five years to his life.

Jason: you are all idiots

Roy: watch it pal, keep talking like that and you'll wind up IN this marriage

Jason: that is absolutely not the threat you think it is

Kate, in an aside to Roy: are we, like. Positive he's not already married to us?

Oliver Queen marries Clint Barton. For real? For a mission? On a drunken bender in Vegas? Doesn't matter. The point is, they do not inform Kate or Roy who are LIVID.

[jubiilee13]

anything to do with DreamXD please! <3

Dream XD my beloved <3

im using 2 prompts bc they kinda all fall into the same idea

“I won’t hurt you.”

"Just take my hand.”

THIS ONE IS KINDA CRAP SORRY IDK WHY I DONT LIKE IT BUT I HOPE U DO <3

THE END WAS KINDA RUSHED BC I HAVE TO FINISH IT SO I CAN GO SEE THE MINIONS MOVIE 😭😭

TW: blood, cursing I think, injuries 

—

Mining was never fun to say the least, which is why you had planned for this trip to be short and sweet.

It was the opposite of that.

So now you stood, frozen in place by fear as you watched the mobs slowly start to creep towards you.

You sucked in a breath, holding your stone pickaxe which was the closest thing you had to a weapon tighter as the mobs grew much closer.

You wished you could run, build, just do anything to get away.

But you couldn't. So you stood your ground, and prepared yourself for a fight.

Normally fights like these weren’t a big deal, but you had left all your armor, weapons, and potions at home. It was a risky decision, and now you severely regretted it. You took the limited time you had to attempt to make a plan within your mind.

Your planning was quickly interrupted however by a sharp pain in your side and the feeling of warmth seeping down the side of your body.

You glanced down as blood slowly began to seep out of your wound, an arrow stuck directly in the middle. You winced, but moved your attention away from the burning pain in your side.

Your eyes skimmed over the mix of mobs, and you charged towards them, bringing your pickaxe down onto a zombies head, watching as he slowly withered out of existence.

That one was easy enough, but you knew the others wouldn't be the same.

You drew your pickaxe above your head as the other mobs continued to march towards you.

You managed to fight off the first few, but you were quickly cornered by the remaining few.

Your pickaxe was just hits away from its breaking point and you knew it.

There was no point in fighting them anymore. You put away your pickaxe and raised your arms in surrender, squeezing your eyes shut as you braced for the impact.

You stood, expecting excruciating pain to flood your body, but it never came.

You slowly opened your eyes, to find a masked face staring back at you. The mobs that once surrounded you stood frozen in place, eyes wide. You brought your eyes away from the mobs and back towards the masked thing in front of you.

Even though his face was shielded you could tell his eyes were on you.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you finally broke it.

"Are you here to finish me off?" You say weakly as you bring your hands to grip your wound.

"I wont hurt you" the being states, his voice raspy and rough.

You pause, taking in his words before asking, "Who are you?"

"I am DreamXD" He says as he extends his hand.

You crane your neck up to look at his face.

'XD' was engraved on the white circular mask that seemingly hovered over his face.

"Im kind of trying NOT to bleed out here so my hands are a little preoccupied" You state, slight annoyance in your tone.

“Just take my hand” he states, a bit of aggressiveness evident in his voice.

You hesitate, looking away from the deity’s face and towards his hand.

You slowly reach out your hand and place it in his own, a strange sense of warmth overtaking your body.

It was comfortable… calming to say the least. And you let the sense of warmth overtake you as your eyelids become increasingly heavier.

You tried to fight it, you really did but soon enough your eyelids slowly began to shut, the sense of warmth still remaining as everything faded out to black.

You werent exactly sure what happened next but just as quickly has your eyes had closed, they had opened once again, a blinding light pulling you out of your peaceful slumber.

You squinted, rubbing your eyes as you sat up from you were laying, scanning your surroundings, panic flooding your mind.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness of the room, only for you to find that it was your own.

You sat in place, confused as you continued to scan over your surroundings. You were home... but how?

A confused look made its way onto your face as you slowly stood up from your bed, only to be startled by a familiar voice.

"Lay back down y/n" He calls from your doorway, earning a surprised yelp out of you.

"How? what? where? what the fuck is going on-" You rambled as you set yourself back down on the bed.

"Calm down y/n." He says as he takes a few steps towards you.

This was the same god like being from earlier only now he took to form of a human, still dressed in luxurious clothing of course, but now you had the chance to look the god in the eyes.

His face was very similar to dreams, yet it had its own magical essence.

His bright green eyes stared into your own as he took a seat on the bed beside you.

You couldn't seem to explain why, but just being in the presence of this man made your heart flutter within your chest.

"I feel like i didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself... im DreamXD... god of the smp. Now normally i am told not to interfere with mere mortals like you, but you were... different." He says, as he takes a seat beside you on the bed.

“How so?” You question curiously.

“See that’s the thing… I’m not exactly sure” he says, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.

“All I know is what happened last night was never supposed to happen, and I couldn’t just watch you die so I did what I had to do” he explains as he turns to face you.

“You y/n… there’s something different about you, I can feel it. I’m not sure what, but you have something nobody else in the smp has. Why? I don’t know, but spend your time wisely y/n… you never know what could happen next.” He states, and you nod, still trying to process the information you had just been given.

“I must get going now y/n, it was a pleasure to meet you” he says as he rises from his seat.

“I um… pleasure to meet you too?” You say, still in a state of awe after his speech.

“Goodbye y/n… take care” he says with a small smile, before simply disappearing before your eyes.

You sat still for a few moments more, staring where he once stood.

Let’s just say you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you had an encounter with the beautiful godlike being.

—

A/n: JEKSKWKDKWKD SORRY IF THIS SUCKS DONT HATE ME <3

[clareguilty]

Soldier 76/reader, praise kink, only one bed

hello! here is prompt #6 for this year’s kinktober!

Soldier 76/fem!reader | praise kink, power imbalance, idiots pining Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~2300 (look... im going to get all of these out before the end of the month they aren’t supposed to be this long)

You burst out of the heavy door with your guns drawn, blinking in the bright sun as you pressed your back to the nearest wall. Jack was right behind you, scanning the lot before both of you made a break across the asphalt.

“There!” you point. A tac vehicle was parked near plenty of cover, the perfect getaway.

Another door opened and Talon soldiers poured out, taking aim at where you and Jack were crouched behind tarped crates. “I’ll cover you,” he barked.

At the sound of the pulse rifle, you sprinted to the truck. You dove into the driver's side, ripping off the panel over the ignition console and jamming your override stick into the maintenance port.

The engine roared to life at the press of a button. You glanced up to see Jack already running for the passenger side door. The second the door slammed behind him you floored the acceleration in reverse.

“You shoot, I’ll drive,” you called. He had no complaints, standing on the seat so he could aim over the top of the truck, braced on the roll cage. You threw the gear shift in drive and gripped the steering wheel as you headed straight for the chain-link gates. “Hold on!” You had only a few seconds to try and buckle the safety harness before impact.

The truck smashed through the gates, crumpling the metal with a deafening sound. You narrowly avoided getting splattered against the inside of the windshield. Jack seemed just fine -- you had learned early on that super soldiers could survive nearly anything -- so you continued accelerating down the narrow drive.

For a moment, everything seemed fine. Then you heard the sound of Jack’s pulse rifle firing and the roar of engines approaching from behind. Motorbikes.

The mountain pass was winding and narrow, alternating between dangerous curves that dropped off to the forest below and craggy rifts and tunnels cut directly into the stone with barely enough room for the truck to squeeze through. You sped along the treacherous road, keeping an eye on the rearview mirrors as the bikers tried to keep up.

Jack picked them off easily enough. Eventually, they would have to run out of bikes to send.

Trouble came when you reached the base of the mountain. The road gave out into a straightaway, and another troop of Talon soldiers had blockaded the road. You pulled a grenade off your belt and pressed it into Jack’s leg. He grabbed it, lobbing it into the wall of vehicles and ducking down into the seat.

The explosion wasn’t enough to clear the vehicles, but it did take out the Talon soldiers that were waiting with rifles and rocket launchers. Jack noticed you weren’t slowing down and braced himself for another collision.

The truck plowed through the flaming wreckage with a painful scrape of metal on metal, but you made it through the blockade and out onto the straightaway.

“We’re going to need a different car,” you said. “Where are we headed?”

Jack pointed west. “I know of a safe house out in the farm country. It’s off the grid and just a few hours out.”

You nodded and kept driving.

-

When you finally pulled up to the safehouse, you were exhausted and sore from the drive. Jack grabbed both your packs and hunched over the panel by the door while you stretched your legs and locked up the newly stolen civilian car.

The safe house was small. One room, with a concrete stoop and small, high windows. It was nestled into the side of a dry creek bed out on some long-abandoned ranch property a hundred miles from nowhere.

“How the hell do you know about this place?” you asked, glancing around the endless dried grasslands.

“Used to be entire military base a few miles out. SEP had classified training grounds out here during the crisis. This building must have been here before then because it got left behind when they erased everything.”

“There was a whole military base out here just a few years ago and now there’s no trace of its existence?” You squinted at the horizon, trying to see any signs of low buildings or structures of any kind.

Jack shrugged. “They really know how to clean up when they want to hide something. Get inside.” He waved you into the tiny, dark shed.

Despite looking like pre-crisis ruins, the safehouse had a bunk, a gas stove, two large metal cabinets with padlocks. The outside light did little for visibility but exposed how thoroughly dusty the room was. There was a low table and two stools and literally nothing else.

Jack smashed the padlocks with his pulse rifle and you watched with raised eyebrows. You were starting to think this wasn’t his safehouse.

The first cabinet swung open to reveal shotguns. Lots of shotguns. As well as ammunition, explosives, sidearms, and some biotics. The second cabinet was well stocked with food, water, first aid, and some old tech.

“You use that many shotguns?” You leaned against the dusty table with a smirk.

Jack was still wearing his visor, so you couldn’t see his expression when he turned to you. “I haven’t been out here in years,” he said as a nonanswer.

Though you were a little worried about whoever it was that stashed their large collection of identical shotguns out here, you trusted Jack enough that if he felt safe here then you wouldn’t put up a fight.

“What are we going to do with the stuff we got from Talon? I’m assuming you’ve got a plan.”

“You,” he took a step forward, crowding you against the table. His pulse rifle thudded loudly on the metal, “are going to do nothing. And stop asking questions.”

You nodded. Those were the conditions of your arrangement. You kept quiet and obeyed orders. He saved the world. You got to help. You believed in him enough to let him lead you somewhat blindly.

He was towering over you, practically leaning you back over the table behind you. “That was some good driving out there today. Thanks for getting us out of there.”

“Thanks,” you looked anywhere but his visor. Did he know? Was he trying to scare you or turn you on? Surely he had picked up on your little hero worship schtick, the way you would do anything for praise. Hell, who else was stupid enough to trek all over the world with a vigilante soldier on some suicide mission to take down an international terrorist organization? He was always doing this, getting into your space, teasing you. It left you feeling useless and stupid and frustrated.

He backed off and you finally were able to breathe again.

The next few hours were routine, a system you and Jack had streamlined over your weeks together. Organize and repack your gear, clean your weapons, refill your kits. You ate and washed up and dressed down all before the sun had even disappeared beneath the horizon.

“I can take first watch,” you offered.

Jack laughed. “Even in my sleep, I would hear anything coming before you could see it.” He was sitting on the bunk, glaring at a datapad as he usually did in the evenings. You caught a glimpse of a satellite image, but you couldn’t make out a specific location.

He was right. Fucking super-soldier. You wrinkled your nose and rolled your eyes. Grabbing your bedroll, you began pushing the table against the cabinets to make space to sleep.

“I promise the bunk is actually comfortable.” You glanced to Jack.

He shrugged and patted the mattress next to him.

It wasn’t a particularly large bed, but you and Jack had definitely had to sleep in closer quarters before. Still, this felt like some kind of joke. Like he was mocking you. You probably wouldn’t sleep at all, just spend the entire night agonizing over how close you were to Jack.

You gave a shrug of your own and stowed your bedroll away, climbing onto the other side of the bed and worming your way under the blanket. Jack continued to glare at his datapad.

And you couldn’t sleep. Not when he was awake next to you. You knew he could probably hear your racing heart, but the silent agreement seemed to be that you would pretend to be asleep and he would ignore whatever crisis you were having not even six inches from him.

Until he finally turned off the datapad. The glow of the screen disappeared and you felt Jack shift beside you.

Your entire body tensed when he slung an arm around your waist, curling against your back so that your bodies slotted together perfectly. He noticed pretty quickly that you couldn’t relax.

“Are you okay?” he asked, right against your ear. Voice low and breath hot against your skin. You shuddered but didn’t pull away from him. Your words were caught in your throat.

“Hey?” he rolled you onto your back and pushed up so he was looming over you, caging you beneath him. “What’s up?” His expression was worried, searching your face as you blinked up at him in shock and confusion.

You stumbled over words, unsure what to even say.

“You’ve been tense,” he cupped your face in his palm. “I’m worried.”

“You keep touching me,” you hissed. “It’s weirding me out.”

He pulled away, putting as much space as he could between you in half a second. You instantly regretted saying anything. You wanted his warmth back, wanted him to hold you again.

“Wait no, come back.” You reached for him.

He scooted closer, watching you warily. “What’s going on?”

“What is going on?” you repeated. “The cuddling and the touching and everything? What’s this about?”

Jack looked almost offended, but mostly just confused. He started to reach for you again but stopped himself. You slowly reached for his hand, gently tugging until he laid back down just like before. You were still tense as he pulled you back against his chest.

It took a few minutes for you to completely relax, but you finally managed to sink into Jack’s embrace. “Mmm,” you hummed.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, but you were already drifting off to sleep.

-

It was strange, waking up with Jack curled against your back, feet tangled together. You shifted slightly, eyes widening when you realized he was hard. His breathing was slow, but you knew he was a light sleeper.

You shifted again -- just out of curiosity -- and squeaked in surprise when Jack grabbed your hips to hold you still.

“You trying to get in trouble?” he growled, voice low and thick with sleep.

You shuddered and shook your head. “No, sir.” This felt like a dream. What was happening?

“Hm,” Jack hummed, grinding against you. “Shame.”

“What happens if I get in trouble?” you asked.

He rolled and pinned you beneath him, lining up so he could grind his dick against your ass. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson.” He kissed the back of your neck, over your shoulder and up to the shell of your ear.

You couldn’t help it, you pressed back against him. This was all you had wanted for so long. Now that you had a chance you weren’t going to give it up. “Please,” you whined.

“Yeah?” Jack yanked your pants down over your ass, squeezing and grinding against you. “You want that?” He pulled his shirt off, pulling his pants open and you heard him moan as he freed his cock. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

He slipped a hand between your thighs, surprised at how turned on you already were. “You’re so wet for me already? Such a good girl.”

You wanted him so bad. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to stretch you open on his fingers and have you gasping and begging for him. You bit down on your arm to muffle yourself when he pressed his cock into you.

“You feel so good,” he said, kissing between your shoulder blades.

His thrusts were clumsy at first, overwhelmed by the sensation and trying to find the right rhythm, but he quickly figured out exactly how to have you moaning beneath him.

“I love the way you sound- wanted this for so long.”

His words took you by surprise. Jack wanted you? You hadn’t realized. But there wasn’t time to dwell when he was fucking you so hard and so deep. It felt so good, and you lost yourself in the feeling. His cock hit just the right spot on every slide and he was so warm and strong behind you.

“Wait-” he forced himself to stop for a moment. “I want to see you.” He turned you around so you were on your back looking up at him. You were both breathless, eyes dark and glassy with pleasure. He leaned in to kiss you and you pulled him in, nails scraping through the short-cropped hair at the nape of his neck.

He lined back up and pressed inside you again. This time, he stroked your clit while he was fucking you, and you came almost immediately. “Fuck,” he growled, not far behind.

He shuddered through his own orgasm, gripping the metal frame of the bunk so hard you heard the metal creak as you kissed along his neck and jaw. You couldn’t find it in you to pull away, wrapping your arms around his chest to keep him from getting up. This all felt very out of nowhere to you, and you should probably talk about what was going on between you.

But it had always been easier to just avoid those conversations. Maybe Jack would want to fuck again, maybe it would never come up. You weren’t winning any awards for emotional honesty or vulnerability -- you were a criminal.

It was nice like this, in the aftermath of a good fuck, just enjoying the stillness and the silence. You could pretend that you had everything you wanted.

[baroquebucky]

touch

soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate you see glimpses of your future with them; the winter soldier touches you and realizes there’s so much more out there

series masterlist // next

part one

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope u all enjoy this !! i am a sucker for soulmate au’s <3 let me know what u guys think and if u guys want a part 2 !!!

Bucky awoke to the sound of the guards unlocking the door, the metal creaking as Alexander Pierce walked in, waving the guards off to leave the two alone.

“you have another mission today” the man spoke smoothly, bucky getting up from his small bed and staring at the man infront of him, “you need to finish this before it gets out of hand” pierce spoke, eyeing the soldier as he stared blankly ahead.

“Do you understand?” He questioned, bucky looked at him, nodding his head silently as the guards took him out, taking him to get ready for his mission.

He had stopped resisting, he had nothing left, he couldn’t remember much and he had no idea who he even was. Bucky followed the motions, suiting up and grabbing his weapons alongside the other HYDRA agents.

You frowned at steve and natasha, grumbling to yourself as Sam let you into the house.

“im y/n, sorry about these two” you smiled at the man, extending your hand out and turning to your two friends.

“thank you for coming y/n, we really need you” Steve spoke, natasha nodding in agreement as she dried her hair slowly.

“yeah, yeah everyone always needs me” you joked, sitting next to them and rubbing your eyes, “woke me up from my nap so this better be good” you spoke, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back.

Steve and natasha explained the situation, telling you what they knew about the winter soldier, you soaked in the information, attempting to google him but coming up with almost nothing.

“hm, so you want me to do what, exactly” you questioned, looking at the trio staring back at you.

“fight with us, help us, we have to stop HYDRA” Steve spoke, looking at natasha before continuing, “i don’t know who to trust and” he sighed, “we know we can trust you, are you in?”

You smiled, getting up and pulling the three in for a hug, sams eyes going wide.

“of course I’m in, i care about you guys too much to let you die alone” you chuckled, pulling away, looking at Sam before speaking up, “no ones dying by the way, right?”

The four of you were on the rooftop, getting information out of Sitwell, laughing when natasha kicked him off.

“What about that girl from accounting, Laura?” Natasha spoke, looking at Steve as he thought about the woman’s name.

“Lillian! Lip piercing right?” Natasha nodded and Steve shook his head.

“yeah I’m not ready for that” you laughed at the two lightly.

“you should get with the time have a little fun!” You teased, Natasha smiling as you sided with her, nodding her head excitedly.

As Sam brought Sitwell back you began the interrogation, threatening to throw the man off for good is he didn’t start talking. Your eyes were steely and they let you handle him, getting all the information you needed.

“i didn’t know you could be so-” sam stopped, trying to find the right words.

“evil?” Natasha offered.

“terrifying?” Steve chuckled and Sam nodded.

“Insight launched in 16 hours” you spoke up, checking your phone, Natasha nodded speaking up after you, “we’re cutting it kinda close here.”

Steve looked ahead with furrowed brows nodding his head, “well use him to bypass the DNA scans and bypass the helicarriers directly.”

Sitwell scoffed next to you, blabbering on about you something, you rolled your eyes, going to say something when someone reached through the window and threw him out, your eyes going wide.

“what the fuck!” You screeched, looking up and seeing who you assumed was the winter soldier.

Your eyes were wide as you stared out the windshield, a tug in your chest as you saw him sliding across the concrete, steadying himself with his metal arm.

Natasha pulled her gun out, aiming at the man. A car rear ended you, pushing you forward and knocking your wind out. The soldier jumped atop the car, holding on tight as the truck behind you pushed you all foward.

Sam pressed on the breaks, trying to steer away from the other cars. A metal hand reached through the windshield and tore the steering wheel out from his grasp.

“shit!” Sam yelled, eyes wide as the car drove into another, Natasha reaching her gun and shooting in hopes of hitting the masked man.

Steve grabbed onto the three in the front, looking back at you with wide eyes.

“go!” You yelled, scrambling to open the door before the car crashed into the wall.

“hang on!” Steve called, jumping out, with you bracing yourself for the impact seconds after, you flew out the door, hitting the ground with a thud.

You ran to join natasha and Sam, ducking behind cars to avoid the bullets, finally pulling out your pocket knife and hitting one of the men in the chest, running again as they shot at you three even more.

You and natasha jumped down, holding onto her as she shot something under the bridge to swing from.

The two of you landed safely, you pointed to the shadow of the solider, running alongside her to shoot at the man.

You both aimed and fired, hitting his giggled and causing him to turn back. You let out a sigh, hoping they would give you a minute to recover. You both ran for cover as he leaned back over, machine gun in hand and shooting wildly.

“fucks sake” you let out, breathless as you aimed to shoot back at him, running for cover once again, hiding behind the parked cars. Your eyes focusing on the bus steve had fallen into, relief flooding your body when you saw him jumping out and hiding behind the shield safely, eyes moving to the highway and seeing Sam shooting from above.

“I’m gonna leave this recording here, ill sneak up behind him and then you try and get him, we can double team him” Natasha spoke, you nodded, letting her record the memo before setting it down and running.

Your heart raced as you saw the soldier approach the vehicle, waiting for the right moment to strike. As Natasha ran to tackle him from behind you noticed the amount of people still around you, the explosion next to you sending people flying.

“shit” you mumbled, running to help them as Natasha held her own.

“get out of the way! Run! Get out of here” you yelled, pointing at those in frenzy to run in the opposite direction, you glanced over your shoulder, Natasha being thrown into a car.

As you turned to help her you noticed a little girl crying, alone. You debated for a second before running up to her, taking her in your arms and handing her off to some random adult who was fleeing.

Natasha had messed the man arm up, joining her in her sprint as you all yelled for people to move and to take cover. You heard the whirl of a bullet and natasha groan, doubling over next to a car.

“take of her!” Steve yelled, holding off the soldier. You let eyes were wide, putting pressure on Natasha wound and looking around.

“you’re gonna be fine” you told her, looking into the car and breaking the window with your elbow, opening the compartment in the passengers seat and smiling when you found a first aid kit.

“come on” you mumbled, moving her gently and cleaning the wound, doing your best with what little you had. You tried to bandage her, the sound of the bullets hitting Steve’s shield making your hands shake.

“go help them, I’ll be fine” Natasha groaned out, you hesitated before nodding, running to where Steve was.

You hid behind a car, watching as he shoved a knife into a van, barely missing Steve’s head.

You jumped from behind the car as Steve reached to grab his shield, hitting the metal armed man, you used your body weight to twist him back.

Visions flashed in your eyes, quick flashes of a man with a charming smile and beautiful blue eyes. The sound of laughter echoing in your ears as the mask fell besides you. You saw the two of you cuddled up on a couch, you saw two two of you watching a sunset while on a picnic, giggles falling from your mouth.

Bucky saw it too, his mind flashing with pictures of a life he didn’t recognize, seeing you, his mission in them. He saw you cuddled at his side, he saw you on a stage together singing with lyrics on a screen, he saw the two of you rescuing a white cat from the rain. Bucky saw you holding out a present for him, a bright smile on you face, he saw you throwing flour at him in a kitchen, cookies baking in an over.

He stayed on the ground, memories who he used to be flooding his mind, hope of who he could become clouding his judgement.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked up at you, standing in front of Steve with an equally shocked look on your face.

“it’s you” you breathed out, your heart tugging in your chest as your eyes met his blue ones, they were cloudy and they were broken but god, you already loved them.

“it’s you” he whispered. A year rolling down his face before HYDRA agents surrounded you all.

“Bucky?” Steve spoke, finally getting a good look at the man.

The super soldier stayed quiet, panic in his eyes and he looked at you, setting his weapon down. You made a move to run to him, but Sam flew in, knocking him feet away from you, Natasha soon launching a grenade.

“no!” You screamed, running to where he was. He was gone.

“No! Please i just found him no!” You cried, sinking to you knees, Sam ran over to you, holding you tightly as you sobbed, agents surrounding the four of you and telling you all to get down on your knees.

You sobbed into sams chest, only leaving his embrace when the agents ripped you from him.

Buckys eyes were wide as he sat in the chair, his heart racing as he recalled your face, your hair. He recalled the flashes he saw, his future with you.

He had something to hold onto, he had something to fight for, someone to survive for. He thought about the man who was next to you, he was familiar, he was in his old memories.

Buckys mind raced, knowing they would wipe his memories, he soaked in every last detail, praying he could hold onto to what he had after they wiped him.

He could hold onto you, his hope.

[pinkchanelbag]

what we want. [e. jaegar]

in order to bus to the ball tournament, you, the team manager, have to stay the night at the house of the startup point guard and your best friend, eren.

wc: 5k.

cw: NSFW 18+, female bodied reader, not proofread.

note: this is so LONG IM SO SORRY im literally incapable of pnp. but enjoy hehe.

“get down,” eren murmured into your ear. 

you barely heard him above connie and marco’s obnoxious singing, but you did hear him. looking up into his face, you could see he was serious and that his eyes were staring out of the car window and at something. when you followed his gaze, you spotted the cop car, and quickly pushed yourself further down into eren’s lap, grunting with the effort. 

“connie, shut up!” armin said from his seat beside you with jean on his opposite side. the poor guy got stuck with the middle seat, between the two tallest players on the team, no less. not to mention the entire body eren carried on his lap. 

from the front seat, connie halted his wailing of party in the usa to whip his head back with an offended glare, but when he noticed armin and eren’s attention towards, there he saw it, a cop car, he murmured an oh shit and slapped marco’s shoulder. the power forward stopped singing himself and quickly took the hint. the car was quiet for a few moments as you uncomfortably curled your upper body downwards. your face was close to eren’s knees and your lower half was pressing into your friend’s in a way that was hard for either of you to ignore. you groaned at the position, calling out to your friends. 

“next time, jean takes someone’s lap.” 

“why me!?” he exclaimed. “it should be connie, he’s the shortest.”

“HEY,” connie yelled. “it’s my car. unless you shits plan on walking to the tournament, what i say goes.” it didn’t take long for the members of the starting lineup to break out into a petty argument over who should sit on whose lap, but you still sat crouched into eren’s lap, huffing with annoyance. you knew it was a stupid idea to try to fit all six of you in the car, especially during rush hour when police had a special eye out. 

“you’re good now,” eren chuckled. you unfolded yourself and hit him on the arm. 

“don’t laugh,” you said. he didn’t, but he continued to smile for a few moments. that was, until you started rolling your head to the left and right to stretch out your neck. 

“fucking hell,” you groaned, oblivious to the way eren’s eyes lined the columns of your throat. 

“yeah...we definitely can’t do this again...” he laughed. you looked back at him with an amused smile, and he knew you understood his meaning. well, it had been many years since you were anything but brazen around eren. 

“you guys are gross,” armin stated with a raised brow. you simply stuck your tongue out at him. just then, the car hit an especially sharp bump in the road that a) practically bounced you on eren’s lap and b) elicited a sharp sound from the trunk. eren grunted at the impact of you landing back on his lap. you braced yourselves against his thighs.

“connie!” you shouted. “you’re gonna break my perfume bottle, you asswipe!”

“you broke my dick,” eren squeaked. 

“how is a road bump my fault!? i hate you guys, i’m never driving you again!” the small guard in the driver’s seat started. “and it’s not my fault you live across the fucking city, y/n!” 

you simply huffed at that, because there was little you could say. the bus would come house to house to pick you all up for the basketball tournament early tomorrow morning, and your house was so ridiculously far from the school that it would disrupt the entire trip schedule to go out of the way picking you up. you volunteered to spare the additional expenses and time and just not come, but the team had insisted that they needed their manager there. so the solution had been to stay at the home of one of the players, and it wasn’t exactly a tough decision, seeing as the startup point guard, the boy whose genitals you just smushed, has been your best friend since your first day of university. 

“sorry,” you mumbled to him, but he shook his head to dismiss it. you realized that as you had clutched his thighs for support, he had sunk his hands into the plush of your outer thighs near your hips to brace himself against the pain. the hairs that fell from his bun tickled your ear as your bodies leaned over, and when he spoke you could hear it ridiculously close.

“little gentler next time?” he murmured. you felt goosebumps rise on your arms at the implication, at next time, but you simply dismissed him with a shh. 

it wasn’t always like this, that was true. you and eren truly were friends, and had built that friendship based on mutual struggle through your first year as university students. but you supposed that the two of you had gotten closer in the second semester last year, when the weather was kinder and you had more classes together and more free time. more friends, more comfortable spaces and knowing your way around. and throughout the summer, you had spent many days together, along with your combined friend group, and you and eren had always been especially connected. you were best friends, probably. you’d never cared enough to think about it. 

“okay, get out.” connie turned over to look into the back, in particular at you and eren. he’d skidded to a stop in front of eren’s mother’s house. quite a few members of the basketball team had already lived in the city prior to getting into university, so made no use of the student residence when they had homes of their own already. lucky for you, eren was one of those people. you didn’t think you’d be able to last the night in a boy’s tiny dorm. 

after pulling your luggage and eren’s gym bag out the trunk, heeding jean’s don’t you dare be late threats and bidding goodbye to the exhausting starting lineup, you and eren finally made your way into the house.

for all the time you’d spent together in the last year and a half, you’d never been to eren’s house. because of how far you lived, you often spent the night in your friend sasha’s dorm for the night, so there was never reason to stay at anyone’s home but hers and your own. this was your first year as basketball team manager. it was also your first tournament, and as exciting as it was, you were too exhausted from the week to care at the moment.

after practically wrestling your tiny suitcase from your hands, eren nodded in the direction of a staircase.

“mom’s not home right now. c’mon,” he said, bag in each hand. his shoulder blades bulged sharply through the fabric of his team t-shirt at the effort of going up the stairs with the weight. you hardly noticed the way your eyes rested on the sight as you followed him up.

“um...hope you don’t plan on putting me in the same bed as you,” you said, arriving to the top of the stairs. eren threw his gym bag down one direction of the landing where you saw an open door to what looked like a laundry room. eren let out an amused heh under his breath.

“nah, don’t worry. you’ll sleep on the floor.”

you smacked his back lightly as you followed him into his bedroom. he only laughed again, putting down your suitcase and straightening up as you stepped aside from behind him to take a look at the room.

“oh, you are such a boy,” were the first words out of your mouth. eren gave you a look, but you only giggled and did a 360 of the room. pale blue walls lined with occasional sports posters. on one side, a wall closet with its door closed and an overflowing laundry hamper standing nearby. an unmade twin bed with a textbook teetering at the end of it, a tv, playstation, and overflowing bookshelf set up against the wall that had the door, and a window staring back opposite you with a view of the cul-de-sac. when stated in those terms, it might’ve sounded like eren was rich or close to it, but really it wasn’t as simple as that. it was actually quite a small bedroom, in a neighborhood of mostly one-storey houses filled with diverse families. you knew from what eren had told you in the past that he started out playing basketball with kids in the area, one of whom had a net set up in his driveway. years later, eren was able to go to college on a partial sports scholarship. 

“i’ve had this room since i was eight,” eren huffed. you giggled and continued to look around with shuffled, timid steps. on the other hand, eren stepped into the room and laid down on his bed. he upper body and thighs rested on the mattress, his knees bent and feet still touching the ground. he brought his hands to his head and let out a groan of exhaustion. practice had been especially gruelling all week to prepare for the tournament.

“have i mentioned that you stink?” you told him, still standing near the door.

“about a hundred times. i’ll shower in a bit.” he brought his hands away from his face and instead clasped them behind his head to look at you. “you can come in, you know.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “actually, this room is kinda cute. i’ve never had a home i stayed in for so long.” you turned to look at the bookshelf, which of course had few books in it. instead it had shoeboxes, old baseball gloves, some framed pictures, and years’ worth of tokens and trinkets of eren’s life. “can i look through all your shit?” you turned to him and asked with a purposely too-bright smile. eren chuckled and gestured in a manner that said have at it, and so you began poking at the memories along the shelf. you were careful not to step on the tip of eren’s feet (again, the room wasn’t exactly big) as you glanced along the wall at the sports trophies and posters. it was a strange thing how you could see these naked glimpses into eren’s life. it was a rather casual kind of intimacy, you thought. it made you smile, being able to be closer to eren. you figured there’d been lots of girls in this room, but you got an almost childish satisfaction at knowing that while they got one busy night, you’d gotten, and would continue to get, the intimacies from eren that allowed you to see the boy for who he really was, and that made you equally special to him. 

it was also strange how you couldn’t really know the way eren’s eyes followed your figure as you shifted in a semi circle through the room. you stopped halfway along your route, looking at the closet and then turning to meet eren’s gaze, asking permission. eren nodded his consent, and you opened the closet, giggling at the way he’d no doubt shoved a few stray things in the room into it in anticipation of your arrival.

“shut up,” he said, but there was no push in his voice. he propped himself up on his elbow and lulled his head over one shoulder to look at where you stood at his side. he wasn’t exactly conscious of it, but he found some comfort and enjoyment in watching you walk and move, watching your torso twist and your hips and legs sway idly. it was the same with your face, how he watched it almost as a default rest stop for his eyes. he liked watching the muscles of your existence move to animate you. 

of course, jean would just call it staring at your ass. 

“i’m gonna go shower,” eren finally said after having his moment of rest. he heaved himself off the bed and grabbed a towel from the hook behind the door. 

“can i get changed in here?” you asked, fingers scratching your jeans. 

“go for it,” and then he was off, just barely missing the little oooh you made at finding a hoodie of eren’s in the closet that you’d always particularly liked on him. 

in the shower, eren let the water run over his back muscles. he leaned against the wall and sighed, and found that there was a content smile on his face. he was excited for this night. being around you was fun. not just fun like entertaining, but genuinely giddy. he always looked forward to when it was just the two of you. even more so considering the way the two of you had been subconsciously pushing the boundary of physical touch between friends. tonight, he looked forward to being able to pull you against him as you watched a movie or have you braid his hair, or something. he liked being close to you in a way that was different than any other girls. he didn’t pay it much mind. 

he was done his shower before long, stalking into the hall and towards his bedroom with his towel wrapped around his torso. he figured he’d grab some clean clothes and go back to the bathroom to change. when he pushed the ajar door, his jaw hung open at seeing you crouched quite close to where he stood, where he had dropped your suitcase that you now rummaged through. you looked up at him, and for both parties, the angle was nothing short of lewd. you peered up at eren in nothing but his towel and chain, hair down and wet, drops of water dotting his toned stomach and arms. if he had stepped a foot closer, you’d surely be able to see right up the towel. meanwhile, eren looked down at you kneeled by his feet, and didn’t miss that you had changed into a hoodie and sleep shorts. his hoodie. 

“that’s mine,” he said dumbly. you lifted yourself up slowly so as not to lean forward any closer to him. 

“yeah,” you replied, and your tone was nervous, which was a first despite your not so occasional suggestive circumstances with the boy. “where are your clothes?” 

the two of you stood close but not too close, and far but not quite that far. it felt weirdly like a confrontation, like there was something you were supposed to say to each other. 

“there,” eren said, nodding at the closet. he cleared his throat and side-stepped you. his hand grazed your waist as he passed, and you felt your breath hitch. what the hell?

you didn’t really process it, but rather just turned around to absently watch him. but when you saw the way his shoulder blades flexed as he reached into the shelves of the closet, you had to manually suck in a breath. 

meanwhile, eren could practically feel his fingers itch at the way you’d look with legs bare and the zipper of his hoodie nicely revealing your collarbone. in an instant, he was struck with the panic of popping a boner right then and there. when he turned to leave, he had to hold back a groan at the way you just stood there. 

“i’m gonna go change in the, uh...” he said, stepping forward once again to leave the room, once again needing to go around you. this time, however, he moved slower because he couldn’t help but look at you. it took all his willpower not to drag his eyes up and down your figure. he managed to simply stare at the exposed skin at your sternum. 

“mmhm,” you hummed, but now neither of you moved. after a few moments, eren spoke again.

“why you wearing that?” it was a casual question, so why was his gaze so intense? 

“oh, uh,” you breathed a nervous laugh. “i just always liked this. liked how it looked on you, plus it’s comfy...” 

“looks better on you.” you bunched the fabric in your hands nervously, but that only accentuated where your thighs and hips curved together, and eren gulped, inching closer. “looks good.” 

you looked away from his stare, but found that your vision was consumed mostly by his unbearable chest. the towel he held, along with clothes bunched in his fingers, did little to hide the v-shaped path leading to--

“can you put a shirt on?” you asked, poking his hard stomach. your voice wasn’t as joking as you’d hoped it would be, but still eren laughed. 

“problem?” he asked. before you could retrieve the finger, he grabbed it in his free hand, and you were breathing manually again. and this time, his gaze was too much not to meet. and it said what you both were thinking. in fact, it was so obvious that two conversations seemed to exist: the verbal one, and the one between your eyes, the latter being the more forthcoming. you stood there for a few moments more. eren’s hand shifted to clasp your four fingers. 

“you okay?” he asked. he wasn’t sure what he intended with the question, but he wanted to know the answer anyway. 

“um...yeah.” and it was true. you’d never actually felt uncomfortable around eren. “...just nervous.” 

eren smiled softly. 

“me too.” 

he pulled you into him by your hand to collide his lips with yours. 

once the hand is free, you plant both of them on the tops of his bare shoulders, and his skin is so warm that it lights fire in your stomach. his one hand rests on the place above your waist and under your arm before sliding to the centre of your back to pull you as close as he can without letting go of his towel. but as your bodies shifted, so did the towel, and he had to fumble with his hand to shimmy it back up his hips. he pulled away with a woah woah woah to readjust it, hand still on your waist. you met each other’s eyes, breaths short. 

“what are we doing?” he asked. not in a negative way, but rather as if he was asking for the next step. 

“i don’t know,” you said with an identical tone. “is this bad?”

“uh...i don’t think it--wait, do you mean the kiss?”

“no, no the kiss wasn’t ba-”

“yeah, good ki...good, uh-”

“i mean is this-” you gestured between you and him with your eyes. “-bad?”

“it doesn’t have to be if we don’t want it to.” 

“so...we want it?” you asked, and there was a slight nod of your head. eren grinned, his own slight nod back before taking your lips again. there was something equal parts tender and needy. it was evident in the way eren’s arm wrapped all the way around you to put his hand on your opposite hip, fingers tangled in the hem of the hoodie and scrunching it up just enough for you to feel his fingers on the skin of your waist. his head was caged between your arms, but he didn’t seem to mind. you could feel everything. his damp hair slicking your cheeks and curtaining both of your faces, the way his lips stroked yours, his chest against yours, the heat in your core. 

you were pulled out of the daze at eren’s steps backwards towards the bed, bringing you with him. now, with his back to the foot of the bed, he laughed sheepishly. you noticed he’d long dropped his change of clothes to the ground. 

“i am very naked,” he said. you burst into a giggle at which he rolled his eyes with red cheeks, and it was strange to see eren bashful over his appearance for the first time. it was endearing, intimate. 

“sit,” you told him softly. he did as you told him, with legs spread but not quite enough to reveal the towel’s contents (though the bulge in the fabric was very hard to miss). once again, his free hand came up to touch you, stroking the plush of your thigh and admiring you with impatience. 

“you’re pretty,” he said, and somehow it made your heart swell. his tone was so genuine, so identical to the way he’d tell you “your shoe’s untied,” or “i can walk you home.” his tone reiterated how you’d never once felt uncomfortable around the boy, not even now as you stood on the verge of a huge decision. it was just eren. there was no hesitation or weirdness. you couldn’t express in words how much you appreciated it, so instead you grinned and hooked you fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts, slowly sliding them down your legs. 

eren leaned back to give you room. despite wanting you to strip, he couldn’t wait it out, pulling you in by one hand and splaying it in the exact place where your back arches. he buried his nose close to your navel and you careened into him with your hands burying in his hair. “so pretty,” he murmured, exploring your skin. he squeezed at the back of your thighs, and grazed your ass, making eye contact with you for any sign of hesitation before he kneaded the fatty flash in his hand. he groaned into you, forehead on your stomach as he felt as much of you as he could. 

“eren,” you breathed. you didn’t know what you wanted of him or what you wanted to say, but he seemed to understand anyway. he pushed up the bottom of the hoodie to plant kisses just above the waistband of your black panties--he had to keep from focusing on the darkened spot at the bottom of the panties or he’d surely cum in his towel. 

you whined at the kisses and at the way they felt so much and not even close to enough all at once. his breath was hot and lips and tongue wet as they travelled up. impatiently, you unzipped the rest of the hoodie and took it from eren’s grip to let it slide off your arms. he pulled back just enough to look your black panty and bra set clad body up and down with heavy eyes. the way his mouth hung open almost primitively told you he wanted this just as much as you. 

“fuck.” the single word sent vibrations straight down to your cunt. and then he brought you in again to suck at any bit of skin he could reach. he groped at your ass more before moving to your tits, and you took the hint to unclasp your bra. it was gone in a moment, and finally, eren tugged at your hand to bring you down on his lap. he adjusted the towel so that it would cover him without needing a hand but in such a way that the slightest jostle would expose him. you straddled his thighs with a knee bent on either side of the bed, and with his other hand finally free, eren gripped both ass cheeks and pulled you in to lick a long stripe along one of your tits. you couldn’t hold back the moan, practically lurching it forward and letting it burst in his ear. he rutted up into your clothed pussy at the noise. his mouth latched around one nipple and suckled like a starving man, earning more pretty sounds from you as you gripped the hair at his scalp in the most delicious way. he switched to the other breast, hands still spreading your cheeks apart and itching so so close to where you needed him. 

“eren,” you whined. he knew. he could feel the wet spot on his own towel now. 

“mmm...talk to me,” he said into the fat of your chest. “what do you want?” he would hardly restrain himself. his dick practically ached with need, but still his utter adoration at the way your eyes screwed shut was enough to get him to take his time. “whatever you want, i’ll do it.” 

his words alone had you grinding down onto him. “need you...” you said in a too-high voice, mouth close to his ear. eren’s pace didn’t change. still there was an air of expectation. “need you inside me.” you felt him breathe a deep sigh underneath you, and you could swear you felt him twitch in the towel.

“okay. okay, baby.” 

he gently pushed you back, one hand still on your behind to keep you steady, the other one coming to finally move aside his towel. upon seeing his cock spring forward, you couldn’t understand how he could’ve managed to keep it tented under there for so long. 

“oh, god,” you breathed. you rested the crown of your head in the crook of his neck with your head titled down to awe at his blushing tip that leaked precum. he stroked himself a few times.

“you okay?” he asked, voice strained but somehow still soft with concern. you nodded eagerly, shimmying back up his thighs. it took both of your hands and one of his to push your panties to the side and line him up with your sopping entrance. the contact made you both suck in a breath, and eren leaned back just slightly to let you inch your way down whenever you were ready. 

you sunk down painfully slow onto his head, and eren grunted harshly. his hands gripped the sheets behind him to keep from rutting up into you. your hands came forward to seek purchase on his shoulders. how could he feel this good already when you’d barely gotten past the head? he was already nudging oh so gently on your g-spot, and you had to steel yourself for a moment before sinking down with more confidence. you and eren moaned in unison at the sudden movement, and the burning stretch he gave you felt unreal. you were trying to bottom out, and he was trying to be patient, but the way you were sucking at him was pushing his resolve. 

“y/n...” he breathed. you hummed in understanding, and finally, you brought yourself down to touch his thighs to yours. you yelped lightly and leaned into him to take a second. “ah...doing good. take your time, pretty girl.” eren’s arms brought you into an embrace, and the lack of movement allowed him time to stave off his climax and allowed you time to get used to the way he was splitting you open. before long, you were able to wiggle your hips and sway back and forth. eren hummed deeply, helping you pull your hips up before bringing you back down. in a moment, you were doing it all on your own, and he watched how he would disappear over and over again into your leaking hole and the way your tits bounced and your mouth formed an ‘o’. 

“feel good?” he groaned. you whined and nodded, but eren’s hand gripped your jaw lightly. 

“yeah, feels good,” you mumbled airily, concentrating on your movements. eren dragged his thumb over your bottom lip and he couldn’t help himself when he curled it into your mouth and on your tongue. his cock jumped from inside of you when you closed your lips around the digit and began suckling on it needily. 

“ohh, good girl.” the squelching sounds combined with the slapping of skin was nothing short of lewd. you bounced yourself up and down on eren’s dick as best as you could, trying to find the angle that smashed your g-spot every time. the soreness in your thighs slowed your movements every little while, and eren didn’t miss the way you whined for more that you couldn’t give yourself. 

he gripped at your hips to slow you down before he started pistoning up into your with all the stamina he still hadn’t used. you made a noise just short of a scream and collapsed into his broad chest, but eren was quick to wrap you up. “i got you,” he breathed over and over. the sweat collected on his forehead with the effort of his pace. your moans were nonstop now, stringing into one incoherent babble into his ear that he absolutely adored. your stomach grew hotter and hotter until it felt like it would erupt. 

“eren,” you said with urgency. he didn’t need to hear you say it. instead, he brought one hand between the two of you to rub at your clit, and it was all you could take before you practically sobbed into his neck and clenched impossibly tight around him. your arms squeezed him half to death as you saw white, pleasure rippling all over your body in waves. 

“y/n, y/n,” you just barely heard eren muttering. his sloppy movements that he brought to a fumbling pace and the way he nudged at your elbows was enough for you to practically melt off his lap, pulling off his cock only to replace it with your mouth within a moment. you sucked at his tip for not five seconds before eren was jerking into your mouth and emitting broken moans, warm cum shooting into your throat. you suckled at him gently to work him through the high, collecting every drop before cleaning him off. you pulled away carefully, and eren watched as you gulped down his cum before smiling at him. he shook his head in awe. 

“c’mere,” but before you could he was pulling you into his body with one hand. he brought you with him as he let his back hit the mattress. you took a few moments to catch your breaths before either of you spoke. 

“okay?” you asked him. eren reached an arm up to pull down his comforter and fit it messily on top of your naked bodies. his hands came to your waist and wrapped around you as tight as they could. finally, he leaned down to kiss at your hairline a few times before laying back with a sigh.

“okay.”

[somnambulants]

i love your writing!! could you maybe do something with exes to lovers with nat?

word count: 3.9K notes: thanks for the request! i’m glad you like my writing! i also may...have started thinking about writing a second part because im super attached to this fic. let me know if thats something you guys would be interested in!

“Barton, you’re such a –“

Your world stops turning at the sound of that voice, everything else becoming static. It doesn’t matter that you’re standing in a room full of people that you’re supposed to be impressing.

It’s been over ten years since you’d last heard that voice.

Vaguely, you know that Captain America is speaking to you but the only thing you can pay attention to is her.

You turn slowly, and the second you lay eyes on her you know for sure.

It’s definitely her.

You see it the second she spots you too.

In all the time you’d known her, she’d always been so much more proficient at hiding things than you but you still see the way her eyes widen as she takes you in and the way her face shifts into something that resembles shock before she manages to mask it.

“Nat!”

You startle a little, having now somehow completely forgotten that Captain America was next to you and that you were in the middle of a tour of your new workplace the second you’d landed eyes on her.

Oh god.Your new workplace.

Your new workplace that was also clearly her workplace.

As she approaches, you futilely look for every possible way you can escape. “This is Y/N. Fury’s informant while Agent Emery is on reconnaissance. Y/N this is Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha? Romanoff? Absurdly, you have the sudden urge to laugh.

She really couldn’t have come up with a better name after fleeing the country all those years ago? It’s a surprise to you that you hadn’t heard about her sooner with that alias.

Pushing that thought away and hoping that your face shows the professionalism you’re trying to convey, you straighten your spine and clear your throat. “Nice to meet you.”

Captain America’s eyes flick between the both of you. Maybe you’re not doing as good a job as you’d thought.

Natalia-Natasha takes the hand you extend to her and shakes it. “Likewise,” she says, and you hate the way your body still reacts to her voice all these years later; hate the way her touch still makes you feel.

Even more so, you hate that you don’t know what it is you’re feeling more of as you look into her eyes: fury or heartbreak.

She makes a flimsy –well flimsy to you – excuse and leaves the conversation after that. You watch her walk away, clenching the hand she’d touched into a fist as you resist the urge to put it through the wall next to you.

Somehow you think you’d have a hard time explaining it to the man still standing next to you, who is now watching you with a thoughtfully puzzled but not suspicious expression.

Not yet, anyway.

--

Your dreams that night are fitful and full of her. The first time you’d met, you’d been nothing more than children.

There are no children in red room though. Only fighters and a fighter, she definitely was.

You? Not so much. You’d never been designed to last more than a day in that place and you wouldn’t have, if not for her.

Natalia throws you back against the mat, again and then again and again. Each time you stand up with more difficulty until eventually, she throws you down so hard your vision blurs for a second.

You never had a chance against her, something you knew before you even stepped foot into the room and you know they must have known that too when they set you up against the most experienced fighter here.

It’s abundantly clear you’ve been set up to fail.

The next time she hits you, your legs give out beneath you and you can’t bring yourself to get up this time, even though you know what’s going to happen to you if you don’t.

You know how this works.

Bracing yourself for impact, you close your eyes and wait. It’s pathetic. You know.

The final blow never comes. When you finally crack open an eye, you find Natalia, arms crossed, just gazing down at you.

It might have been your imagination but her eyes don’t seem quite as hard as they had been before.

She extends a hand after a second of her just watching you and you watching her. A little part of you is convinced it’s a trick; that the second you take her hand, you’re going to fail whatever test this is.

Still, against your better judgement you take her hand and, rather than the macabre images playing out in your mind, instead she actually helps you stand, surprisingly gentle as she does so.

She gives you a second to reorient yourself and then her whole demeanour changes, turning cold and stiff as she crouches down back into a fighting position.

“Try again.”

Just as abruptly, you’re thrown into another and another. Quick flashes of the past that still haunt you.

Natalia taking you on your first mission.

Natalia holding your hand as you cried over the body of the first man you’d killed.

Natalia lying beside you on your mattress, running her hands through your hair gently when your nightmares became so bad you’d go days without sleeping.

Years and years of training. Years of bruises and broken bones. Mission after mission. Somehow, it’s all maybe not-quite worth it but it almost is – almost – because of her.

When you kiss her for the first time, you think that might be the first time either of you has had any control over what you do with your bodies. 

You can't remember a time where you'd had something you'd ever wanted and you wanted her so badly.

You can’t get enough of it. Or her.

And then, one day, you wake up and she’s just... gone. 

--

The next morning, feeling irritable and exhausted from your disturbed sleep, you walk into the avengers training room and find the one person you’d been hoping wouldn’t be there.

Of course, your mind spitefully whispers because of course it wasn’t enough for the universe to thrust her back into your life but it had to throw her in your face too.

When you enter, she has her back to you but you know she knows you’re there by the way her back stiffens slightly.

You watch as she stands up straighter at the words you throw at her back, unable to help yourself: “What is this? Babysitting duty? I think we’re passed that, aren’t we?”

She turns to you. “I usually come here early,” is all she says. She doesn’t respond to the bite in your voice.

You make a non-committal sound and then just decide to ignore her, stomping past her to make your way to the far corner of the room. You work by yourself in peace for about ten minutes before you hear the sound of footsteps and all of a sudden she’s in front of you.

“I need a partner,” she says. 

You have the urge to laugh in her face, before it strikes you how cathartic it would be to punch her right now, no matter how childish it might be, so you stand, letting the weight you’d been holding drop back to the floor with a loud thud, and follow her across the room.

You both crouch down in anticipation and you take a second to really look at her.

Her expression is unreadable. The pang you feel when you realise that surprises you.

There had been a time when you’d known her like the back of your hand and now she's nothing more than a stranger standing in front of you.

It hurts a lot more than you’d thought it would.

--

This continues for weeks. You don’t know why you let it happen but you do. You get up early; you go to the gym; you spar with her and then you fulfil the duties you’d been hired to do.

It’s almost easy to slip back into that headspace of your whole life revolving around her. Because it does. All you do is think about her when you’re not around her.

Over those weeks, you still barely speak a word to her because at least if you don’t speak, you have some kind of power.

To your surprise, she lets you ignore her, lets you pretend you don’t hear her whenever she speaks and you resent her a little more for that. You’d rather she hated you as much as you want to hate her.

It would make it all so much easier.

--

Eventually, though, you break.

You’re not strong enough to ignore your desire to know everything; to know how she’d ended up here. And why she’d clearly cared enough to stick around and try and save the entire world when you, a single person, hadn’t even been worth enough for her to stay.

“Why,” you pant, mid spar one morning. She’s kicking your ass, as usual. “Why here? Why the avengers?”

You’d sworn to yourself you’d never ask her this question but the yearning to know has been burning inside you since you’d walked into this building over a month ago now.

Equally as breathless, Natasha drops the careful façade she’d had up and looks at you with those eyes; the ones that could have made you do anything at one point in time. You’re not convinced they still couldn’t. “I wanted to do better… be better than what we were…. Isn’t that why you’re here, too?”

That answer hurts you more than any of the hits she’s landed on you this morning. And there’s been a lot. She’s still the superior fighter, even if she had left so long before you.

God, those words hurt to hear. Especially to have you lumped in with the clearly bad part of her life, whether it was her intention or not.

Maybe that’s why you say what you say next. Maybe there’s a little part of you wishes this whole situation would hurt her as much as it hurts you.

“How… uncharacteristic of you,” you ignore the last part of her sentence because honestly: you don’t know why you’re here. You feel like you’ve been lost and drifting your whole life and the only thing that had ever made sense to you was her.

You know your bitterness has bled into your voice with your words but you don’t make any effort to mask it. And if you can hear it, she definitely can too.

In the blink of an eye, she stops sparring with you, straightening up quicker than even you can catch. You let out a breathless huff of air as she grabs the front of your shirt pulling it so you’re forced forward until you’re almost nose to nose with her.

You hate that for a split second, before you can control yourself, you lean in slightly. As much as your mind can’t stand her, your body has no such feelings and it still wants her. You know you have no hope of hiding it from her so you don’t even bother.

“You don’t know me,” she says. The words come out of her mouth fiercely but the look in her eyes is soft, beseeching, like she wants you to hear her. “I'm not that person anymore.”

Like it matters.

It’s like you’re suspended in time for a second, and all you can think of as you look into her eyes is of the woman you knew.

You hate that you still miss her.

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes that you want to believe mirrors the torrent of emotions currently taking over you – the sadness, the anger, the grief – but you know better than to have hope when it comes to her.

You know all too well how it ends. And you’ve had enough of false hope.

Typically, in a fight, you know Natasha would come out on top – has every time -- but she’s never had your anger directed at her the way it is now and she isn’t expecting the way you’re practically vibrating with it as you shove her away, so hard that she stumbles backwards, only just managing to stay on her feet.

“Clearly,” you spit at her as you straighten up, and start walking towards the exit.

You know she’s still just standing there in the same spot. You can feel her eyes on you.“Yeah, run away,” she mutters under her breath.

It’s the first time she’s shown you the attitude you’d been giving her for weeks and her reaction is justified, you can admit it, but you don’t care.

You spin around, fury overtaking you as you advance on her until you’re pinning her against the wall behind her. “Sorry,” you hiss, glaring into her eyes. “I forgot you’re the only one who can do that.”

“That was different.”

You laugh. It’s not a nice one. It sounds like an injured animal trying to claw it’s way out of your throat. 

“Why? Because it was you doing it? Excuse me for not being —“

All of a sudden, she’s kissing you. Or you’re kissing her.

Either way, you’re kissing and you don’t know how exactly it happened but you know that you can’t get enough of her; can’t get her close enough even though there’s no longer even an inch of space between you.

She flips your positions, tugging you closer, and you’re abruptly bathed in cool air as she rips your shirt off you, shoving you against the wall.

Your heart picks up rapidly as she kneels in front of you, easing the rest of your clothes off in one fluid moment.

“I hate you. So much,” you tell her as you step out of your pants and it’s not convincing even to you. Still, you repeat it again and again as she kisses down your body – so tenderly and gently that your voice starts to wobble.

You hate it. You hate her.

She looks up at you from in between your legs, now on her knees. It’s such a vulnerable position that you find you can’t look at her and you have to close your eyes. Natasha digs her nails into your thighs as she forces them apart.

“Look at me,” she demands. Her grip tightens until you obey; you know you’re going have crescent shaped bruises tomorrow. Her gaze is soft and tender and just all consuming. You know there’s no coming back from it. You’d never had a chance, even back when you didn’t mind not having one. “Don’t look away.”

You don’t, not even when she finally, finally, touches you and your head falls back against the wall. 

You hold her gaze the entire time knowing how incredibly stupid this is and not caring at all about how much you’ll regret it later when you’re thinking straight.

--

And regret it, you do.

You stop working out early. You walk the other way in the halls if you see her. You know people are catching on that something is going on between the both of you; have caught multiple avengers giving you quizzical looks whenever you’re in the same room and it makes you feel even worse than before.

You channel all that regret into something more meaningful and commit to doing a damn good job at what you were actually here for. And you do. You can admit you do a fantastic job.

Every time you hand a report in or come back from a mission, you swear see a glimmer of approval in Fury’s eyes. Something you’d heard was notoriously hard to come by.

You must have done something really shitty in a past life though because after weeks of throwing yourself into your temporary duties, you walk into your temporarily office and are immediately flagged down by Fury, who debriefs you on the details of a mission he’s sending you on.

You’re thrilled for about three seconds until you see the name of the person you’re going with.

Agent Natasha Romanoff.

Fury is looking at you with a scrutinising expression when you look up from the file. Every time he looks at you it’s like he can see inside your soul. “Is that a problem?”

You grit your teeth and force yourself to smile. “Of course not, sir.”

--

It is a problem. A big problem, in fact.

You don’t speak to her on the flight there. Even though it’s only the two of you confined in the aircraft. You don’t even so much let yourself look at her. You can feel her looking at you multiple times, though, even though she’s piloting and should only be looking at the course in front of you.

There are no words exchanged between you all day beyond the times you absolutely have to speak. 

At least not until you reach the tiny hotel room you’d been given.

The second the door closes behind you both, she turns to you and opens her mouth and maybe it’s cowardly but you cut her off before she even start speaking.

“I’m going to have a shower,” you say and flee the room with your entire carry-on, worried that if you pause to sift through your things, she’ll keep talking.

Still in the same spot, the look on Natasha’s face when you emerge from the bathroom is full of clear exhaustion. You hate the way it makes you feel. Empty. Sad. It’s exhausting for you trying to convince yourself you hate her.

“I’m sorry I left,” she says and you freeze. “I wanted to come back. Find you. I just didn’t know - i didn’t know if you even wanted me to.”

You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long. Now you have you don’t know what to do. “Why did you leave?”

She hesitates. The look in her eyes tells you you’re not going to get a full answer. That as open as she’s trying to be, you still don’t get to know why she abandoned you. “It’s a long story.”

The evasion stings. “An apology means nothing if you won’t tell me why.”

It’s an unfair thing to say. You know that but you don’t really feel like being fair right now.

You chance a look up when she doesn’t respond and find her looking down at the floor. It makes you wonder what — or who — she must still be protecting by not telling you. 

It becomes apparent that she’s not going to say anything else after the silence between you drags on long enough that the tension in the air becomes almost unbearable.

You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the tears in your eyes so you flick the light off and turn the lamp on your shared nightstand off, throwing the both of you into immediate darkness. It’s definitely too early to be sleeping but you don’t care.

Eventually, after laying there rigidly for what feels like hours and listening to the sounds of Natasha tossing and turning in the other bed, you finally fall asleep and are immediately thrown into dream after dream that quickly turn into fitful nightmares.

Nightmares that may be more aptly called memories. After one particularly bad one that thrusts you back into consciousness, you bolt upwards, still half asleep. 

You only narrowly manage to avoid bumping straight into Natasha, who’s hovering above you, because of her hand on your shoulder holding you in place.

You flinch away from her instinctively and she backs up to give you a little space.

The only sound in the room is your heavy and desperate gasping for air. Natasha, now perched on the very edge of the bed, bites her lip, looking at you as if she knows exactly what you’d been dreaming about.

She probably does. It doesn’t take a genius to guess.

“Are you –"

“I’m fine,” you say flatly. You stare up at the ceiling, absently counting the tiles as you try to slow your breathing.

You’re hyperventilating, you know it, you just can’t get yourself to stop. You’re also sweating, it’s disgusting. You can feel how all of your clothes are stuck to you. Your hair flattened to your neck.

If you hadn’t been dealing with this for so long, you’re pretty sure that you’d think you were having a heart attack instead of a panic attack.

But you have. Been dealing with it. It’s just something you’ve come to expect now. You just never thought she’d be here to witness it.

All of a sudden, as you’re still trying to calm your breathing, the bed dips below you.

Your eyes fly open in shock to find Natasha sliding onto the mattress beside you, still on top of the covers.

Gingerly, she rests her head on the pillow next to your head and fixes her gaze on the ceiling.

It’s slight but her hand brushes against your own a few minutes later.

You suck in a breath between your teeth, but despite yourself, you let her move closer, until she’s so close you’re almost touching, and you can hear her quiet breathing.

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes slip closed again. Seeming to understand you’re not going to push her away, Natasha shifts closer, until you’re both shoulder to shoulder, the way she used to lay next to you when you had bad dreams when you were kids.

She grabs your hand, and slowly, hesitantly, she moves it to her chest where you can feel her heart thrumming rapidly under your fingertips. Surprisingly, it still works; you breathe in and out, in out in out, in time with her heartbeat.

You must at some point fall asleep because all of a sudden you can hear birds chirping outside the window and the sounds of people outside in the street.

When you open your eyes, you expect to find the spot next to you empty and the covers unruffled, as if she’d never been there at all but to your shock she’s still there beside you, awake and on top of the covers.

The circles under her eyes make you think she must not have slept at all.

You slide out of the bed and head towards the bathroom without saying a word, where you turn the shower on and just sit under the spray for what must be at least an hour, letting the water run over you and trying not to think.

This time when you return, she’s gone.

--

The rest of the mission goes smoothly. If nothing else, you both work well together as a team. You can still read her movements like a book, and she knows to anticipate what you’re doing before you even know yourself.

The days go fine. The nights not so much. You don’t speak about it but every night you’re woken up by the same dreams and every night you wake up to find her kneeling beside you.

If you were stronger willed, you would’ve shoved her away the first time, but you can’t bring yourself to. Maybe it’s a little selfish but you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

The last night of the mission is when you finally break, though. Something shifts in the air when you wake yourself up gasping and meet her eyes. The same eyes that had been blank and lifeless in your dream. 

You know she feels the shift as well by the way she’s looking at you, cautiously hopeful.

You don’t say anything though and neither does she. You just lay there, side by side, and watch each other carefully for what could be seconds, or it could be hours.

Her eyes are begging wordlessly: Truce?

Despite yourself, as you gaze back at her, you find yourself giving in. For tonight at least.

Truce.