#kate's always got my back

[simplydnp]

i'm rusty! they havent made me zoom in on screenshots in a while smh. thank you @goldenpinof ☺️

who do you think picked the q&a questions? they clearly scrolled so far and didn't choose based on the most likes. one of the questions had less than 10 views which knowing how twitter works was probably at the very bottom of the replies (2.9k replies!!!)

given how personal some of the questions were i would be suprised if it wasn't dan and/or phil themselves. i don't see someone else putting dan on the spot to answer the sister daniel q in a livestream. so my guess would be a mix of both of them. i thought the variety was pretty good!

[featheredomen]

LMFAO I TOOK MY MUM'S FUCKIN' JOB

[longmaxsilvarg]

will forever have a soft spot for chloe cause yeah dawg i get it we can try to avoid becoming attached out of the overwhelming fear of being abandoned again but miserably fail together

[blizzardfluffykpop]

it's starting to hit me that i'm going to have a career soon and like... that is like a wild thing to try to comprehend?? like yes i've studied my ass off for the past twoish months- to pass a test. but that test means i have job where i can sit and do my job? it's still a very radical concept to me.

[foldingfittedsheets]

For reasons known only to adolescent girls my friend Kate and I started communicating with extremely loud calls of, “Ka-kaw!” at some point during high school.

When trying to locate each other on the quad in lieu of cell phones we made do with good old fashioned screeching. The first call was always a lower tone. When one of us heard the cry we’d immediately echo it back at a higher pitch like dinosaurs playing Marco Polo.

This was probably obnoxious for all our classmates but man did we zero in on each other right quick. It was great. I never had to look for her in a huge crowd I just had to unleash my lack of social decorum in sonic waves. My only defense was that we only used it for out of doors. We weren’t monsters.

It served us extremely well the one time we went skiing together. She was a newer skier and got off the ski lift before I did after a stroke of bad luck and poor planning on our parts. By the time I had my skis on the snow I couldn’t see her. Worried, I took off down the mountain, not spotting her.

I planted my skis when I realized I must have passed her somehow. She couldn’t have made the same time as me. I threw my head back and shrieked, “Ka-kaw!!”

The sound cut across the cold thin air, sharp and carrying. To my delight and the surprise of several snowboarders going past me there was an answering “Ka-kaw!!!” from further up the mountain, reverberating joyously.

I’ve had this turkey post pinged several times, I can only say that I’m glad my friend and I aren’t the only bird girls out there.

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[sttoru]

‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru’s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”

[timmydraker]

Tim calls a family meeting and everyone is assuming he’s got a big case he needs help with, which is alarming for someone who refuses to admit that some cases are beyond him.

So, everyone shows up at the cave only to be ordered upstairs by Alfred. For those who only showed up to make fun of Tim for needing help, this is confusing because case work ain’t allowed upstairs.

All do them figure out quickly that this means it’s not to do with Gotham or Ref Robin, but the man behind the mask.

Bruce and Dick were there first and because Damian is always with one of them, so is he.

Steph picks up Barbara and Cass, with Duke already at home and Jason showing up at the same time as Kate and Lucius.

When they all get into the lounge room used for when people are over, just two doors down from the actual family room, they all find themselves chatting casually as they stave off their own worries or confusion. Some of them try find out if anyone knows what’s going on, but when Alfred and Barbara reveal they have no idea, they give up and make a few guesses but no more.

When Tim finally comes in after Alfred received him, he looks tired.

It’s not usual for Tim to get distracted with work and not sleep for a while, but he will conk out for hours when he decides to and wake up alright.

The bags under his eyes, the redness within them, and the way he looks close to tucking himself into a ball…

Bruce is immediately leaning forward, opening his mouth to make sure his son is okay but Tim just raised a hand to silence him. “Just… just let me speak, okay? I need to do it now or I’m not going to be able to.”

Everyone gives him a nod or look of understanding, making him twitch a smile before inhaling deeply and psyching himself up.

“I have cancer.”

…

Nobody speaks as Tim exhales shakily.

Everyone is staring wide eyed at the young man before them, who just reached the legal drinking age, and trying to asses his physical form for an understanding of what he just said. They’re all trying to gain X-ray vision to see exactly what is hurting him all while trying to convince themselves they heard him wrong.

Tim closes his eyes and speaks automatically, leaning into facts like he always does when he’s freaking out, “I noticed I was getting by more tired and fatigued around last year. My doctor said I have a low white cell count but he wasn’t alarmed as it was still in the normal range. But a few months ago I started to note that bruises were taking far too long to heal and I was getting a lot of pain around my joints and bones.”

He inhaled again, shakier than before at the same time that Alfred sits himself down with a hand over his mouth.

“It’s stage 2 and because of my lack of a spleen it’s going to be a harder process for treatment but fortunately I own a medical company so there’s that at least.” He makes a sort of joking smile that falters immediately, falling into a pulled back frown that comes with someone whose about to sob as he adds, “But it’s also aggressive so I-I don’t know how-how to-fuck-“

Dick and Cass are immediately moving off the couches they are on and catch him as he finally crumbles into himself.

Bruce is next to follow, the stoic man openly crying for the first time in years.

Jason and Damian are in shock, both frozen in place as dread takes over their minds.

Steph is looking out the window, as if staring at some kind of his or deity and demanding an expiration as to why they have to hurt her loved ones so badly. She’s crying, but it’s silent which is all the more harrowing.

Lucius places a hand on Alfred’s shoulder to comfort the elder even as he himself itches to go comfort the young boy who helped him run the company when he was at his worst.

Kate leaves the room to go call Bette, needing her mentor because this is just something she can’t handle.

Duke is sobbing into his hands as he leans into Barbara’s lap. Barbara who is clinging to him like a lifeline as she feels her world shift once again, feeling so angry and confused at how one of them could be threatened like this. Of all the ways they could go out, was it really going to be cancer?

It was a harrowing experience for all of them to remember that they were human in more than just their flesh being able to bleed and be wounded, but for it to grow sick. For it to age and attack itself.

They were human at the end of the day and Tim…

In Metropolis, Clark Kent rushed into the bathroom at his work to throw up as he heard a conversation miles away.

[drabbles-mc]

Lucky For You

Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, mentions of hospitals/injuries, no use of "y/n"

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: earlier tonight i lied to myself and said i wouldn't work on any new oneshots until i finished a wip. but I've been marinating on this idea since last week and i just had to write it down. just a short cute little fluffy somethin'! my first twisters fic. hope you enjoy!

You were shaking your head as you walked back over to the side of the picnic table that Tyler was sitting at. You had a beer bottle in one hand, the other resting on Tyler’s shoulder as you stepped in so you could plop back down beside him at the table.

“I’m still trying to figure out what you guys told Lily to say,” you gestured to Lily then Kate with the bottom of your beer bottle before taking a quick sip, “to get Kate to cave so quickly.” You gave Lily a playful smile. “What’d you say to convince her? Hm? ‘Cause lord knows it wasn’t either of these two,” you said as you nodded to Tyler first, then Boone.

Both men looked at you with dramatic looks of offense. “What?” Tyler asked, grin starting to curl his lips as he spoke. “You don’t think we were charming or convincing enough on our own?”

You rolled your eyes as he draped his arm around you. “No, I don’t.”

It got another wave of laughter. Tyler took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to lean in and kiss your temple. “Seemed to work just fine on you.” He reached across and stole your beer bottle from you, taking a sip before allowing you to snatch it back. “And you said yes to a way more dangerous proposition.”

You shook your head even though you were smiling, even though you could feel your cheeks warming. It was no great secret, or even breaking news at this point after the last few years you’d spent married to the ridiculous man sitting on the picnic table bench next to you. Sometimes, though, you couldn’t help the cheesy grin that crossed your face when you became a little more aware than usual of the wedding band on your hand.

“That’s different,” you said, not that it mattered, not that it helped your case at all as Tyler continued to nettle you good-naturedly.

“How’d you two meet, anyway?” Kate asked.

It was a fair question. You didn’t chase with the rest of them, never had. You’d met and fallen in love with Tyler before he decided to make a career out of it. The journey wasn’t always a smooth or easy one, but you never doubted him, or your relationship, not even for a second. Even in the hard times. A lot can happen over the course of six years, but you still clearly remembered when you first met him.

Tyler had started watching you the second he realized where Kate’s question was going. He watched the little twitches and shifts of your hands and facial expressions as you went rapid-fire back down memory lane. When you ended up with a little smirk on your face, he knew that you were all too happy to tell the story.

You took another drink from your beer bottle before just handing it back to Tyler, rather than trying to make him steal it again. “When I met Tyler, I’d say about, oh, seventy percent? Yeah, seventy. About seventy percent of his face was covered in bruises and bumps. Fractured cheekbone, split lip.” You turned and looked at him even though you were talking to Kate. “He was lookin’ real cute.”

She laughed, but you could see the mild confusion in her eyes as she looked back and forth between the two of you. “You find him after a rough chase, or…?”

You smiled and shook your head. “We met back before he was the infamous Tornado Wrangler.” Leaning forward, you braced your arms flat on the picnic table, Tyler’s hand sliding from your shoulder down to the center of your back, his palm warming you through your tank top. “They brought him to the hospital that I work at after he got stomped out by a bull at the rodeo.” You felt his fingers drumming against your back and your smile stretched a little wider. “I wasn’t even supposed to be checkin’ in on anyone in the wing he was in, but the nurse who was supposed to help discharge him had to leave.”

Tyler had a cocky little smirk on his face. “Lucky for you though.”

You gave him a look that didn’t pack nearly as much of a punch as it should of since you were grinning. “Yeah, real lucky for me that Jay’s kid got in a fight at school so he had to leave and he left you to me.”

Tyler laughed. “He was cute but I gotta say, I think you’re a little cuter.”

You gave him a playful shove, which he responded to by looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer again. You shook his head at him before looking back at Kate. “Anyway, as I was saying. I go into his room to talk through some of the paperwork with him, and with one eye practically swollen shut still this man right here is tryin’ to get my number.”

“Actually, if I remember right—”

“You were concussed into next Tuesday—I doubt you remember much of anything right.”

“If I remember,” he repeated with a laugh, “I was actually tellin’ you that you should just jot my number down from my patient forms so you could call me sometime.”

You looked at Kate with a feigned nonplussed look. “Told me somethin’ about making a ‘house call’. Real bold for a man who was about half an inch away from some serious brain damage.”

“Probably what gave him the confidence to ask in the first place,” Lily piped up with a laugh.

Everyone was laughing, and listening. Kate might’ve been the only one in present company who hadn’t heard the story before, but it wasn’t as though it was something that the two of you were constantly rehashing all the time. The two of you usually kept the retellings amusing enough anyway, allowing the rest of the crew to throw in their two cents even though they hadn’t been there when it all started. After all, Tyler might’ve been the one you met first, and under some pretty dire conditions, but you’d been around to help out the rest of the team plenty of times since then. Whether you were making sure they were all alright after a rough chase, or meeting up with them in the towns that had been blown through to see who you could help even if you weren’t off the clock. You might not have chased with the rest of them, but you were still part of the team.

“How long did it take for him to wear you down, then?” Kate asked.

 The shit-eating grin on Tyler’s face grew tenfold. He lightly bumped his shoulder against yours. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

You dropped your forehead so that it rested on top of your forearms for a moment before looking up and at Kate again. “I gave him my number after I pushed him to the lobby in his wheel chair.”

“Doctor’s orders, by the way,” he interjected with a shake of his head. “I didn’t need it.”

You rolled your eyes but kept going. “He was pretty persistent the whole way down, so I told him if he still remembered my name and number by the time his fractures all healed up, I’d meet him for a cup of coffee or somethin’.”

“Cup of coffee ended up bein’ a split six-pack and a failed bonfire at her cousin’s place, by the way,” he added on with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and your lip still wasn’t fully healed.”

He smirked. “Didn’t stop you though.” You lightly swatted his chest with the back of your hand but you didn’t say anything to refute his statement. “So really, what I’m hearin’, is that you shouldn’t be havin’ any doubts about our charms.”

“Sayin’ yes to a date is nothing like—”

“You also said yes to marryin’ him,” Lily added on, always happy to stir the pot just a little. “Y’know, with the ring that he almost lost in a chase.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “If I left it at home I was sure she’d find it!”

“Yeah,” Lily laughed as she argued, “and if the chase went wrong somebody on the other end of the county would find it. Then what?”

Tyler laughed and shrugged. “Corner store sells Ring Pops.”

You had no shot at tamping down your smile. “Prob’ly still would’ve said yes, too.”

(divider by @saradika 💞)

Twisters Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added to any of my taglists): @garbinge

[genderkoolaid]

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

— Kate Bornstein on the word "tranny" in this oral history from the Digital Transgender Archive

[satellite-evans]

Drunk in love

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: When their wives get drunk, it is up to the Bridgerton brothers to take care of them ;)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Kate and reader are drunk lol, just pure fluff

A/N:

this is just something silly I had in my mind lol enjoy

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton household was steeped in the soft glow of the evening, and in the library, two brothers sat comfortably. Benedict Bridgerton leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened to Anthony's latest tirade about the complexities of running the family estate. The occasional crackle of the fire punctuated Anthony’s words, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

"It's all well and good for you, Benedict," Anthony was saying, "to prance about with your paints and canvases. But someone has to keep this family afloat."

Benedict chuckled, shaking his head. "You take life far too seriously, Anthony. One day, you'll realize there's more to it than ledgers and land."

Before Anthony could retort, a burst of laughter erupted from the drawing room, loud enough to make both men pause. They exchanged curious glances, and without a word, rose to investigate the source of the commotion.

As they approached the drawing room, the laughter grew louder and more infectious. Pushing the door open, they were met with a sight that brought simultaneous smiles and sighs to their faces. There, amidst a sea of discarded shawls and half-empty wine glasses, were their wives: Y/N and Kate, draped over the settee in fits of giggles.

"My love," Benedict began, striding over to Y/N, who looked up at him with sparkling, mischievous eyes.

"Ben!" Y/N exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Have you come to join our party?"

Anthony moved to Kate, who was similarly animated, her cheeks flushed with wine. "What on earth is going on here?" he asked, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

"We were just... having a bit of fun," Kate replied, her words slightly slurred. "Isn't that right, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her grip on Benedict tightening. "Yes! And you should have been here, Benedict. We were planning all sorts of adventures!"

Benedict exchanged a knowing look with Anthony. "It's getting late," he said gently. "Perhaps it's time to retire for the night before we wake the whole household."

"But we’re not tired!" Kate protested, though she yawned right after.

"Yes!" Y/N said eagerly. " We have work to do. We need to save the pirates!"

Benedict looked at Anthony with a confused look on his face, not understanding a word his wife is saying.

"The pirates? What pirates?" He asked his wife.

"Silly Benedict, the pirates that got captured of course! If we don't help them they will die or worse, catch a cold." Kate said to her brother-in-law while slurring the words, indicating that the night was surely over for the 2 ladies.

With a mixture of gentle coaxing and persuasive charm, Benedict and Anthony managed to guide their wives towards the staircase, their efforts accompanied by more giggles and shushing noises. Y/N and Kate were like a pair of mischievous schoolgirls, clutching each other for support as they swayed precariously.

"Shhh, we must be quiet!" Kate whispered loudly, her finger pressed to Y/N's lips.

"Yes, shhh!" Y/N echoed, though her laughter threatened to spill over.

Benedict exchanged an amused glance with Anthony. "Easier said than done," he muttered, placing a steadying hand on Y/N's waist.

The trek upstairs was a comedic parade of whispered laughter and shuffling feet. Y/N, in her drunken state, decided it was a brilliant idea to try walking on her tiptoes to avoid making noise. She stumbled, her giggles turning into a high-pitched squeal as Benedict caught her just in time.

"My hero," she declared, leaning heavily against him.

"Always," Benedict replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Meanwhile, Anthony had his hands full with Kate, who seemed determined to recount an elaborate and entirely fictitious tale about their latest adventure. "And then the pirate said, 'No, it's my treasure!' and I told him, 'You can have it, but only if you dance a jig!'"

Anthony shook his head, suppressing his laughter. "Let's get you to bed, love. You can tell me the rest of the story tomorrow."

As they finally reached the top of the stairs, the brothers carefully navigated their wives down the hall to their respective bedrooms. Y/N clung to Benedict, her fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt.

"Do you know what we should do, Ben?" she whispered, her voice conspiratorial. "We should have our own little party. Just you and me."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is that so?"

Y/N nodded, her movements exaggerated by the effects of the wine. "Yes. And I have... ideas." She bit her lip, trying to look sexy for her husband but failing miserably.

Benedict couldn't help but laugh softly at her earnest expression. "I'm sure you do, darling. But I think you might regret them in the morning."

She pouted, leaning in closer. "You're laughing at me," she accused, though her own lips twitched upwards.

"Never," Benedict said, kissing her forehead. "I just find you utterly adorable."

Y/N’s pout deepened. "I’m trying to seduce you, Benedict Bridgerton, and you’re laughing."

Benedict wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "And I love you for it," he murmured. "But you’re far too drunk to remember this tomorrow."

Y/N huffed, but her eyelids were already drooping. "Fine. But you owe me, mister."

"I’ll gladly pay my dues," he promised, tucking her under the covers, making sure she was comfortable.

Once the bedroom doors softly clicked shut behind them, Benedict and Anthony exchanged amused glances, their expressions a mix of fond exasperation and lingering mirth.

Anthony let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Well, that was certainly an eventful evening."

Benedict grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Indeed. I never knew Y/N had such a penchant for dramatic declarations."

"And Kate," Anthony added with a raised eyebrow, "tyring to save pirates? I wonder where she comes up with these ideas."

Benedict chuckled softly, moving to pour himself a glass of water. "It’s all part of their charm, I suppose. Makes life interesting."

Anthony nodded thoughtfully, leaning against the dresser. "Indeed it does. They certainly keep us on our toes."

Silence settled between them for a moment, the sounds of the quiet house filling the space. Benedict took a sip of water, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at Anthony. "At least they provided us with some entertainment."

Anthony grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To our adventurous wives and the mornings after."

Benedict laughed, clinking his glass against Anthony's. "May we always be prepared for their antics."

The next morning, the dining room was a scene of quiet activity as the Bridgerton family gathered for breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the table laden with a variety of morning fare. Benedict and Anthony were already seated, exchanging knowing glances as they sipped their coffee.

"Good morning," Anthony greeted with a wry smile, his voice a bit too cheerful as Kate and Y/N finally made their way downstairs. The two women looked thoroughly sheepish, their faces pale and their movements slow, battling clear signs of a hangover.

Kate, with a hand on her throbbing head, groaned softly as she took her seat. "Please. Not so loud, Anthony," she muttered, reaching for a slice of toast but ultimately settling for a glass of water.

Y/N, trailing slightly behind, sat down next to Benedict, doing her best to avoid his amused gaze. "Good morning," she mumbled, her voice hoarse, reaching for a cup of tea as if it were a lifeline.

Benedict leaned over, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispered in her ear, "How’s your head, my love?"

She shot him a sideways glance, her cheeks coloring. "Let’s not talk about it," she replied, taking a tentative sip of her tea.

"But you were quite the charming seductress last night," Benedict teased gently, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/N buried her face in her hands, groaning softly. "I’m never drinking that much again."

At the other end of the table, Kate was having a similar conversation with Anthony. "Honestly, I can't remember the last time I felt this awful," she confessed, gingerly rubbing her temples.

Anthony chuckled, passing her a plate of fruit. "Perhaps next time you’ll heed my warnings about overindulgence."

Kate shot him a baleful look, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Don’t be smug, Anthony. It’s not becoming."

"Who, me? Never," Anthony replied with a wink, earning a soft laugh from Kate despite her discomfort.

As the morning continued, the initial awkwardness began to fade, replaced by the comforting normalcy of family life. Eloise and Colin entered the room, their curiosity piqued by the unusual quietness of their typically lively sisters-in-law.

"Good morning," Eloise said brightly, her keen eyes darting between Kate and Y/N. "You two look like you’ve been through the wars."

"Something like that," Y/N muttered, managing a small, embarrassed smile.

Colin, always one for humor, grinned broadly. "Did we miss an adventure last night?"

"Let’s just say it was a night to remember," Benedict replied, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a tender affection that spoke volumes.

Eloise raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell."

"Another time, perhaps," Y/N said quickly, the color rising in her cheeks again.

As the conversation flowed around the table, the bonds of love and laughter only grew stronger. Despite their mortification, Y/N and Kate couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for their husbands’ gentle teasing and unwavering support.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Benedict asked Y/N, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. "Bits and pieces," she admitted. "I remember laughing a lot. And I think I tried to..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

Benedict chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You were very determined to have a private party," he said, his eyes twinkling. "It was quite the spectacle."

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I’m so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Benedict said softly, leaning closer. "I love seeing every side of you, even the tipsy, adventurous one."

At the other end of the table, Kate was facing a similar interrogation. "So, what exactly were you and Y/N plotting in the drawing room?" Anthony asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Kate looked mortified, her face pale except for the flush of her cheeks. "I think we were planning an expedition to find some pirate treasure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or something equally ridiculous."

Anthony laughed, the sound rich and warm. "You certainly had quite the adventure in mind. Perhaps we should consider a career change?"

"Very funny," Kate muttered, though she couldn’t help but smile at his good-natured teasing.

The rest of the family, picking up on the mood, joined in the light-hearted banter. Colin leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "It seems our sisters-in-law have a penchant for late-night escapades. We'll have to keep an eye on them."

Eloise, never one to miss a chance to tease, added, "I think it’s wonderful. We could use more excitement around here. Perhaps next time, I'll join in the fun."

"Absolutely not," Anthony interjected firmly, though his smile betrayed his true feelings. "Two tipsy adventurers are quite enough."

Amidst the laughter and teasing, the lingering embarrassment began to fade. Y/N and Kate, though still feeling the effects of their overindulgence, found themselves relaxing, their initial mortification replaced by a growing sense of comfort. The warmth and acceptance from their family wrapped around them like a cozy blanket, reinforcing the love that bound them all together.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Kate Carin (Costume Designer): I was very adamant that I would need manufacturing on this job, because it gives you an opportunity to create things that you can't just find on the shelf and you can then really create worlds. I felt that Shax's, for me, from the outset, was always going to be red. In her final look when she comes back to lead the demons in the battle against the angels, I said to her, 'Will you wear a red leather catsuit?' And she said, 'Yes.' So we made her a red leather catsuit. And then I said to her, 'What about if we give you really, really great kind of animalistic shoulders?' So we made her huge leather, scaly shoulders, which she also donned, no problem at all. You'll see on the front of her armour is the stork, which is the Shax's demon's creature animal, so we had that embossed.

Sarah-Kate Fenelon (Producer): It's like the Neil Gaiman version of whata demon would wear when they were going, you know, she looks fabulous, but she also looks fierce.

Miranda Richardson (Shax): It's amazing. My many pointed armoured breastplate, which is very useful for anything that anybody wants to get rid of before a shot. I can just tuck up there. I've got my phone up there, I've got my script sides up there, coffee up there, you know. (video)

[k8martins]

. ⋆ ๑ wrapped around your finger

summary: reader is a new medical intern for the lvaces and tension runs high every time they interact, finally breaking after a tough game

request: no / yes

warnings: 18+ smut, rpf

a/n: this is my first kate fic so go easy on me lmfao and i got lowkey carried away it’s around 2k words so ummmm ya purr i guess

back in april, you landed a medical internship for the las vegas aces, just in time for the excitement of draft season. not only did your job enable you to interact daily with some of the most talented athletes in basketball, but perfectly coexisted with your interests in pursuing medicine. so far, your standard role was to examine and prepare players before and after games, including team practices. any injuries or concerns were also taken care of by you. however, being shy was an issue you still had to overcome. treating players with their kinesiology tape or bringing them necessities was always attempted to be a quick motion; hurriedly fixing them up and moving on to the next task.

but some players proved to make that difficult for you. coming into work on an average day, you found yourself kneeling at the foot of the newly drafted guard— kate martin. when she had got unexpectedly chosen by the aces, you sat watching from home, marveled by her tall stature and pin straight blonde hair. she was even more alluring in person, especially from the view of applying tape to her ankles and legs every other day.

“you know the drill, just keep your foot upright and i’ll get your ankle,” you murmured, looking up at kate as she was sat in front of you. her big blue eyes met yours, and she smirked without comment. quickly averting your gaze, you pressed your lips together in an attempt to keep composure.

one thing you had learned since she joined the team was that she occasionally enjoyed poking fun at your timid mannerisms.

“loosen up a little, girl,” kate playfully punched your shoulder, “i don’t bite”.

the gesture made you laugh and mumble some unnecessary apology, but you still felt her gaze even after you looked back down. trying to focus on the task at hand was nearly impossible in this position, being on your knees before her. as you pulled more tape, your mind raced of all the things you could do to each other. if one day you could set the professionalism aside and just push her legs apart—

“you’re my favorite medical person, you know that? you always get me right,” kate continued, knowing exactly what she was doing.

you snapped out of your thoughts and felt your face grow hot, looking back up at her. “thank you,” you said, barely getting it out, “a-and you’re all set now by the way.” kate thanked you with a slight chuckle, and was up and ready for practice.

——————————————————————————

it was interactions like these that kept you up at night. all the eye contact, suggestive gestures, and tension was enough to drive you crazy. you endlessly wondered if kate had meant to fuel the tension, or if it was all just in your head. regardless, these moments made you excited to come into work every day, anticipating the next exchange you two would have.

the entire next month of your internship consisted of increasingly tense encounters with kate, with each one wondering when she would just make a move. she had started to admiringly stroke your hair while you were knelt in front of her, knowing how much it would turn you on. every once in a while she would give your hair a light tug to make you look up for no good reason other than to get a good look at you. once you understood she was taking things a smidge further, you had no problem getting a little extra touchy when handling her legs, or simply handing her things like a towel or water bottle. you ran your hands up her legs in an “innocent” manner, both of you knowing damn well you were ready to find a secluded space together.

your favorite moments to see her were before and after big games. the way her pregame excitedness would be contagious, and the way after the game she would still have energy despite being tired. this day, kate was getting ready to play in a game with high expectations for the aces. you gathered all the things she might need, and headed into the locker room, where most of her teammates were already gone. you spotted her standing right in front of her designated space, and walked towards her. kate smiled knowingly when she saw you, and didn’t move out of the way as you bent past her to set down the water and towel in her cubby. your hips grazed each other when suddenly you felt her arms snake around your lower back. you slowly got back upright, and kate kept her arms around you, moving her hands to each side of your waist.

her big hands planted on your waist took your breath away as there was no escaping her now. face to face, kate kept her gaze on you.

“i was wondering when you’d come by,” she taunted.

you swallowed thickly, your mouth hung open but the words would not come out. even after a month, she still intimidated you with her beauty.

“i’m just joking, relax,” kate said, laughing lightly.

“i know. i just had to go find the best materials for you,” you joked back, trying to keep your cool and ignore the growing heat between your legs.

kate smiled back at you, sensing how needy you were becoming. “same time back here after the game?” she questioned, her voice low.

“of course. good luck tonight, kate,” you said back.

——————————————————————————

it was a tough loss for the aces. the final score came close, but ultimately the team returned to the locker room in low spirits. the loss was hard on you too, seeing kate frustrated out on the court, but you still had to do your job. giving everyone postgame materials and accessing injuries, you noticed to have treated everyone except kate. you craned your neck around the locker room, looking for the long blonde ponytail, but she was nowhere to be seen. eventually, the team had left for the night. you were left cleaning up after them, still wondering where your favorite player was.

you had your back turned from the entrance and putting away your supplies when you heard footsteps coming towards the room. your heart immediately began to race and you turned around to see kate standing a few yards in front of you, with an exhausted but eager expression on her face.

her eyes pierced through you, and your mind raced trying to think of something to say, but it was a blur as she quickly walked to you and took your face in her hands, kissing you deeply. your body tensed up at the surprise, but quickly melted down as you remembered how long you had been waiting for this moment.

it was a hungry kiss, with her hands moving down to your waist and pulling you closer. kate completely took control of you and backed you against the wall. in the heat of the moment, you decided it was your turn to tease her.

“where.....the hell.......were you.....” you said breathlessly between kisses. kate instantly pulled away from you and scoffed.

“just talking with the coaches, baby.”

her breathless tone made you weak in the knees and she immediately went back to making out with you. her hands found their way under your shirt and began exploring all over your waist. she passionately bit at your bottom lip as she moved her cold hands up to your tits, which she desperately squeezed at. the cold touch being in just the right place earned a little whimper from your lips. kate giggled against the kiss, finding amusement in getting you so needy so fast.

you felt slightly embarrassed at how easy you were being, and decided to switch it up on kate. maintaining the kiss, you made your way back to her bench, and pushed her down. you knelt down in front of her just as you did when you took care of her, but now your dirty thoughts were becoming a reality. kate did not protest being sat down and instead threw her head back, resting it right below her name plate— “K. Martin”.

your view from the kneel made your head spin tonight, with her face still sweaty and her messy hair slightly sticking to her face. she was still out of breath and tiredly looked down at you as you parted her legs. you kept the eye contact as you gestured for her to lift her hips in order to slide down her shorts. once off, you threw them elsewhere in the room, and positioned yourself further inbetween her legs. you looked up at her one more time and saw her chest rising and falling with every movement, her eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

“here? right now? are you sure, kate?” you questioned, half taunting half being serious. you placed your hand on her inner thigh and began slowly circling her clit. she bucked her hips up at the sudden touch.

“please...please...” kate whispered, and you felt your stomach flip. all of the nights she teased you and seemed so tough were now out the window as she begged you to continue.

looking around the room, there was no sign of life besides you and kate. you turned back to her and urged her to stay quiet before going down on her. your tongue skillfully lapped around her clit and she let out a strangled cry.

“shhhhh kate you’re doing so good,” you whispered against her wetness.

you brought your fingers up to her entrance and began circling around it before slowly inserting two fingers. you kept the sucking at a steady pace but began to finger her quickly. looking up at kate, her eyes were screwed shut and stomach tense. she was biting down hard on her lip, struggling to stay quiet. her constant little moans single-handedly almost made you finish, but you focused on her.

you continued eating her out as if she was going to disappear from under you, and picked up the pace. your left hand remained on her thigh and you felt her grab hold of it. she breathed hard as her other hand landed in your hair, lightly pushing your head and grasping your hair. you smiled thinking back to the times when she would have her hands in your hair while innocently getting taped up; oh how fast things can change.

“i-i’m gonna....” kate cried out, squirming beneath you and clearly reaching her limit.

the fast pace combined with tongue and fingers finally brought her to her release. kate moaned your name breathlessly over and over as she came on your fingers. eventually you stopped and she was able to ride out the high.

as soon as kate caught her breath she got you up off the ground and put you in her spot. she got on her knees and tugged at your pants.

“kate don’t you think we should stop... someone probably heard us-“

she didn’t even let you finish your sentence before she inserted her long fingers into you. kate did not hold back as she kept an unrelenting pace and began to kiss you. you moaned and panted into the kiss, struggling to kiss back.

you gave up on trying to kiss back and threw your head back, raspy moans escaping from your puffed lips. her fingers felt so good inside of you, hitting the spot with each thrust. she didn’t even need to do anything except finger you, and you were already close. you tried to moan her name but could only get out the “k” sound.

“just take it,” she demanded, getting frustrated you couldn’t kiss back.

kate began kissing down your neck and leaving very apparent hickeys all over. all you could do was moan as she took care of you, your eyes tearing up from the euphoric feeling. you tugged on her hair as you felt yourself on the edge of release. the way your hips squirmed and tears fell down your face told kate that you were ready and nodded at you to come.

her pace slowed as you relaxed from the climax and she began gently kissing your face. she wiped your tears with her other hand and ran her fingers through your messy hair.

“i got you wrapped around my finger, my favorite intern girl,” kate laughed.

“you’re so corny.”

“you.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[trikruismybitch]

Did I Cross The Line?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Kate Biship, MentionPast!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Warning: Domestic Violence, Violence, Angst, Implied Cheating

Summary: Y/n comes home after dinner and finds her wife home from a week long mission.

Word Count: 1.1k

Part Two

You walk through the door sighing, dropping your keys on the counter.

"Where were you?" Natasha asks voice husky

"With Yelena and Kate", You sigh again, you've been doing that a lot lately.

She scoffs. She narrows her eyes. It's dark but you can still see her. She's sitting at the counter sipping on a drink, most likely bourbon. Her backs slightly forward so you know she's had a few, not drunk, probably slightly tipsy.

"Listen, I'm tired and kinda tipsy. I really don't want to argue right now." You try to keep your voice soft but it comes out bitter anyways.

Natasha leans back in her chair, "I haven't seen my wife in a week. I come home she's gone and you leave no note, no text? And now when you get home at 2AM you just want to go to bed? You don't even want to speak to me?" She's angry you can tell by her voice even as she keeps tries to keep it even.

"You were on a mission Natasha, I didn't know when you'd be home. You have a phone you could have texted me." You're tired. Your bones feel heavy in your body, weighing you down, "Plus I was out with Yelena and Kate. It's not a big deal."

Natasha downs the rest of her drink.

"How am I supposed to feel, huh? You out with your ex doing god knows what?!"

You roll your eyes having heard this a few times. "My god Nat! I'm out with Yelena and her girlfriend! Kate and Yelena are dating now, did you forget that? And we're married! Kate and I have no romantic feelings for each other anymore, whatsoever!" You yell back "What you think me and Kate are having a quicky in the bathroom while Yelena waits at the dinner table, are you insane?"

Natasha stands up in anger "All I want is to come home and have my wife waiting for me! Is that so much to ask for?" she yells back

"You have to be kidding me! You're always gone Natasha! Always on a mission! I'm not going to wait around at home for you like a dog at your beck and call! I have a life too!"

Natasha scoffs, shaking her head and putting her hands on her hips "Did you forget that, that's my job! I have a responsibility Y/n! You knew this when we got married!"

"I'm an Avenger too 'Tasha, did you forget that?" You take a step closer to her "I go on missions but I don't make that my entire life! I have a life outside of avenging, I want to be able to spend time with family and friends!"

You huff out a breath "I can't with this Natasha. You have been absent from are marriage for months. Ever since the mission in Murcia," Natasha's eyes dart to the left but come back to stare at you. "You come home but you aren't present. You say you have training but i've gone to visit and you aren't there. So where have you been Natasha?"

She looks away from you not answering your question. You hesitate but ask it anyway, "Are you having an affair?"

Natasha's eyes flash to you, her crossed arms dropping.

She stares at you wide-eyes before they turn dark and angry, "How dare you ask me that! I have given you everything. We're married!" She defends herself.

"What else am I supposed to assume Natasha! You aren't here! You lie to me about where you're going! You take back to back missions! We haven't had sex in months! So you have to be getting it from somewhere else! 'Cause it sure as hell isn't me fucking you!"

"Unbelievable" she mutters, Natasha shakes her head and turns away.

"Are you serious? Don't walk away from me! You wanted to talk right?!" You go to grab her arm but the second you touch her.

It happens instantly. She clocks your left jaw and continues to attack. You block what you can but you're too shocked to properly defend yourself.

"Tasha, what are you doing!" you groan as she lands a blow on your ribs.

Natasha goes to strike your face but you block her. Grabbing onto her arms and locking them to your side so you can look at her. Her eyes are black and wild, her breaths coming out in heavy spurts and you know something is seriously wrong.

It all happens so fast. You got distracted and she used it to flip you on your back. Your head rings with the sudden onslaught of punches. Then you can't breathe.

"N-nat" you choke trying to break her grip in your throat. But she can't hear you. She stares down at you and her eyes are unfocused and you know Natasha isn't really there.

Your vision starts to go blurry with tears and black splotches clouding around Natasha's head. If you don't do something now you're going to lose consciousness. With all your strength, you're able to elbow Natasha's inner arm, loosening the hold she had on your neck. You slam your other elbow in the soft part of her thigh turning your body to throw her off you. You get up as fast as you can, left hand holding your neck, your right grabs the table to help you up. You take deep breaths, trying to regain your lost oxygen.

You turn to see Natasha sitting up from where you threw.

"Y-y/n....what-" she looks so shocked. She takes you in. You're leaning on the counter, you have cuts on your face as tears stream down your cheeks

"baby-" she chokes out tears falling from her eyes as she realizes what she had done "I-im so sorry" she reaches out towards you from her position on the ground yet even with the distance you find yourself flinching back, backing away from her.

You slowly start to inch away towards the door. Natasha starts shaking her head standing up "W-wait, i'm sorry. I didn't mean-" Your eyes go wide as she stands up quickly, too quickly, and comes at you.

You're scared. You never thought you'd be scared of her. That she'd hurt you. You shake your head and you run out the door.

"Y/n!" Natasha goes to chase you to explain. "Come back!" She needs to explain. She needs to apologize.

You run, heart beating rapidly as you hear her footsteps as she follows you. You bang on the door as loudly and fast as you can. You look around and see Nat round the corner, so you bang harder on the door.

The door opens.

You and Nat both yell.

[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one…

What am I doing here? The words echoed in your head like a pulsing poison, eating away at your brain like ants to honeycomb.

Your brother was off sitting in a circle, fawning over cars, football, and all else that fueled testosterone and silly male enjoyment.

And then there was you, hugging the corner like an old lover, its shadows mirroring your open embrace.

“We should go over there,” declared Kate, a ringlet of her curl dancing with the springtime breeze. “You know, to see what the boys are talking about.”

No. No no no no no no—

“Yeah, we should!” Oh, if people wouldn’t see it as odd for you to slam a hand against your cheek…

There was a glaze over your pretty, fretting eyes and restless mind, a honeyed glaze slick with doubt and dissociation. You’d pushed yourself enough by coming here, and now you were being led like lamb to cleaver—ready to face your slaughter at the hands of—oh.

So busy was your mind that you might have kept your head bowed if not for subconscious pleasure.

His boots were shiny, and his denim tailored—and it’s all you paid attention to before your gaze shifted upward to find two remarkable blue-gray eyes peering in curiosity.

“Clark!” he blurted, offering a strong hand, and if you had half a mind, you would have realized it wasn’t politeness but interest.

You, always so caught up in doubts and hyperfocusing on imperfections. So caught up that you never quite saw what mirrored in men’s eyes when they gazed hungry at you: intimidation. You were strong, intelligent—and God—so pretty. Yet you could only breathe in your lack.

So no, when the handsome flannel boy with glasses far too big for his chiseled face and unruly raven hair—when his southern-kissed greeting met your ears, you had no idea it was a game.

A game between the men.

First to catch her interest would be first to have her.

But Clark was different. He wasn’t interested in feeding off the competition, he wanted to beat them to it. To offer you what they could not. But you knew none of this. You only knew that he greeted women as if a fire was forcing his hand.

“Y/N,” you warmed with a smile, shaking his hand in turn. He pulled back, gazing at his palm for a moment before a pinch settled between his brows.

“This is my sister, everyone. And this is my girlfriend, Kate.” Your brother strung Kate to him like a fly to spiderweb. She became smiley again, saying, “We got bored and decided to eavesdrop.”

“Be our guest,” Clark offered, the southern tang to his voice so soft you had to drown out the world to catch it. His eyes were on you, but your head was too bowed to realize.

Your gaze flickered to Kate sitting atop your brother’s lap. You shifted on your feet.

Vance, your brother’s friend, whom you had an insufferable crush on, stood in unison with Clark.

Their gazes locked in a silent contest you were too innocent to realize before Vance, frustrated, laughed breathily and sat back down.

“Oh no, it’s fine—” you began, but Clark shook his head, stepped aside, and motioned to the armchair. His gaze was so severe you had no choice but to comply.

You shuffled over awkwardly, finding your seat—only Clark stood beside you. He smelled of honeyed whiskey, chai, old books, and firewood. You stared at his veined hand on the arm of your seat, your mind wandering for a moment… What might that hand feel like against your skin?

“Surprised you guys aren’t over there yapping about books,” Vance began, his coal-colored eyes blanketing your face like a sinful dare.

It would never work. He was the moon, and you were the sun, warm and bright opposed to cold encased by darkness. But for months, his subtle flirtations evoked a lonesome part of your heart. Perhaps it was the lesser part of you, used to unhealthy men, that made you bend toward his attention like a starved flower. Regardless, you did, and it never made you feel less awful after parting.

When your gaze broke from his, you giggled shyly in unison with Kate, but that strong voice sliced through, commanding your attention again.

“You like to read?” he asked.

You flicked upward to Kate, only to find her chocolate stare upon you.

Oh… he was asking you.

“Um—” you began, nervous to have attention on your voice. “Well, yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of?” he tested with the lazy beginnings of a smile. You realized then how silly you sounded.

“Do you read?” you asked Clark, allowing your curiosity to bring your eyes back to him. As if he were a marionette, and you his new puppet, being pulled by an invisible string so he might study your pretty eyes. Were they always so warm and doe-like? Or had the wine made them more gentle? He wondered as you turned the question onto him.

“I do,” he replied, but when you grew shy and quiet again, he winced at himself. His icy gaze stuttered toward Vance, and he knew then that he’d have to open his mouth if he wanted your attention. He’d just have to work a little harder, and that was okay.

Usually, pretty girls like you would flock to him with no effort needed. Something about him looking like a Pinterest boyfriend, and all he had to do was sit and attract. But you… something about you told him you weren’t like the rest.

“I uh— I do.” He continued, breaking the stretched silence. “Sally Rooney—” he began, but you cut him off immediately.

“You read romance?” Your eyes widened, and your body turned toward him, and for a moment, you were completely lost in his words.

He didn’t pause or flicker with annoyance at your enthusiasm but instead gave you a lopsided grin.

“I do,” he confirmed. Though not a lie, he found himself a fisherman who’d hooked you with the most irresistible bait. Pretty, mysterious, shy girl you were—now he’d get you to talk. “Do you?”

Kate cut in, “We read about fairies and dragon riders.” You flushed a pretty pink with an embarrassed laugh. He peered down at you, giving Kate only a ghostly laugh of acknowledgment.

“You like fantasy, then?” he said so low it was as if the conversation was reserved for only the two of you.

As if fate were aiding his hand, the others fell into comfortable conversation. Not you, though. You were pinned under his grayed gaze.

“I read anything with a good love story,” you answered, so honestly, it surprised you.

“I like that,” he said simply, as if he were talking to himself. When he realized it, a pinch snaked between his brows, and you couldn’t help but softly laugh. He mirrored you. “What?”

“You’re likely the only man alive who does, if you’re telling the truth.”

“Well I—” he began, but your brother cut in.

“Ready to head out, Y/N?” You noticed just how entranced you’d been in this handsome stranger, not for his pretty face or interests, but for his words. The rest never mattered—not for you anyway. You often found it hard to capture any man’s attention, let alone the handsome ones. Even so, a lick of disappointment thrummed in your heart.

You dared to wonder what might happen if you offered your social media so he could contact you again. But the idea sped your heart and widened your eyes, so you stood with a nod.

Vance offered you a warm hug, and you merely waved at the others before turning to Clark—well, Clark’s chest. He towered over you, his honeyed whiskey scent licking your senses as he pulled you into a warm embrace. Gentle, curious, as if testing the feel of your body against his. Stranger to stranger—but he was so warm, so confusingly familiar.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke first, pulling away. Swayed by his warmth, you could only nod.

Now was your chance. Your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ask for a way to keep in contact with this mysterious stranger. But you cowered when you glanced up at his pretty face.

Fate wasn’t kind, and in your mind, you decided there was a model waiting for his warmth at home—and you were only allowed to entangle with him for a moment, never again.

“You too, Clark…”

Then you were off, never to see the mysterious stranger ever again.