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league-of-sam · 8 months ago

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Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FOUR

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 5

It was mission day.

Training over the last two weeks had been exhausting, but the payoff was right around the corner.

The mission was simple – get in, get the hostages, get out.

Fender had been given intel of another AQ human trafficking den on the border of Serbia, and it was KorTac’s job to get them out and get them to safety.

Simple enough, and something this task force has done a hundred times over. That didn’t stop the nerves from creeping up from within you, though. it didn't feel right, being on a mission without the 141, without your family.

How much could you truly trust the people around you?

Now you sat, clutching your rifle to your chest, surrounded by the rest of the team; all of you clad in the best tactical gear that Laswell had to offer.

You scanned the room, desperate for a glimpse of the giant man that had clouded both your heart and your brain, frowning when you came up empty.

Kӧnig had been…odd to deal with.

But you were quick to learn that that was just him. He was sweet, quiet, kind, thoughtful, fidgety. It made you like him all the more, and you were so incredibly bad at hiding it. Ghost almost had a heart attack when you admitted about your little crush, the man had to be held back by Soap, Gaz, and Price to stop him ‘coming down there to get you and shoot him’.

And people said Price was the father of the group!

After spending three hours convincing Ghost you were just fine, Kӧnig had knocked your door, ready for his next lesson. You’d made an agreement – he opened up to you, working on his issues with social interaction, and you would teach him to be a better sniper.

It worked, you thought, and you were finally breaking down some of his walls.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you so quiet and closed off?” You asked tentatively, putting your rifle back into its protective carrier.

“Was, how you say, bullied? As a child, I was always big, and the other children made many comments and hurt me.”

Your heart hurt hearing him say this. You were no stranger to bullies, having been picked on your entire childhood also.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“You do?” he said, voice surprised.

You smiled softly, “Yeah. Kids aren’t nice. Adults are even worse. Still happens every now and then, people underestimating me or thinking I don’t deserve to be here.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It is. I can understand why you wear the hood all the time, keeps people away from something else they can use.”

“Ja.”

“I sometimes wish I had something, but Ghost always told me not to go down that road. He says it’s a hard one to come back from.”

“It is true. It’s scary, revealing yourself.”

“I’m sure it is, but it’s scary wanting to cover up, too.”

“Why would you want to?”

You frowned, looking away from him as you continued to pack your things, “Because I don’t like the way I look. Sometimes, I wish people couldn’t see me.”

He looked at you, dumbfounded, “Aber du bist so hübsch. (But you’re so pretty.)”

“What?”

He blushed, looking at his shoes, “Oh, um, you are just kind. I am sad for you.”

“I’m sad for you too, Kӧnig.” You smiled, “But it’s alright. Those people mean nothing now. I used their hate to help my anxiety, and now I’m here to help you improve yours.”

“(Y/N), I think you are helping.”

“Yeah? I think so too.”

He stepped a little closer to you, his movements stopping you in your tracks.

“Ich habe noch nie ein so schӧnes gesicht gesehen, Schatz. (I have never seen such a beautiful face, sweetheart.)” He whispered, his fingers barely touching your chin as he tipped it, making you look up at him.

Your breath was caught in your throat, heat rising to your cheeks as you melted into his touch. You reached up, your hand cupping his as it moved to your cheek.

Your heart thudded in your chest as he stepped closer to you, the other hand slipping around to rest on your waist.

Before you knew it, your body was pressed against his, the two of you searching each other’s eyes for any sign to stop.

There was none, but as soon as your fingers grazed the bottom of that damned hood, moving to lift it away, the familiar jingle of the ringtone set for Price echoed around the walls.

You fumbled, stepping back from the giant, “F-fuck…I- sorry, it’s Price I-I have to take it.”

Kӧnig released a long breath as you moved away from him, whispering to himself, “Oh, mein gott. (Oh, my God.)”

He barely paid notice to you speaking with your Captain, until something you said caught his attention, making his heart shatter.

“Yes, Price,” you laughed, “As soon as the job is done, I’ll be on my merry way.”

You were leaving?

“Yeah!” you spoke again, turning to smile at him briefly, “He’s doing well, I think he’ll be fine here. No- Captain, listen…you know what Ghost is like! It’s just a job, right? So, when I’m done, I’ll be back, promise.”

What?

‘It’? Were you talking about him like that?

Did you really think of him as nothing but a mission, something for you to fix and then leave behind once the work was done?

“I’m just a job?” he said, voice small as he watched you put your phone down.

You stood confused for a moment, until you looked back at your phone, reliving the conversation with Price.

“N-no, Kӧnig, t-that’s not what I meant by that-”

“I’m just another task for you to complete before you go leaving to your elite task force, ja?”

His voice raised with every word as he angrily collected his own things. Hurt seeped from him, and you could understand exactly why.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you pleaded, “Yes, I was brought here to do a job, but you are not just a job to me. You’re a human being!”

“A human being you were brought here to babysit.”

“Yes! I was! But that wasn’t my fault! I didn’t fucking want to!”

Your frustration got the better of you, and you snapped. No, you didn’t want to be someone’s babysitter. You were an SAS-trained sniper, for crying out loud. But you’d seen someone in need and stayed.

And you were so glad you did.

But he didn’t see it that way, who could blame him?

“Okay, sergeant. Danke for the lesson.” He said, and he nodded to you, turning towards the exit.

“Kӧnig, please- don’t leave, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-”

He ignored you, shaking his head as he flung the door open, the noise echoing around the shooting range. You winced, tears welling in your eyes as you watched his hulking form stalk away from you.

That’s the last he spoke to you.

It was the last you’d even seen him.

For three days.

He didn’t come to the shooting range, he hadn’t been showing up for training, and he hadn’t been eating from the canteen.

You never meant to hurt him or pry too far, but it was why you were here. To help him understand about teamwork and morale, to help him understand that not every person was out to get him. But you never meant to make him feel like he was just a job, just another assignment.

In a last ditch effort, you scanned the room again, and your heart skipped a beat as blue eyes pierced yours.

He was leaning against the concrete pillar on his left, arms crossed over his vest, hip stuck out as one of his feet rested in front of the other. Your eyes examined his frame, subconsciously licking your lips as you took in his appearance. He looked even bigger with all the gear on…even better.

Kӧnig blushed furiously under your gaze, flustered as he tore his eyes away from you to look back at his superior, who’s voice was booming around the room.

“Karma!” his voice made you jump, head snapping forward, “You will be taking primary overwatch. The snipers are to follow your command.”

“Yes, sir.” You answered.

Fuck.

“Now, the mission is simple. We will take the trucks down through the mountain pass, and there is a guard under our pay to let us pass without issue on the border. Roze.” Fender spoke, passing the baton to his second in command.

“From there, Contact Team 1 will press west, taking the building from behind. Contact Team 2 will follow after breach, collecting the hostages and running them to the van that is waiting. I will be driving that.”

“The Sniper team will head east, setting up overwatch to take out any stragglers that push through from the breach, am I clear?” Fender finished.

Several voices answered in unison, nods and encouraging looks thrown around the room between comrades.

You only squeezed your gun tighter, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips.

KorTac was so different to 141.

The journey to missions would be silent, all of you quiet from the weight of what you were about to endure.

But not here.

People were chatting away, making jokes, making plans for the evening as if they were so certain they’d even make it home. It completely terrified you. The only thing keeping you alive was the promise you made to get back to your boys.

No wonder Kӧnig hated it here…so did you.

Somehow, the journey felt like it took forever, but no time at all at the same time. Something wasn’t right, you could feel it deep within you. Even the encouraging texts from the 141 group chat weren’t helping, despite Soap insisting that his flurry of memes was appropriate.

It wasn’t long until you were in position, the front of your body damp from the moisture in the grass surrounding you.

“Karma to Actual, Sniper team in position, waiting on count.” You spoke quietly, nodding to your team to settle.

“Copy that, Karma. Contact Team 1 is on route for your position.” Fender replied.

As soon as he said that, the sound of combat boots connecting with the ground flooded the air around you, legs wading past with guns held high on the target. Your heart skipped as you caught a flash of red and white stripes as Kӧnig moved past you.

He moved swiftly and silently, completely in his element.

Now was the time you’d see him in action; you’d see the crazy that everyone warned you about.

“In position, sir.” He spoke, his accent thick as he whispered into his comms, taking up position in front of the doors.

Moving the scope to settle on him, you peeked through, gasping as you saw he had no weapon at all on him. It was just him and his fists.

They genuinely did just use him as a human battering ram.

“On your count then, soldier.”

You watched him as he took a final breath before his voice flowed in your ear, “Eins…zwei…drei…

Einsetzen! (one…two…three…engage!)”

On cue, the splintering of wood echoed around the trees, and the popping of gunfire and the screams of women followed.

“Okay everyone, on your mark! Let’s clear the way.” You commanded.

One by one, you shot your rifle with ample precision, taking out the AQ soldiers that tried to escape the hands of Kӧnig, and the rest of Contact Team 1.

“This why they call you Karma?” Calisto’s voice sounded.

You let out a laugh, “Indeed it is.”

“Badass!”

As yours and König’s team cleaned out the AQ, contact team 2 made their way in to collect the hostages. That’s when you got the ‘all clear’ to move in, offering any aid needed to the poor victims.

You moved quickly, throwing your rifle over your shoulder as you stumbled down the hill towards the building, your team following swiftly behind you. The doors swung open, and a crowd of dirty and frightened women poured out, Roze pulling up with the van and ushering them in.

It was seemingly over, and you threw a small smile to Kӧnig as he helped one of the smaller girls out of the building. He looked back at you, holding your gaze for a moment, until screams and cries and yells of commands tore your attention away.

Running towards the group with a fully loaded semi-auto was a straggler, the last AQ soldier that had apparently been missed, and he was headed right for Kӧnig and the little girl.

You tossed your gun aside, not even taking a second to think, and ran as fast as your legs would take you towards them.

You ignored every order to stand down, every yell from Fender to fall back.

But no one was as quick as you to react.

You reached them just as the bullets started spraying, the force in which you banged into Kӧnig knocking him to the floor as you scooped the girl in your arms to shield her.

Somehow, you’d managed to save them both from the oncoming assault, but your complete disregard for your own life came to bite back at you as you screamed, a searing, burning pain shooting through your thigh as a bullet struck you.

Roze yelled, reaching for the child as you tossed her forward, falling to the ground when another bullet shot into your back.

Your vest protected you from deadly harm, but the force of the impact had you fall to your knees, landing on your front in a daze.

The rest of the team didn’t even get a chance to unload their own weapons into the enemy, as Kӧnig shot up, tears pricking his eyes as he ran at the soldier, tossing him into the air and bringing him back down over his bent knee.

A sickening crack of bones echoed through the valley, until silence fell, and the only sound was your laboured whimpering in the grass.

Until that wasn’t heard either.

Your body went limp.

And your vision faded to black.

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skarsbabe · 7 months ago

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Sol y Luna; a captain's order.

Bill skarsgård x reader!au

Summary; A rejected soldier and his love-hating woman of a surgeon meets again in a different circumstance—hoping to forget about one another what will happen if old flames reignite in amidst of sworn duties and personal feelings?

TW. Implied violence, cursing. (talk of gùns, blàdes, etc.) Read at your own discretion.

a/n: inspired by descendant's of the sun series because i'm in love with it (and bill). I also might've changed a few details in this, and gave them their own background stories & characters.

word count; 2.6k

ATTENTION: I do not consent my work to be copied, posted, or plagiarized in anyway. This is an ongoing series let me know if you liked it!!

"It's the demilitarized zone, so we'll resolve this in dialogue." Bill says casually as him and Wolf take their gears off. See this was a normal thursday for the big boss, atleast that's he thinks. Wolf looks at his friend with a blank face and eyes for hunger, maybe what hid behind his eyes has a double entendre since their meal was cut short by these troublemaking bastards.

The rest of the alpha team stood alert as they watch their captain and comrade approach the ruined building where two hostages are captured in. Two hands raised in a surrending manner bill spoke, "This is the operation commander, is the two hostages okay?," fuck they are really making it hard for them, he thinks.

"Let's stop this now, we'll send you home." he shouts from the outside making the hostage-taker scoff in response. "Looks like they won't go quietly," wolf whispers next to him, yeah man that's what I've been thinking, wanna hit this old style? He wants to say. "Let's go in." Bill smiles and nods before he clicks on his earpiece

"Big boss transmitting, I'm going in with wolf." Big bad soldier with a head full of ego.

"Piccolo transmitting, position secured." The two held up their hands together still, feigning in surrender in exchange for the two imprisoned victims.

"Snoopy transmitting, explosives in place." This all suddenly took all of the remaining special forces team's attention, especially harry potter. "We're using explosives?" snoopy glared at him "it's only a last resort in case the negotiation fails." The team gave their sighs of defeat and tight-lipped resignation while hoping for the best of not having any casualties for the day. Perhaps they still remember the earful they've received from the general.

"Stop this now while we still let you, it'll only get worse in the morning." Wolf's impending patience gets shorter each second these kidnappers waste.

Suddenly the doors busted open in place as the criminal's lunges at the two like dying hyenas out of the cage, all of them are armed with different blades. Classic move.

They all fought them off with ease until the the leader of the gang meet's bill's eyes. A familiar one he thought. Half of his face was being covered by the black balaclava but he knew that look all so well. One that thought him how to kill, and how to be killed, one they thought was gone, has reincarnated himself in front of him, meeting death itself.

Before he knew it a blade slashed itself into his side, waking his brain from his old dilemna of memories from the past, "sierra."

"I'm glad you recognized me, comrade." He laughs darkly as his eyes hold no remorse. "But i'm afraid I can't let a special forces man, let run free after this incident." He says before he swiftly runs his blade to his face once again, they fought time and time again before bill's blade reaches sierra's neck.

"you won't be able to kill me, we both know that a man of the country he serves cannot kill." The nerve of this man really.

"But we, the republic, are different." He smiles before bill feels the coldness of the barrel behind his head. Wolf turns to his side as he hears the sound of a glocking gun, seeing his comrade calm as he is while being in the line of meeting God.

"Seventy years since the division and yet we still have misunderstandings." Bill scoffs, before he looks at the man dead in the eyes. "If it is to protect the peace, we will shoot precisely, wherever, whenever."

sierra looks to his side to see a red dot following suit, pointing precisely on his forehead. "Let's not make any mistakes like this again. I don't interfere when an enemy makes a mistake."

"I can't come as a warrior and leave as a casualty." Sierra says as he orders his men to put the gun down. "Nice to meet you again, Captain Skargård."

"Likewise, but let's not make it an annual event, lieutenant Santos." sierra yields his weapon to the ground and orders his men to go follow him. "Big Boss transmitting, alpha team has resolved the situation."

"you must've felt proud, huh." Wolf whistles in his direction, smirking. "big bad cop."

"DID YOU SHOOT WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED? your score.."

"This barrel looks a little twisted, doesn't it?" Wolf complains in response while inspecting the toy gun in hand. "It doesn't shoot very well," while the two expresses their annoyance to the toy gun forcing and banging it in different ways the owner of the store yell's in caution "hey! Be careful with that!" He says before he snatches it from wolf's hands, "mister, your gun doesn't work." Bill snickers in response laughing in his friend's unimpressed face.

"That is because you aren't real soldiers, people in iraq uses this exact model and they work just fine," he yaps in annoyance. "This isn't the same model—"

"THIEF! THIEF! CATCH THAT THIEF!"

The sargeant sighs in place. As their attention caught on the commotion happening, "Let us borrow this for a bit." Before he snatches it away from the owner's hands, "but we're on our break, man." Bill complains before following his friend.

"It's a toy gun so we have a short range, about five meters." wolf says while they stand their ground aiming the gun at the alleged thief running on a motorcyle. "Ten meters,"

"Guys that's dangerous, move! move! You hey!" The thief screams, before the two clocks their toy gun in place. "Shoot." Baby bullets shoots through the teenagers eyes aiming it perfectly making him fall off and slide onto the fruit stand on the corner.

"Did you call the police?" Wolf asks the motorcyle owner, before he hears it's engine roar, "The motorcyle is fine, calling the police over for a coupon thrief is more bother than what it's worth. Besides his injury has nothing to do with me. Okay? Thank you." The man spoke hurriedly before he rode away. Wolf sighs in defeat before he saunters back with friend who seems to be writing something down on the thief's forearm.

"You little punk one wrong move and you could be stuck with lifelong spinal injury. Don't move." He says before he flicks the thief's forehead back to lie down.

"What are you doing now?"

"Providing first aid after an act of social injustice." He says before pulling the string from his pants, smiling mischeviously, "let me buy those two teddy bears there,"

"Ah, Those aren't for sale," the owner buts in again before he was glared by the two men in response. "Sell them to me, or I'll win them all."

The man runs back with more stuff toy than they needed.

"I think she is the one." Wolf says before patting the head of his date, a white bunny plush bear. "yours is pretty cute." wolf teases as he sees his friend choke on his drink. "This? We're just friends," he responded with unfazed sarcasm, "is that so? Rejected you, again? That's why your friends?" wolf teases more before bill's phone rang, "oh you wanna play dirty. Oh look who's calling, what a coincidence." bill smiles in victory.

"What is that the unit? Are they gonna cut our lunch short, again?"

"Not our unit, but yours." Bill laughs as he flips the phone in wolf's direction, seeing the caller id as her name, In big bright bold letters.

Lieutenant. Vann-Reid

"Don't you dare answer that." Wolf hisses as his friend, who's still having his fun by pretending to swipe his finger onto the answer button. "I'll treat you steak." He tries to plead again, only to be met with more boisterous laughter coming from him, "Steak? I sure make enough money to eat that everyday, is that your best negotiation yet?" Bill simply taunts, he really is The big boss, wolf thinks, the big boss of ego and flattery.

"I have a cousin who's a flight attendant that I can set you up a date with now, decline that call." Now he really must've hit the jackpot as bill's eyes glints in delight.

"And you've been hiding that desirable family member from me? How dare you." Bill gasps in fake offence while clutching his chest. "C'mon stop with the dramatics, do you want it or not?" He glares at his friend again, "I didn't say anything did I? Give me your phone, c'mon I have to see this flight attendant cousin of yours,"

"I think it got stolen."

"What?"

fuck, it was must've been taken by the boy thief from earlier. "What hospital did they say they we're taking him?"

"Bed eight motorcyle accident, minor lacerations on his forehead and legs, right ankle suspected to be sprained."

Emma says as she reads his chart. "Mister if you don't mind me asking what happend to your forehead?" pointing to his, seeing marble shaped circles. "Oh wait, you also dropped this earlier from your jacket sir, it's been ringing nonstop." Emma smiles as she hands the patient his phone. "Oh no, no you hold onto it first, I'll just go at the comfort room."

Oh. he'll be back, she thought. Well, that was 20 minutes ago, too long for a bathroom break from a patient who's not suffering from any stomach problems whatsoever. Emma had been running around like a lunatic mother finding for her child before she stumbles and sees you doing your rounds.

"Doc. y/n thank god you're here. The patient in bed five, I-I think he might've ran away," she babbled, while panting from running too much. Seriously, how many patients do they lose in an average day? "Look he has this teddy bears wrapped around his head, and well, he's limp."

Behind her, there exactly stood a man in his early 20's in skinny jeans, with head covered by two plush teddy's, pink and blue. Limping his way out of the exit.

What a day to be an ER doctor, you think to yourself.

"Yeah, yeah, excuse me," the man says hastily before he limply took off, taking one step and a time. You both ran towards him. "Okay sir, this has been fun and all but we seriously have to treat you."

"I'm fine, why don't you believe me, look I can walk okay? just let me go." This man was really trying to be everything but convincing, "Sir if we don't treat that leg of yours, it could to more damage than it is, so listen to me and lie down," you sternly spoke, before assisting him to his bed.

"You don't get it if I don't get out of here, my boss will put me straight in the morgue."

Morgue?

"well are you part of a gang?" You asked without hesitation, Looking at his eyes directly. "W-What, no." the fear in his eyes doubled in sized when he realizes he's been caught. Well he may be part of a gang somehow, but he didn't expect this doctor to ask such direct ones as bait.

"Well this is a hospital. Tell that boss of yours that if he ever comes here, we'll call the security right away to have him thrown in jail, got it?" You assure him, "who wrote this?" seeing a note written in a black marker inlcuding his chart.

Boy thief, must be treated in the most painful way possible.

The boy sighed again, "ah well that has been there when the paramedics brought him in—" emma replied shortly before she was interrupted by the boy, groaning in pain. "It's the punks who shot me." You and emma laughed in amusement, "shot you? with what baby bullets?" Yes dammit, with baby bullets, a toy gun brought him to this condition.

"Well whoever did this is sure an expert in the field, look at these plush teddy's very fitting for a first aid." You mock him playfully as you order emma to get his x-ray checked, "I'll be back for you, nurse emma, call me if he ever tries to escape, again." As you walk away emma hands you a phone, "what is this?" You asked in curiousity, "well that patient in bed eight told me to onto it, but it wouldn't stop ringing so I didn't know what to do."

huh. Why wouldn't a phone owner answer his own phone?

You nodded towards her as you take the phone to see it still ringing, the caller id listing as Big Boss. Oh he really is part of a gang, and a lame one at that. You thought. "Hello?"

Bill sighs in annoyance as he grew tired of running in circles again and again through the white hospital halls, the dim lighting and people swarming around waiting to get treated, makes it harder for bill to retrieve the phone before he hears it ring for the last time and hears a response. "Hello?"

Angel. That's what bill heard, a savior in his time of need. "Hello is this the patient's guardian?," the woman, angel spoke again. bill loses his terrain of thought as he hears it being too close by? He opens one of the curtains behind him as he peaked to see a white wearing coat doctor suturing a patient in hand while holding, wolf's phone.

"well, yeah hello," bill then spoke from where he stood, puffing out his chest, smirking as he observed the doctor in front of him. You turn behind you as you hear an unfamiliar voice before catching up to what's happening, "I'll be back sir," you say before standing up to remove your glove and gauzes in place. Your hair struck in different places but you had never been more heavenly to bill's eyes. "Sir hello, are you the guardian or the patient's gang boss?" what.

"No, what?" bill retracts his statement from earlier, an angel isn't this fierce to make him sweat too much, no, he's part of a super elite team for fucks sake, why is he nervous about this woman questioning him. Pull yourself together.

"Well you answered the phone, does that mean your big boss?," you asked while showing him the caller id in the phone. "Well yeah, technically I am, doc. But hey listen—" you nod in petty aknowledgement before deciding to call the cops number in the keypad. "Hello yes? This is Doctor y/l/n, from Rutherford hospital I'm calling for a—hey what," before you knew it the phone was swiped away from your ear, flying before bill catches it with ease. "Listen, Doctora, y/l/n or whatever, my job is very confidential and I would get in risk if we involve the cops, just give me the phone and we'll leave," bill now smiled, hoping his charm would work on the doctor.

"Why would your job be in risk? So your admitting to be that patient's boss who'll put him in the morgue?" You narrow your eyes at him, before you get your name called by emma again.

"Doc! He espcaped again! Oh no I lost him," emma sprints towards her. seriously? "I would like to continue this Big boss, but I'm afraid I'll have to cut our meeting short by duty calls, excuse me." You ran towards emma as your coat rushes by the wind, meeting her halfway before ordering to call the security for assistance. Meanwhile bill thought he had fallen in love in the most accidental way, in a hospital.

What are the odds of meeting his future wife and savior of an angel on an average break?

_ _

a/n: that was the first chapter, let me know if this was badly written or not, it's my first time writing TvT

#bill skargard x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skargard #marquis de gramont #john wick #marquis vincent de gramont #roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgard smut

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pedrotonin · 1 year ago

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B R I N G T H E W H I S K E Y

Summary: Joel catches you stealing from his brother. He ensures the punishment fits the crime.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

Rating: R

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+ Joel is not a nice person. Smut.

Word count: 1200+

You arrived at Jackson only a few days ago. A group of men on horses scared the living shit out of you while you were hunting for some much needed food. You tried to hide, but they found you, or rather their dog did. It growled and barked, and you had no choice but to show yourself. They'd screamed and pointed their guns at you and threatened to let the dog attack. While you cowered in front of them, thinking your last minute on this godforsaken planet had finally arrived. It hadn't. Once they made sure you weren't infected, they brought you over to their settlement. They took your gun and knife, but you got to keep the rest of your belongings.

A guy named Tommy told you you were welcome to stay, but also free to leave. That was after they held you hostage in a prison like building for a couple of days. Wanting to make sure nobody would come for you. Nobody did, so Tommy took you under his wing. He said he was going to get you your own house, but until then, you were welcome to stay in one of his spare bedrooms. That's where you were currently sitting on the bed, looking at raindrops cascading down the window.

Tommy and his wife had been really kind to you. They'd not only let you stay at their house, but also shared their food and clothes with you. It was nice. They were nice. But you didn't like being here. Actually, you hated it.

You hated people in general. Being let down so many times in your life, you trusted no one anymore. Not easily anyway. That's why you lied when you told them your name.

Jacky. That's what you came up with. It popped in your brain while you were ogling their whiskey collection. Some of it original and some home brewed. You had a couple of good night sleeps and a full stomach, so it was time to leave.

You would wait until midnight and then sneak out. Taking an original bottle of Jack Daniels with you.

When they retire for the night, you wait an hour before you sneak out the front door. Goodbye Jackson.

You hear the soft snorting sound of horses coming from the stables. Horses, how could you forget. You'd steal one of those as well.

You slink towards the stables as quietly as possible. Inside, you grab a saddle and throw it on the first horse that comes into view.

The sound of a trigger being pulled freezes you, and you feel the cold metal of the gun against the back of your head.

"The fuck you think you're doin'."

A deep, male voice, just behind you.

You don't immediately answer him, and he pushes the gun harder against your head.

"Fuckin' answer me!"

You raise your hands and slowly turn around. He is tall, and very, very angry.

"You're that kid living with Tommy," he states.

"I'm not a kid, old man. I'm fucking 25 years old," you hiss. Earning you a backhanded slap across the face.

"Give me the bag," he snarls.

You don't.

"Give.me.the.fucking.bag" he punctuates each word while taking a step towards you. Jezus, is he going to kill you?

You hand it over, and he opens it. Pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels out. Raising his eyebrows.

"What's this? You fuckin' stole this from my brother?"

Brother? Interesting.

His hand curls around your throat. Walking you backward until your back hits the wall. Then he forcefully turns you around, putting your arms behind your back, holding them with just one of his hands. The other pushes your face against the cold, wet wood.

"Ouch, you son of a bitch!" you howl. The sharp wood poking into your cheek.

"You're going to pay for this," he hisses in your ear. "They hung people for less around here."

"No. No! Take the booze! I will leave this place and you'll never see me again! I'll do anything, please!"

He stays quiet for a second. You can feel his large body hovering behind you.

"Anythin' darlin'?"

What? What is he playing at. Well, you sure as hell aren't getting yourself killed over a bottle of whiskey. So yes:

"Anything."

He smirks. His hand leaves your face to tangle in your hair, and he pulls. Hard. Your head snaps to the side.

He kicks your feet apart and moves your arms above your head. He steps closer and nudges his thigh between your legs.

"Be careful what you wish for," he breathes in your ear. You can't help yourself, you outright moan.

"You like being manhandled like this, sugar? Just my luck."

He presses his whole body against your back, pushing his hard cock against your ass.

"Feel that?"

You lower yourself on his thigh a bit more and start grinding it. Hell, it's been so long.

"Fuckin' slut," he whispers.

His hand opens the button of your jeans and he reaches inside to cup your pussy through your underwear. Finding you wet. He tuts.

"If you run, I'll kill you." He lets go of your arms and grabs your shoulders to turn you around.

You take a better look at him. His mustache and beard are streaked with grey. His hair is curly, also greying. Eyes brown, dark, filled with anger and lust. He's much older than you, but handsome. Tall, strong.

"On your knees."

You do as you're told. He opens his jeans and pulls his cock out. It slaps against your chin. Christ, he's big.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out and he wastes absolutely no time, putting his leaking cock inside. You close your lips around him and begin to suck him off.

He grabs your head and fucks your face. You choke and gasp for air. He lets you for a moment but then he pushes himself back inside, hitting your troat. Strings of saliva run down your chin and your eyes water while you struggle to breathe.

"Fuck!!" he moans and without warning he comes. Thick, white ropes of his cum hit your tongue and your troat. You swallow all of it.

You think he'll maybe let you leave now, but he's not finished with you yet. He pulls you to your feet and pushes you against the wall again. He rips your jeans and panties down and drops to his knees behind you.

"What are you d-"

His tongue licks a fat stripe over your dripping cunt. Words fail you, only a loud gasp escapes.

He grabs your thighs and burries his whole face between your legs. Eating you out like a man starved. Pushing one, two and even a third finger deep inside you. Fingering you hard and assaulting your clit with his tongue. It doesn't take very long until you feel your orgasm crash over you. You scream while your pussy contracts around his fingers. He takes them out of you and starts to lick them clean. Slurping as he does. Your eyes widen at the sight.

"I have a better idea," he says while he pulls your jeans up and puts his cock back inside his own.

"You come live at my place. I'll keep you safe and you keep my cock warm."

You stare at him. Is he for real?

"Bring the whiskey," he says as he walks out.

You smile and follow him. Yes, this could work.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal

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winterironrox · 1 year ago

Text

Thoughts On Skrull Rhodey

Forewarning, I do not like Skrhodey so if you don’t want to read someone complaining about them scroll past.

At first, I didn’t think Rhodey being a Skrull was bad. He’s the only Avenger in the show so it made sense to me that they went with that. However, that was before G’iah said Rhodey had been held hostage for a long time, he was in a hospital gown, and Feige and the show’s director specified that Rhodey has been a Skrull since Civil War.

We know that that is not possible. The main reason we know this is because we see him bleed many times after Civil War. His blood is red and there is no phasing when he gets hurt. Feige and those involved could create all kinds of excuses for him being a Skrull since Civil War. She’s a really good actor, she needed to be under the radar so she pretended to be paralyzed, she actually did care about Tony so that was her saying goodbye. But the only thing they could say for the visual evidence is “oh the blood was purple and she did phase. you just didn’t notice in the heat of the moment,” or a funny reason could be that it was all makeup not real blood.

Why did they decide to make Rhodey a Skrull since Civil War? Going by the braces and what makes sense to us we would accept him being a Skrull since Falcon and The Winter Soldier. That connects. They took him when he went to the doctors for a check up. Right? He would probably need to do that after being in a world ending battle. There you go, Marvel. End of discussion. You’re all set. But no they had to go with something that is completely illogical.

I will say the only positive about Rhodey being a Skrull is the trans imagery which is probably how they got Don to agree to it since he is a big trans ally.

My mind has been reeling for days and I think I figured out a way to make this work.

What I’m about to say is probably reaching and lends itself more to fanfic so get ready.

I think Rhodey being a Skrull since Civil War could work since that was before the Radical Skrulls turned on Nick Fury so everyone was more friendly and if they had a squishy scientist on hand. A biologist or geneticist or what have you who had access to people’s DNA and could have possibly made a formula or serum that made a Skrull’s phase longer lasting. Someone like Dr. Helen Cho or a Skrull scientist.

Helen or some other genius scientist could have developed a substance that needed to be injected or ingested every couple days or once a week that made it where if a Skrull was hurt they kept their shift and when their blood is exposed to oxygen it turned red. Or this substance possibly just made the Skrull’s shift semipermanent. So as long as they kept taking the formula they were basically the person they were impersonating in every physical way. Which would explain why she was still paralyzed and why her blood was red.

But when this scientist discovered the Radical Skrull’s intention to turn on Fury they took their creation and fled. Which would explain why she could then walk “normally” and why her blood went back to purple. (So sorry. I can’t remember her name.)

Now this is when the fanfic side of my brain took over.

I’ve heard rumors that RDJ is coming back for Amor Wars and my mind latched onto that since I still try to ignore his death everyday.

I think that when Carol found Nebula and Tony floating in space they could have done a switcheroonie. Going with the idea that Tony was so devastated by losing Peter that he couldn’t return to Earth and therefore he gave into surrender. The recording he left Pepper -don’t hate me Pepperoni stans- included another where he explained the switch so Pepper would know that the Tony coming home wasn’t him.

After finding out, Pepper was rightfully furious but over time she fell in love with Skrull Tony since the only Tony who wouldn’t want to be Iron Man is a fake Tony. Morgan could still be Real Tony’s daughter-or not- but he doesn’t know about her and she was raised by Skrull Tony. The scene where Tony looks at the photo of him and Peter which makes him decide to invent time travel could still work in this scenario. Skrull Tony sees that photo and sees the child that Tony Stark could not return to Earth without. The boy who’s death crushed a man so monumentally that he agreed to let someone else take his place. He sees the man whose grief allowed him to find happiness in the life he abandoned next to the boy who would have had a pseudo little sister if things had played out differently, and of course decides to try and fix what happened.

I honestly haven’t thought about when Steve was skrulled. I just know he was a Skrull when he went back to be with Peggy. Unless MCU writers know absolutely nothing about the man after all these years of writing him they will make it canon.

Steve is obviously a Skrull because no matter how much he could have been missing Peggy, the woman who had a full and happy life without him and who made him promise that he would work to be happy in this new age, he would not be able to keep still for the next 5-6 decades. Steven Grant Fucking Rogers has never been and could never be the twiddle his thumbs do nothing type of person. I mean Hydra is right there. They are coming to his step-grandson’s graduation party. He is not just going to ask them how they take their stake. No absolutely not.

Steve has one guaranteed location, time, and place where Bucky Barnes is going to be at and alone. December 16, 1991. Steve might not go to save Howard or Maria but he would definitely be there to abduct the Winter Soldier and get his Bucky back. In order for a time traveling Steve Rogers to not do anything about the future it has to be a fake one. Skrull Steve probably wouldn’t care about all the things that have and will transpire or doesn’t know about them because he doesn’t have access to Steve’s brain. Also, it’s plausible that the Skrulls wanted to be close to Peggy Carter because of Shield and Hydra. They could have done it a different way but who’s to say that time travel Steve ended up with Peggy in the end.

So yeah I don’t know when Steve was replaced by a Skrull, I just know he was before the last time travel escapade. I do know however that it would be an absolutely cute comic moment for Tony and Steve to wake up together wherever they are being held and have to figure out what the hell happened, how long it’s been, and exactly how the hell their world went to shit.

If Tony and Rhodey were both Skrulls during Endgame that would mean the goodbye between them was for a relationship and people we didn’t even know. The female Skrull impersonating Rhodey could have been saying goodbye to her sister, brother, parent, friend, anyone and we didn’t know it. Tony being a Skrull would also explain why no one used the soul or time stone to save him when he was dying, js.

What are these decisions Marvel? These aren’t comics. You can’t just try something out and then undo it. Think everything out. Please, I’m begging you.

Also, another thing I think would be funny is when Real Tony figures out Skrull Tony invented time travel. He would be so annoyed. “I figured out time travel drunk off my ass at 27. I knew it wasn’t a good idea then and it’s not a good idea now. It’s such a delicate situation. So much could go to shit,” or something like that.

#marvel #fan thoughts #avengers #tony stark #mcu #james rhodes #steve rogers #captian america civil war #secret invasion #secret invasion finale #skrull rhodey #skrulls #marvel fanfic idea #what is going on at marvel

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preciousbarnes · 2 years ago

Text

Remember Me

Chapter 2: Uncertainties

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Bucky is left completely changed from the man you married. A multi-part, on-going series.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags: Memory Loss, Brief Medical Settings, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Fluffy moments

Read Ch. 1 Here

series masterlist coming soon

Bucky slowly blinked his eyes, squinting at the bright white lights in the sterile looking room. There was an incessant beeping coming from some kind of machine with wires leading to little stickers that were attached to him. His head was pounding, his hand coming to rub his forehead as he groaned. Looking around, he became more and more confused. Everything looked so… advanced. And clean. And… new. Seeing something move out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head. There was a man with a metal looking arm, with shoulder length hair, a scruffy beard, and familiar blue eyes. The man moved when he moved, and that’s when he realized. That man looking back at him was him. What the hell? How. He was only 23. He had two real arms before, now this metal one was here? The man in the mirror was easily in his 30s. What was happening?

He rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe it was all a dream. Nonetheless, it was not. He heard the sound of a door sliding open, prompting him to look away from his reflection, and to the two interring the room. He smiled when he recognized a familiar face, until he sees the body it’s attached to.

“St-steve? Is that you?” He calls to him. it is Steve’s face, but on a tall, muscular body. Easily as tall as he is. What happened to his short and skinny, but strong-willed and determined best friend? He sits there feeling so completely lost, watching you and the man who looked so much like Steve, but also not, trade concerned looks.

“B-Bucky, what do you remember last?” The person asks him, voice soft but concerned. He decides in that moment, he likes the sound of your voice. It's peaceful and effortlessly melodic.

“Hold on a second, doll. First I want to know, are you Steve? My best friend? Guy who was about this tall last I saw him?” He asks, holding a hand to his shoulder to demonstrate how tall he remembered Steve being.

The man with Steve’s face cracks a grin, and that’s when Bucky knows it has to be Steve. That grin is so ingrained in his memory, there is no way it isn’t him.

“Yeah, man. It’s me. We got some catching up to do. What’s the last thing you remember?” Steve asks, as he moves to rest a reassuring and comforting hand on your shoulder. Something stirs inside Bucky seeing this. Why did his stomach feel so funny seeing Steve touch you. Some part of his brain was telling him it was wrong, but he didn’t understand why.

“I went back home to my apartment and went to sleep. I has spent the day with Ma and my sisters,” He says, your heart hurting at the mention of his family, and his once simple life.

You stand there silently as Steve begins to give Bucky a very abridged version of his life; how he joined the army with Steve following after getting the Super Soldier serum, which he explained that was why he was taller and much stronger, what happened to him all those years ago, how he had been forced to do some bad things, but had gotten out and gotten better and worked to save people and keep people safe. You glanced to him noticing how Steve had made the choice of just how much he torture and bad things he had experienced and been forced to do. Steve just ghosted the surface. You were kept silent by his commanding and stern stare, telling you he was doing what he thought was best.

Bucky nods along, looking shocked at parts, especially when Steve referenced the fact that there was a time he was held hostage and made to do back things. Even this version of Bucky hated that idea. Steve had always told you that’s what he had admired most about Bucky growing up; his sense of good and always wanting to help, never hurt.

“Okay, so, I was captured in war by bad guys, given a version of the Super Soldier serum stuff, was given a metal arm, made to do bad stuff, put to sleep on and off for decades, found by you, and now I’m better and do good stuff?” He asks, trying to wrap his head around it all. His life sounds like something from a messy movie franchise, he thinks to himself.

Steve nods, giving a small chuckle realizing how it all must sound.

“So, how old am I?” He asks.

“You’re 106,” You answer softly.

His eyes widen as he does the mental math, realizing that means he is alive in the year 2023.

He is quiet for a moment, lost in thought. You and Steve give each other concerned glances again, hating how hard this is for him.

He looks up to you suddenly, a questioning look on his face.

“So, I know why Steve would be here telling me this news, but that leaves me wondering what you’re doing in here with me. What’s your name, doll?” He asks you, giving you an easy going smile. You quickly understand why Steve referred to young Bucky as a lady’s man.

“Y/n,” you tell him softly.

“So you must be important to me for you to be in here,” he deducts.

“I’d hope so, Buck” Steve mutters, leading you to lightly elbow him in the ribs, glaring at him, signaling now is not a time for jokes.

“I’m your wife, Bucky,” You say to him, holding your hand up to show him the ring nestled on your left ring finger. It was the ring that had belonged to his mother, making him take in a breath suddenly at the sight.

“Whoa,” he utters, eyes wide.

You stand there awkwardly, nervous about his reaction.

“How?” He asks, wide eyed.

You smile softly, walking over to his bedside. As you walk over, Steve leaves the room in efforts to give you both some privacy.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his hand. He nods and you reach down and grab it in yours, your thumb rubbing his knuckles softly.

“We met in Wakanda, a place you went and recovered. I was there working on new technologies and was someone who helped design your arm.” You tell him.

“Wow. Beautiful and smarter than me,” He says, in the same soft tone, making you laugh. He smiles seeing you laugh, deciding that that is now his favorite view.

Before he can tell you that, Tony and Dr. Banner are walking into the room, an intrigued expression overtaking their faces when they see you both holding hands. Seeing them looking, you pull your hands away from Bucky’s, much to his dismay. He frowns a bit, missing your little cold fingers already.

After an awkward pause, Dr. Banner breaks the silence.

“Hi Mr. Barnes, I first want to say I’m sorry; I’m sure this is all quite overwhelming at the moment,” The soft spoken doctor tells him, looking genuinely sorry for what Bucky was going through. Dr. Banner was always kind to Bucky. While they weren’t close by any means, Dr. Banner understood Bucky in a way others could only empathize with. Dr. Banner was personally familiar with having a part of yourself that was out of your own control, much like the Winter Soldier was for Bucky.

“Please, call me Bucky, doc, as I understand you literally know me better than I know myself now,” he jokes, making Tony and Bruce smile slightly but sadly.

“Okay, Bucky. As you know, your memory has been negatively affected from a mission you were on. We have the machine with us in our possession, and were conducting research on it as well as studying methods to potentially reverse the damage. We have reason to believe your memories are not permanently gone, but rather locked away in your subconscious. You may find yourself experiencing feelings or instincts you don’t remember having, but older Bucky has so you will feel them,” Dr. Banner explains, as Bucky nods along.

“Would that explain why I felt a bit grumpy when Steve touched her?” He asks.

At this, Tony laughs.

“What’s wrong, Bucky? Afraid good ole stars and stripes is going to steal your girl?” He chuckles, making you and Bucky laugh and even Dr. Banner cracks a grin.

“No, I just knew there was some part of me, some reason that did not like it. The being married thing kind of explains that. Is that a good sign? Does that mean you’re right about the sub-whatever thing you said?” He asks, making you smile.

“Subconscious, honey,” you correct gently.

“Yeah, that,” He says, before softly thanking you.

Bruce gives a genuine smile and nods, taking note of what Bucky told him.

The doctor and Tony run through a few more diagnostic questions and assessments with Bucky. You stand to the side as Bucky answers all their questions thoroughly, telling them both that he wants to help them help him. He looks to you when he tells them both that he wants his memories back. You give him a smile that is tinged with a bit of sadness, hating what Bucky is going through but determined to support him.

When Tony asks, uncharacteristically softly, if Bucky remembers any of his time when he was captured and tortured and forced to do things against his will, you automatically reach for Bucky’s hand. You hate this, not so much that he’s forgotten that horrible time in his life; what you hate is the fact that at some point he might remember it all and have to process it all once again. He’s done so much work in therapy to get through those memories and make amends with those that he could, including Tony, and you worry this will inevitably set him back to square one.

Bucky gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he shakes his head, telling Tony he doesn’t remember anything like that.

After taking a few more notes, they leave, letting you know that Bucky is free to leave for now, as there's nothing they can currently do until they conduct more research. You and Bucky walk out of the room and down the hall, you smiling at Bucky’s child like wonder as he takes in all the technology he can see as you exit the compound and get in the car to be driven back to your shared apartment.

“What do you think of all of this?” you ask, as you both get situated in the back seat of the car, the agent driving giving you both privacy and not interacting.

“It’s so different. Everything looks like it's out of a made-up movie,” He tells you, even in awe of the fancy car you both were in.

The car ride is short and sweet, getting you back to the apartment in record time.

You take some time to show Bucky around, feeling soft as you see Bucky stop in the living room and excitedly point at a collage of your wedding pictures that you had framed hanging up. He lets out a low whistle as he looks at them all.

“Gosh, look at ya, doll. You’re so stunning,” He whispers. You thank him, a blush rising up your neck to your cheeks.

You grasp his hand once again, leading him to the bedroom where you both silently change. Bucky, uncharacteristically shyly stripping down to his boxers. There’s a tint of pink to his cheeks, almost making you coo at him.

“It’s alright, Jamie, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you tell him, winking. His cheeks get even pinker, and for a moment you worry you may have overstepped, remembering how new and different everything is for him.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. If you want, I can sleep in our guest room?” You offer, getting ready to grab your pillow off the bed.

He walks over to you, stopping you from picking up the pillow.

“No, it’s okay doll. I’m just a little nervous. You’re used to sleeping next to me, while I can't say I’ve ever really… stayed the whole entire night with someone before,” He explains.

Your eyebrows raise nearly to your hairline.

“So you were quite the ladies man, huh?” You chuckle, making him laugh as well.

“Yeah, I was at one time, doll. Not anymore,” He declares.

You look down, once again playing with the ring on your hand anxiously. Bucky quickly picks up on your nervousness, asking you what’s wrong. You sigh, before explaining.

“For you, that time as a playboy was just yesterday, and now you’re a married man. It’s a big change,” You explain, voice faint and showing your insecurity.

“Hey now, doll. Please don’t look so sad. Pretty face like yours should never frown. Yes, it’s a change, but a welcomed one. Did, I guess I’d call him future me, ever tell you my biggest desire in life?” He asks you smoothly.

“To help people?” You suggest, making him smile. He gently tucks a piece of unruly hair behind your ear, before cupping your face in both his hands. The motion is painfully similar to something your Bucky did often, making your heart clench in your chest a bit. Yes, Bucky was here with you, alive. But it was a different than your Bucky, who remembered the last 4 years you had been together through so much.

“Okay, after helping people. But even before that, I wanted a family. A life with a lovely gal. A little family of my own. And for me that starts with a marriage. I’ve got that, and somehow future me got lucky enough to have you,” he expresses to you.

“How are you so sure you’re lucky? You don’t even know me, Buck,” You ask hesitantly.

“I just know. You’ve got this glow about you. The kind of glow my momma has. Any person I’ve met with that glow has always been good,” He reveals, instantly choking you up. He had never said that to you before, but you felt honored. You knew his mother was quite a woman, and to be compared to her so reverently made your heart swell.

You smile as you feel tears building in your eyes, reaching out and giving the man in front of you tight hug. He wraps you in his arms tenderly, resting his head on top of yours as he soothingly rocks you. After a few moments pass, you both find yourselves climbing into bed. You reach over and turn off the light, nestling yourself under the covers. Sleep finds you both quickly, before you can worry about what the next day will bring.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #preciousbarnes fics #bucky barnes fanfic

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strwberri-milk · 2 years ago

Text

pov you just finished the archon question for 3.5 and you have THOUGHTS

first of all before i even start the spoiler thing i have a love hate relationship w the lengths of the quest. i kinda do wish they were a little longer but also?? a bitch was held hostage in game and i gotta go to sleep so good thing i managed to finish

kaeya my sweet youre so <3333

i am Considering combing through the wiki to piece together lore and derive my theories/thoughts but im kinda busy but also,,,my entire degree has prepped me for this kinda work so maybe?? oneday,,,anyway feel free to go under the keep reading and just see what happens in my brain blurb when im not writing/editing/caring about whats up LMAO

anyway ?? i rmr seeing this theory video on tiktok (i think their user is like?? minsly or smth?? they do theory caps on tiktok) talkking about how sumeru is close to khaenri'ah and how kaeya could be half sumerian which if thats the case explains why hes not a white man despite every other khaenri'ahn we've met being one (albedo definiely helps w this since?? i assume he was created after Generic Khaenriahn so i assume if he looks like that fair skin/fair hair is indeed the standard)

not only that but someone said?? that the voice sounded like kaeya w a filter and i dont fully agree w that - i dont konw, i dont think it sounds like him but i do think they have a similar cadence/diction?? sounds like an emo kaeya's words but isn't really in his voice. i might listen to it a few more times to see if i still agree?? but i do think the cadence felt similar

anyway?? kaeya?? descending DIRECTLY from the abyss founder?? thats wild - i knew he was regent but? idk im just a little confused how these two both play together and im understanding it as he cold be!! having two titles then - also, not him playing innocent i think hes aware of his bloodline but maybe?? not the full implications

definitely interesting how it seems hillichurls/khaenri'ahns can die?? i wonder how that gets acheived and how that plays w kaeya. if its estabished only pure blooded khaenri'ahsn were given immortality and the other mixed ones turned to churls then?? kaeya cant be half sumeran or anything else unless he's got smth else tht makes him immune. someone did point out that his diamond is a lot smaller which again?? maybe bc hes mixed but idk bc again it contradicts the other thing

omg also?? i fucking hated how he revealed his roots - it felt rushed and he was like "oh lmao yea im from this nation" and as far as im concerned nobody other than diluc andnow the traveller know but?? it was just,,,so lacklustre but whatever im guessing this was meant to open up his character and we'll see what happens

#from the gardens #genshin spoilers #kaeya better come back this set up?? nonexistent #anyway thanks danslief always can trust you for interesting lore drops uwu

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lavender-annd-lilac · 2 years ago

Note

He's always so chipper.

I already hate him more than Emily Blunt’s character hated Anne Hathaway’s character in The Devil Wears Prada

my old job was super strict

So, if someone told me a job was “super strict”, I would probably assume they meant something like 2 min washroom breaks every 8h and less like, call your boss “boss”

And I still can't believe how lucky I am to have the best boss in the world

chill with the praise kid, not like you’re working for Kim Jong-un here. Just be a normal employee lmao

🙄🙄🙄

"I know it's not the usual but we all deserve a treat from time to time."

This child was raised by corporate slogans. His mom is Mrs. L’Oréal “because you’re worth it” Paris, and his dad is Mr. “have a break, have a Kit Kat”

Will Ferrell’s character from Elf is his godfather

The blue-tinted lighting of the editorial is lackluster.

Hey, it’s not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean. And that blue represents millions of dollars of countless jobs

youtube

Your wrap skirt exposes more than your knee but the top of your sheer stocking. You fix it quickly.

You decide to give him Lindy's suite since she won't be there.

My paranoid brain: He killed her

"I'm stronger," he winks as he wheels ahead of you, "this way, mademoiselle."

I’m having acute second hand embarrassment rn. My soul just left my fucking body like Don Draper’s did when he had to watch Megan perform Zou Bisou Bisou

Rude? No, like I said, best boss I've ever had

Lmao if this was any other story or if he was like, a female employee I’d pass him a note like: “who hurt u? blink twice if u are being held hostage” bc this is some over the top Handmaid’s tale “blessed be the fruit”, “yes, we are very happy” shit

"I do happen to be American," Peter says dumbly.

"How absolutely adorable, I could spoon him up and eat him with a nice sorbet."

I could never be around these ppl bc I’d constantly just be like “is this person a low key cannibal, or just French?”

🤔

"Wow, is that Shaq?" He looks across the aisle, "I didn't think he'd be into fashion."

Not my dumbass thinking he meant SHAKIRA before he said “he” and then I looked up the name and it’s the eco tank printer guy

He snickers as he leans even closer, retracting his hand, only to drape his arm over your shoulders, "an editor-in-chief with a younger man, too? The scandal."

Big Applebees Steve energy tbh

Assistant Peter or Best Friend's Ex Bucky?

Everybody Talks

Warnings: unwanted touches, suggestions of more.

Please send in feedback if so inclined. Thank you all 💜

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

"Rough night?" Peter sets down a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma drawing a sigh from your lungs.

You look up from your mindless scrolling and hide a yawn behind your hand. He smiles as he slides the cup closer and takes a step back, a portfolio under his arm. His youth irritates you as much as it piques your envy. He's always so chipper.

"Here you go, boss," he puts the leather folder on the other side of your desk, "this is the mock-up for the Winter spread."

"Mmm," you nod but make no move to take the folder, instead opting for the blonde roast with a touch of oat milk. He always gets it exactly right. "Thanks. Again, boss seems a bit... heavy."

"Sorry, habit," he shrugs and you notice the line of his shoulders, the way the line of his throat leads down below his collar, a hint at the broad chest that makes his buttons strain, "my old job was super strict."

"And we're not," you challenge, "Parker, you've worked here two years."

"It's gone fast, what can I say? And I still can't believe how lucky I am to have the best boss in the world."

"Calm down, you'll get a stellar reference you click on outlook and nearly purr as you have your first sip, "what is this?"

You look at the cup and give it a sniff.

"They had a new flavour in the lounge, sugar cookie."

"Ah."

"I know it's not the usual but we all deserve a treat from time to time."

"No problem, it's good," you set the cup down and rub your cheek as you cradle your chin in your hand, "thanks, Parker. You can get back to it."

He hesitates, lingering, "you sure you don't need anything else?"

"You know I didn't hire you to be my coffee jockey, you got enough on your plate."

"Yes, bo--" he stops himself and uses your name instead, "you know where to find me."

"Sure do," you say as your phone screen lights up and draws your attention. Another call from your husband. He can wait. Or rot for all you care.

❤️‍🔥

"Norman, I don't care-- No, no, I'm not one of your cronies. Or your son. Don't start that with me," you huff into the speaker, your screen saver bouncing against the walls of your monitor, "we talked about this already. You want to go, go. It will be alone. You've known about Paris all year. I can't miss it."

"Darling, you really are intractable. It's an anniversary gift and again, you want to work--"

"Yes, I do. It's my job. It's the same thing every year, Norman," you snap, "and don't begin to lecture me on work trips and family obligations, alright? How many nights have I slept alone while you're out schmoozing your business partners or late at the lab. If you want to talk about this, call Dr. Suzanne and I'll be happy to have her advise."

"Ugh, I do love your fire, dear, but it burns hot," he snarls.

"Oh shut up." You hang up and toss your phone on your desk and lean back in your chair with a growl. You don't know why you don't just go to the lawyer already. Well, you know, the same excuse as always. You're too busy.

You shake your head and roll forward, swiping away the idle screen and setting back to your itinerary. Before Norman, you weren't like this. You liked being home but he made work your only escape. It was an easy excuse not to be entirely alone.

❤️‍🔥

You're barely away as you slowly flip through the pages of the portfolio. The blue-tinted lighting of the editorial is lackluster. You don't recall giving Seasonal Affective Disorder as a theme. You scribble in your notebook and chew the end of the pen. You really don't want to have a whole new shoot but some of these photos are lit like shit.

There's a gentle knock and you lurch back in your chair. Most of the office is gone by now.

"Come in," you call over your desk as you rest your fingertips on the glossy page.

A bouquet of flowers enters. For a moment you don't notice the body on the other side. Peter holds the huge basket of petals in his arms as he angles through, his reddish hair barely visible over the top. He puts them down on the round table by the window.

"These came for you," he says as he faces you, giving a sniff to his shirt, "they smell nice."

"I can only imagine who sent them," you grumble, Norman's oldest trick. You're well past him buying forgiveness. "If it wasn't such a hassle, I'd have you dump them in the bin."

"If that's what you want--"

"Parker, no," you scoff, "what are you still doing here."

"I got a bit carried away planning for Paris. I didn't go last year so... I'm kinda excited."

"Yeah, I... guess I take it for granted," you roll the pen between your fingers and put it down, "you need to go."

"And what about you?" He counters.

"I'm headed out," you say as you close the portfolio, "promise."

He nods, his brown eyes warm and placid as he watches you stand. You give an awkward smile as your knee gives a pop. You're really starting to feel the long work days. He looks down, you assume because of the noise and you do too. Your wrap skirt exposes more than your knee but the top of your sheer stocking. You fix it quickly.

"Uh," his throat bobs, "yeah, I'll get going, boss."

You want to correct him but you're too embarrassed. You wait for him to go before you give yourself a thorough lookover. Everything else is exactly where it belongs. Great, just the young assistant seeing the grumpy old lady's thigh, no big deal.

🤛

It's rainy in Paris.

It hardly matters to Peter as you cross the airport with bags in tow and he babbles on about all the things he's read about. Lindy delayed her flight at the last moment and Howard always came early and left sooner. You try to be patient, try to remember when you were an intern in New York for the first time, but you're drawn thin. Norman didn't even say goodbye.

You get a taxi and give the Hotel's name. It's more expensive so the driver needs no direction. You tip him and Peter follows you out. He follows you up to the grand archway entrance and gives a noise of awe as you cross the lobby. You decide to give him Lindy's suite since she won't be there.

He gleefully takes his keycard and you check your phone. Yep, nothing. Norman's past hounding you. You're as infuriated as you are relieved.

"Here," Peter grabs your suitcase before you can, "I got it."

"They have bellboys--"

"I'm stronger," he winks as he wheels ahead of you, "this way, mademoiselle."

You could laugh at his little act. You trail behind him to the elevator and he lets you in ahead of him. The ascent has you slightly dizzy and you step off thankfully. You check your keycard and point him in the right direction.

You thank him, almost reaching for a bill from your wallet to give him, and catch yourself.

"Anything else?" He asks as he rolls your suitcase to stand against the wall.

"No, Parker, that's fine. Thank you."

"Peter," he says, "two years and you still call me Parker."

"I'm... sorry," you say softly, realising how you reproached him for simply calling you boss. "P- Peter, if I've been rude these last few weeks, I apologise. I've had a lot going on and it's not an excuse to take it out on you."

"Rude? No, like I said, best boss I've ever had."

You nod and let out a sigh, "well, I'll... see you tomorrow morning."

"Bright and early, mademoiselle," he grins, "have a good one."

He spins on his heel and strides out lightly. You close the door behind him and groan as it clicks, the hours in a plane seat twinge in your hips. You have to try to enjoy this trip, if only to spite Norman.

❤️‍🔥

"You can have Lindy's seat," you say as you lead Peter amid the crowds, "wouldn't look good to have an empty seat with our name on it. Especially in the front-- Maria!" You interrupt yourself as you great the silver-haired designer, "so wonderful to see you again. Thank you so much for the gift basket."

"Thank you for the editorial," she says in her lilted baritone, "oh my, have we traded in the old model?"

She tweaks a brow in Peter's direction and his cheeks redden as you peek over at him. You give a soft laugh, not enough to embarrass him.

"This is my assistant, Peter Parker. He's a photographer as well."

"Peter Parker," Maria drawls out, "what an... American name."

"I do happen to be American," Peter says dumbly.

"How absolutely adorable, I could spoon him up and eat him with a nice sorbet."

"Uhhh," Peter gives a squint.

"Don't let us keep you," you gently touch Maria's elbow, "we should find our seats."

She passes on as another voice calls out her name. You continue on to the crowded runway and edge along the front row. You sit and smooth your skirt, a vintage designer piece chosen deliberately for the event. An editor-in-chief can't look a mess even if they feel one. Peter looks good enough in a Gucci button up and slacks, hair tidy enough to seem as if he belongs. You can't help but notice the Louis Vuitton loafers.

"Are those new?" You ask.

"Oh, uh, have a friend who tends to hoard nice things," he shrugs, "and that dress?"

"Not new," you assure him.

"Still, it looks good."

"Comes with the territory. Everyone's here competing and in the front row, the press will be sure to get a couple snaps."

"Wow, is that Shaq?" He looks across the aisle, "I didn't think he'd be into fashion."

"Like I said, people come to be seen and they are seen," you say.

"Oh, right," he looks around and his eyes round. There's already a long lens aimed in your direction, "it hasn't even started yet."

"Yeah, there's really no start or end, it just happens," you say, "last year wasn't particularly great for us. Howard got a bit... tipsy so he's skipping it this year."

"Ah," he nods and smooths his shirt. You try not to pay attention as the fabric draws taut over his chest.

Another guest claims the chair next to you and you greet them, another editor, and settle in as seats begin to feel. The anticipation builds until the room grows dim. The runway lights up with shades of rose. The crowd quiets and Maria comes out to introduce her collection.

As the first model comes back, you make sure to keep your posture straight. You've done this enough times to be aware of every tick and move you make. You have a magazine to represent and right now, it's the only thing going right in your life. You watch the designs and give a thought arch of your brow, the colors are interesting but the cut doesn't quite fit.

You feel a tickle on your leg but keep your focus on the runway. Then the warmth spread across your leg and squeezes you through your skirt. You flick your lashes in shock as Peter leans over as he feels your thigh, "I like the colours..."

"What are you doing?" You withhold your chagrin as you move your lips subtly, focusing on keeping your composure.

"Just wanted to get your attention..." he whispers, "and the press. Imagine what they'll say."

"Peter, get your hand off me." You warn under your breath.

"It'll definitely piss Norman off, won't it?" He snickers as he leans even closer, retracting his hand, only to drape his arm over your shoulders, "an editor-in-chief with a younger man, too? The scandal."

"Parker--"

"This isn't appropriate."

"Don't worry, boss," he brushes his nose along your cheek, "it's not all for the press. I really am going to fuck you."

#peter perker #peter parker x reader #hilarious and I love it #Youtube

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ohthatstragic · 2 years ago

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Could you write something with a shy reader for Rooster? 🫣

I have multiple forms of severe anxiety and get extremely overwhelmed in crowds unless I have someone I trust with me and I’m allowed to hold their hand, so I thought it might be cute for maybe Rooster taking his partner (or even just his friend, who they share feelings for each other bc friends to lovers is iconic) to meet the other pilots and he realizes they’re starting to get a bit fidgety so he just immediately takes their hand or puts his arm around them, not calling much attention to their anxiety, and silently comforting them and helping them become more at ease around his friends 🥺

Anxious Attachments - b.b

a/n: hello there, and thank you for requesting such a sweet thing :,) i'm so sorry for the long wait, there is just a lot of requests to work through, and also life! i hope you enjoy this anon <3

i am working through them all! i promise <333

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: rooster x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing once or twice i think, fluff hehe

wc: 1,507

summary: as above!

Every night you lay in the shared bed between you and Rooster, you always thought he had been sent to you by a Guardian Angel - or something along the lines of that. He was the perfect man to you. A six-foot-tall bundle of care and love. How you were so lucky to have him love you... it was just something you could never get your head around. The two of you had met through mutual friends at a birthday party a couple years back, and ever since the moment you laid eyes on each other, you'd been inseparable. He'd grown to love each and every part of you through the ups and downs of your relationship, and you were so grateful to how accepting and caring he was towards your anxiety.

Today of all days, you were going to meet his friends, and you couldn't be more terrified. Of course, Rooster had reassured you multiple times that they were the best people in the world and that they'd obviously love you. The anxiety and overthinking in your brain of course held you hostage and twisted his words into something along the lines of: they'll probably hate you and talk shit about you after you've turned your back.

"You almost ready to go, baby?" Rooster poked his head around the bedroom door, a pair of fingers wrapping around the wood. A happy grin worked it's way onto his lips as he stared at you, admiring you in all your beauty. You turned to face him, a nervous smile painting your face. "You look beautiful, honey." Rooster sighed with the same cheerful grin and brought himself into the room, slowly padding over to you with open arms. You felt a burning blush creep onto your cheeks as he let his big brown eyes rake over your dressed figure.

"Thanks, Roo," You said back with a quiet giggle, happily accepting his hug as he wrapped his strong arms around your smaller figure. "Are they all there already?" You asked, voice muffled as you had pressed your face into his chest.

"Yeah," He hummed, still keeping you wrapped up underneath him. You felt so safe in his arms, and in all honesty - you never, ever wanted to leave. "I'm gonna be beside you the whole time, baby." Rooster added after a short while of silence, knowing that there was most likely a war going on in your mind. He'd been with you long enough to know how your anxiety fucked with your head before going out somewhere to a foreign land. That land being a bar full of raucous naval pilots.

"I know, I know," You mumbled back, pulling your head out of the safety of his big chest. You looked up at your tall and tanned boyfriend and a small smile creeped onto your lips. "I wish I could stay here forever." You said, leaning your chin onto him. Rooster smiled down at you and chuckled, his teeth poking out from underneath his moustache.

"Me too, honey, me too." Rooster muttered with a gentle sigh, and leant his head down to press a soft kiss to your lips, reluctantly loosening his arms around you. You bit back the whine that threatened to slip from you as Rooster let his arms fall from you, your eyes still trained on each other. "Ready to go?" He asked you, taking your hands in his own. With a hesitant smile you nodded at him, silently answering his question. A grin spread across his face and you instantly felt part of your worry melt away as you watched his eyes crease and his moustache grow wide in a show of happiness.

****

The bar was buzzing with life as Rooster and you walked in together. Your eyes flicked around the room, crowds and seas of people dotting the tables and booths scattered throughout the bar. You clung to Rooster's arm, your chest suddenly feeling tight and barely breathable. Rooster noticed the sudden change in your grip on his arm, and he glanced down at you, worry in his eyes.

"You okay?" Your boyfriend whispered in your ear, making you look up at him quickly with a frantic look in your eye. Not wanting to be a nuisance, you nodded and put on a fake smile, encouraging him to keep walking.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." You smiled up at him and he stared at you for a moment, not totally convinced that you were telling the truth. Rooster didn't want to press you so he accepted your words and walked towards the group of his friends you came to meet; a concerned smile playing on his lips. He pressed a quick, soothing kiss to the top of your head and you felt a little less on edge, though the bubbling anxiety within you was still there, waiting to pounce.

As the two of you wandered through the crowds of people in the bar, you soon caught sight of some beige-coloured uniforms, and you put two and two together. "Is that them?" You asked quickly, glancing up at Rooster who still had you glued to his side. He looked down at you with a beaming grin and nodded, before his attention was cast away from you by a shout of his name.

"Rooster!" A female voice shouted from behind the wall of beige uniforms, it suddenly parting to reveal a gorgeous, tanned brunette woman. Rooster's arm was still around you as he walked you to the pilot who had called his name. "You must be Y/N." She beamed at you, her big brown eyes boring a hole into you.

"The one and only," You chuckled quietly, glancing up at Rooster for help. The naval aviator caught sight of your pleading look and immediately took control of the situation. A silent sigh of relief left your body.

"Y/N, this is Phoenix, Phoenix this is Y/N." He chimed in with a smile as his hand left your back. Phoenix, that must be her call-sign, you thought.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." Phoenix's grin never left her cheeks as she glanced between you and Rooster, a cheeky glint in her eye. "Rooster never shuts up about you, by the way." She winked. The aforementioned pilot groaned at her words and you couldn't help but laugh, the feeling of anxiety returning to your body.

"Well I hope that everything Rooster's said is good." You joked, another amused laugh slipping from your lips. Before Phoenix could reply, a pair of tall men dressed in the same uniform stepped beside her with curious smirks. One was a strikingly handsome blonde, and the other was a similar height with black hair and a darker complexion with a bright, wide smile.

"We were wonderin' when Rooster was gonna bring the missus to meet us," The blonde chirped, smirk still sitting pretty on his face as he shared a glance with the pilot to his left. "Y/N, right?" He looked to you, holding out a hand for you to shake. You instantly felt like you'd been choked as Rooster's attention had been curbed by Phoenix after she asked him a question that required more than one brain cell to answer.

"Um, yeah," You replied, politely accepting the man's handshake and pulling away quickly as soon as he released your hand. The anxiety was becoming too much to handle and you started to pick at your fingers as you stared at the two pilots. "It's nice to meet you." You said with a weak smile, totally oblivious to the damage that you were causing to your hands.

"I'm Coyote, and this is Hangman," Coyote said with a kind smile, throwing a loose arm around Hangman's neck as you smiled back at them politely, praying that Rooster was going to finish up with Phoenix soon. "Rooster's told us a lot about you." He grinned, folding his arms against his chest.

"All good things?" You chuckled quietly, nibbling down on your bottom lip in an attempt to silence the anxious thoughts that were invading your mind. It felt like a storm had suddenly swarmed your head, and it was wearing your down quickly. You needed Rooster sooner than later. Speak of the devil, a pair of large, warm hands suddenly slipped around your waist and in response you whipped your head to look up at the owner, your heart skipping a beat once you realised who it was.

"It's always good things, honey," Rooster grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple and you instantly melted into his touch, your eyes closing momentarily as you savoured the way he felt against you. "You okay?" Rooster's silky voice brought you out of your thoughts and back into reality, and you smiled, leaning into his warm body.

"I'm perfect now." You replied quietly, looking up to catch a glimpse of his big, brown eyes that you'd grown to love and adore so dearly. You were so thankful for Rooster, and yet again you found yourself lost in your thoughts about him, wondering how the hell you were so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

my masterlist

how to request something

tag list:

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@shakespear-picaso-lovechild

@risingtripletaurus

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drakenology · 4 years ago

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the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass.

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where.

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle.

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze.

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone.

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card.

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background.

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud.

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife.

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?”

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task.

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy.

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started.

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs.

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip.

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.”

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg.

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you.

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl.

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms.

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot.

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled.

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to.

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye.

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks.

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms.

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock.

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza?

you were both fucking insane.

#bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha todoroki #bnha kirishima #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader

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fraddit · 3 years ago

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I wanted to do a fic rec list for buddie, but also I hate deciding things and I'm bad at writing pretty things about the fics I like. So I just went through my roughly 200 ao3 buddie bookmarks, pulled out the ones that, as stated above, made my brain go !!!, and put them in alphabetical order.

There's 50 fics in total, so I broke it down to 5, more manageable, posts of 10 fics each. This is the first post. I hope you enjoy.

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

a flower in a gun (a bird in flight) by @extasiswings (T, 3k)

Even if Buck felt the same—and Eddie isn’t convinced of that, doesn’t have the arrogance to assume—what right does he have to say please, to say wait, to ask Buck to put his life on hold indefinitely while Eddie sorts through the tangled mess in his head in the hope that one day he’ll finally be ready? He can’t be that selfish. Especially not with Buck. [Or: in the aftermath of the shooting, love endures.]

a hundred little pieces by @renecdote (G, 3k)

The tap is bloody, the sink stained red, paper towels wadded up and abandoned in it, soaked with blood, and Eddie can taste his heart in his throat, sour and metallic, because he’s doing the math and—shit. Kitchen + blood + blood thinners = only bad things. (Multiplied by Buck, which equals Eddie’s blood pressure jumping through the roof.) In which Eddie takes care of Buck.

And if you swear that you’re alright, I’m not gonna try and change your mind by @homerforsure (T, 8k)

"Buck wants to shake him. He’s staring at him right now and Eddie looks haunted. He looks exhausted, like he could sleep for a hundred years, and there’s a wildness in the depths of his eyes as he talks about moving on that betrays how desperately he wants it to be true and how much of a lie it really is. Eddie looks the way Buck’s sure he looks right now and if Eddie would just say that he’s not okay, Buck might feel a little less alone. A little less crazy. A little less broken." Buck and Eddie both struggle after being held hostage.

and longer by far by @buckactuallys (T, 14.5k)

“Eddie’s been married once, and after Shannon asked him for a divorce and then died before they could do anything about it, he figured that was it for him. One marriage with all its ups and downs is enough for a lifetime. Granted, he didn’t think he’d fall in love with Buck and be lucky enough for that love to be returned.” OR Everyone seems to expect Eddie to propose to Buck any minute now, which is annoying because Eddie doesn’t want to get married again. He's sure of that. Or is he?

at the kitchen table by @oatflatwhite (T, 1.5k)

“Have you ever thought about us? Together?” * Post-5.03. Eddie's single. Buck's not. They talk about the elephant in the room.

Bases Loaded by @lamardeuse (E, 2k)

Eddie asks to go slow.

This fic is a lovely piece about Buck being patient with Eddie while he slowly gets used to the idea of being sexually intimate with another man.

Before the Night Fades by @milenadaniels (T, 8.5k)

“I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box. “Okay?” “Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who." --- Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

Please read this fic. It's a very funny and well written outsider pov. A true gem.

Burn a bridge, learn how to swim by WatermelonShots (M, 13k)

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

This is the first part of the Burn a bridge, learn how to swim series, which is maybe my number one favorite fic series for Buddie. The internal monologues are so amusing and awkward and charming.

Buy Back the Secrets by @littlespooneven (T, 19k)

He casts his gaze to the right, to the voice he’d heard a minute ago and the hand still on his shoulder. And, well. Okay. So Buck may have just been unconscious for an indeterminable length of time but he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he says the guy leaning over his bedside is one of the most attractive people he’s seen in a long time. Especially when his face splits into a smile that rivals the brightness of the hospital lights that almost just fucking blinded Buck a second ago. “Welcome back, hotshot,” the guy says and it sounds fond – familiar – and Buck honestly has no idea who this guy is. His brown hair is dishevelled on top of his head and his eyes look tired but then Buck notices the LAFD t-shirt so- alright. Someone from the firehouse, maybe? But he’s pretty sure he’d remember a face like that. * After getting hurt on a call, Buck wakes up thinking it's 2018. AKA Buck can't remember who Eddie is but he's pretty sure everyone's lying when they say they're "just friends."

Ciara is the one who lured me into the buddie fandom. Any fic by her is worth a read, but this is one of my favorites.

Close My Eyes and Stumble (Right Into Your Love) by @hmslusitania (M, 21.5k)

Eddie's PTSD is just that little bit worse and when he moves to Los Angeles, instead of joining the LAFD, he joins dispatch. Which is all good and fine, except for this one firefighter he keeps ending up talking to.

This lovely fic is an AU where Eddie is the one who works at dispatch in s1 instead of Abby.

#buddie fic #buddie fic rec #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fox #911 #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #fraddit buddie fic recs #shut up fraddit

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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years ago

Text

Supply Closets and Shiny Badges (NR)

The Billionaire’s Daughter masterlist

Word count: 1.6k

“So let me get this straight, you thought you were gone for how long?” the man asked as he rubbed his forehead. You could see that, behind the black eyepatch, he was a bit baffled by the entirety of the situation.

“I-I don’t know. I lost count but...I thought it was only a few weeks,” you responded from an office chair at the conference table as the director paced back and forth across from you.

“We thought you were dead, Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned through gritted teeth, a scowl permanently gracing her face.

“I wasn’t far from it. And what is your problem right now?” you snapped back, spinning in your chair to face her on the other side of the room.

“You went rogue and infiltrated HYDRA, and you aren’t even an agent! I mean, how stupid-”

“Agent Romanoff, that’s enough. Go take a walk, get some coffee,” Fury ordered.

“But, sir-”

“Romanoff, go.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a sigh.

“Tell me again. What went down after you were abducted?” he asked you once more.

“They knocked me out and took me to some facility. I had no idea where, but I found out I was in Germany after I escaped. At first, they just...tortured me, I guess is what you’d call it. They wanted me to tell them what I knew一 how much intel I had taken.”

“And you didn’t give it up?”

“I didn’t tell them a thing. I had no idea how much time was passing— I was in pretty bad shape— but after a while, the boss, Meier, moved me to a different cell. This one had a bunch of equipment. They gave me a bunch of their blueprints and designs. They wanted me to tweak them and bring ‘em to life.”

“You didn’t do that, either,” he concluded with a raised brow.

“Obviously not. I built an EMP, a bomb, and canisters of toxic gas, and then I used them to escape. Oh, and I built a radio. That’s how I contacted my dad,” you explained.

“I have to say, I’m impressed, Y/N. You’re definitely your father’s daughter.”

“Thank you... I think. Oh, one last thing! They wanted me to build one of Dad’s suits, which is weird because why would they think I have any idea how to do that?” you told him with a bewildered scoff.

“We’ll look into it. They probably didn’t have much information regarding your relationship with your father; maybe they thought he would’ve taught you some tricks. For now, no leaving the compound. If you’re needed at SHIELD headquarters, we’ll send a car. Nicely done, Stark,” he complimented with a smug grin.

“Thank you, sir.”

…

“What did Fury say?” Natasha questioned once you left the conference room, barely sparing you a glance.

“Just that I have to stay here and I’ll be called back in for more questioning and stuff.”

“Then you should go back to your room,” she replied coldly, beginning to walk away down the hall.

“Natasha, woah, wait up. Why are you mad at me? I didn’t exactly volunteer to be kidnapped and held hostage.”

“Yeah, except you did, Y/N. What the hell were you thinking? You’re not trained for this stuff. For someone so smart, you’re so fucking stupid. Have you even thought about how I felt? I didn’t even notice when you were in danger. And then you got captured because I wasn’t there in time. And then I couldn’t find you. What the fuck would I have done if you were really dead? I have been falling apart these past three months, Y/N. And now you’re back, and you’re acting like it was no big deal, talking about it like you’re discussing the weather. Like being held against your will, thousands of miles away from me, didn’t even affect you! How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?”

“Nat, you know I-”

“No! I don’t know! First, you pushed me away for weeks. I thought I did something wrong— I was wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did to make you hate me all of the sudden and as it turns out, you were just lying to my face.”

“Natasa, come on, that’s not fair and you know it.” She tried to walk away, but you grabbed her arm and yanked her into the supply closet a few feet down the hall, kicking the door shut behind you.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” she asked, unbothered by your dramatic manhandling.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

“Fuck y-”

“Shut. Up. And listen to me. Before you start yelling at me, how about you consider how I’m actually feeling about all of this. I missed you every goddamn day. I was getting fucking beaten every hour of every day and the only thing that got me through it was you. Your stupid laugh and your stupid remarks and that stupid smirk. It drove me insane to ignore you, but I knew that if you found out what I was doing, you would’ve made me stop. And there were thousands of agents’ lives at risk. Speaking of which, did you guys stop the attack when you found the drive in my apartment?”

“Ye-”

“No talking,” you demanded, pointing a finger at her. “You haven’t earned back that right. Nod, yes or no.” She nodded her head in affirmation.

“Good,” you said sharply as you took two steps forward and trapped Natasha between the wall and your body. “May I please kiss you now?” you asked, your tone still sharp with anger, clearly pissed off. She nodded with wide eyes and you wasted no time attaching your lips to hers. Spinning the both of you around, she pinned you against the wall.

She pulled away with a gentle bite to your lip and you nearly fell to your knees at that exact moment. “Can I speak now?” she asked with a crooked smile.

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so. There was no need to pull me into a supply closet. It was hot though,” she said with a warm glimmer in her eyes.

“Duly noted, but I’ve always been one for the dramatics,” you replied.

“You’re just like Tony.”

“Ew, oh my god, did you make out with my dad, too?”

“God, no, one Stark is enough to deal with. I just meant you’re...eccentric.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“That’s not how I meant it.”

“Still how I’m taking it.”

“We should really take you to your room.”

“Wow, you move quick. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“I meant take you to your room to change your bandages, dumbass.”

“Oh, so now you’re trying to get my clothes off? Real classy, Romanoff.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed your hand, pulling you out into the hall. She didn’t drop your hand the whole walk to your temporary room, and you noticed the pointed glare she gave anyone whose gaze lingered a little too long on your joined hands.

...

“I’m sorry,” you said as she rewrapped the gauze over the burns on your abdomen— one of the guards really fancied the blow torch and hot metal sticks.

“For what?”

“For not telling you, hiding stuff. And I’m sorry I worried you so much.”

“That last part isn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re alive. But promise me one thing: never hide stuff from me again, okay? Let me be there for you, I just want to help you and keep you safe.”

“Promise,” you whispered. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. When you pulled back she chased your lips, but Jarvis cut her off.

“Miss Stark, Director Fury is requesting your presence in his office,” the AI announced.

“Saved by the bell,” Natasha said.

“I’ll see you later, Nat.” You gave her a quick peck on the lips before rushing out of the room. You weren’t exactly scared of Nick Fury but, hey, nothing wrong with being punctual, right?

...

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” he replied without batting an eye.

“Sir, I respect the hell out of you and am in no way questioning your judgment, but are you sure?”

“I’m pretty damn sure, Stark. Based on the past three months, I think you’d make a fine agent. You’d need some basic training, of course, but I have a feeling Romanoff could take care of that,” he said with a knowing smirk. “Just say the word, and you’ll be a Level 4 SHIELD agent by the end of the day.”

“Director Fury...this is an amazing opportunity, and I appreciate it, but I just got back home. I don’t think it’s the right fit for me, at least not right now.”

“I completely understand. I’ll be here if you change your mind, Stark.”

“Thank you, Sir. Have a good day,” you said with a nod and left his office.

Outside in the hall, you stopped abruptly and huffed out a breath. You bit the inside of your cheek and stood there, in the middle of the hall, for about three minutes. Spinning on your heel, you marched back inside Fury’s office.

“Oh, what the hell, why not? I’ll take it. I wanna be a SHIELD agent,” you blurted with determination.

“Good, I already had Agent Hill compile the paperwork. I was just waiting for you to quit lingering in the hall and come back in. You don’t get a weapon until you complete your certification, but here’s your badge. Fill out this paperwork and hand it in tomorrow,” Fury informed you, sliding you a shiny badge and a manilla folder full of papers.

“Oh, uh, okay. See you tomorrow, then, I guess. Thank you, sir,” you said, still standing in the middle of his office with a giddy smile on your face.

“Stark?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff series #natasha romanoff fluff #the billionaires daughter

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Note

Hi <3 I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing this but I'll try :) Smth where Buckys girlfriend suffers from a lung illness and normally he supports her whenever she feels bad, but one time he's on a long mission where he cant be there when he struggles breathing. Then the other Avengers at the compound take her to the hospital and call Buck who immediately rushes home to be by your side and it's all cute and fluffy in the end? :) Thank you very much <3

Trapped Air

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst on a mission, you suffer with your breathing problems, leaving all to panic as you have air trapped in your lungs.

Warnings | breathing problems, angst, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of torture

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There had been no call back from Bucky; he was on a mission far away, and deep undercover, and the fact that you had no response did not surprise you, however, it was impossible not to feel overcome with worry.

From what you knew, he was somewhere in Austria with Steve, and most likely irritated by the company of Sam. The thought of them together, waiting for further intel made you smile, and so you sat up on the sofa; the place where you had fallen into a rural slumber late the previous evening. That thought also made you lightly snicker to yourself, and had you grasping your chest in agony at the action.

You adjusted your seat on the sofa, kicking the blanket under your legs as you tried to relax your entire body. To subdue the worry for your love that you had and were experiencing, you and Nat had watched a movie, your head running with thoughts of the danger that your boyfriend was possibly under.

It was no doubt that James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf and former Winter Soldier was a fine fighter; he had endured and survived wars, achieving victory in the vast majority of his battles. But still, he was nothing more than a man, with a veil of serum coursing through his veins, and whilst it made him much stronger, he was still sustainable to injury, and worse.

Countless times had you seen him braised in bruises, and kissed along the seam of his scars, and though he had lived through decades, and still appeared unscathed considering the circumstances, he was a mortal man, able to die and it was far too clear for your scared eyes that he wouldn’t be able to survive every fall.

An emptiness peeled away inside of you as you placed the phone down, resting your head upon the arm of the sofa of where you had done so priorly. Taking a deep breath, you wheezed, feeling nothing more than internal pain, and it was not just for your longing to see Bucky again. It was indeed something else, a condition that you had grown used to over the years.

It had taken everything from you; the job that you had so well partook in was diminished to being unsuitable for your health. Being an avenger had once been your only purpose, but it had been the one thing that had broken you. From all the rubble and other pesticides that you had breathed in, it had tampered with your lungs, and made you to be nothing more than a victim, a fallen hero.

The worse thing about being fallen in such a way was that you had not died on the job, instead, you were being tormented every time you watched your friends leave the compound, carrying a duffel bag that had all the necessities that they could possibly need for the gruelling months ahead on the missions that they had been sent on.

Knowing that if you weren’t so inwardly broken and that if that were the case, you could have easily accompanied Bucky and the others on their uncover op made you feel worthless, and disposable. As your chest raked the air that surpassed its roots, it waded a feeling through every limb that was attached to you.

Large gulps from the air machine that was beside you usually helped, but as your brought the medically introverted oxygen mask to surround the lower half of your face, the torturous sensation failed to fade. It remained, stuck in the collapse of your airways, refusing to allow air into your defined bloodstream.

The factor alone had you panicking, and as you went to stand, there was a pounding fire coursing through your head. Your eyes got dreary, fluttering as you reached out to grasp for the side of the seating area to stabilise your steps. But it wasn’t enough, all of your weight leant to one side, and a loud and colossal smash echoed through the room.

You helplessly laid there, having no ability to get up, as the shards of the glass table that had tried to break your fall, and had ended up breaking instead, stabbed mercilessly into the canvas of your back. It made you feel like a dartboard, free to the attempts of anything that put a bet on to try. This was your final fall from greatness, and if you weren’t to survive this, that would be o-

“Y/n.” A voice rushed out, as footsteps scrambled to come to your side. The silouhette of a blurry man knelt beside you, sickened with their own scheme of panic. “Nat!” He called out towards the kitchen, you hearing the pitter patter of her assumed footsteps that were toed in competent heels.

“Clint, what happened?” She asked, but giving him a break to compose his answer as she called warily out for FRIDAY, relieved when the AI answered her order. “Get one of Stark’s cars ready to go to the hospital, inform who needs to know. Y/n’s just had a nasty fall, and I assume more.”

“She was like this when I got in here.” Was the archer’s delirious response. His hands raised your head out of the cracked pieces, gently picking the sharp crystals out of your hair. He was sick with worry, he knew that you were touring a difficult road, one that no one else on the team could fathom to understand, but despite all that, he was still there for you, as were the numerous others.

Wearing his priceless suit, Tony rushed into the room, his brown eyes blown wide as he scoped the scene. “She’s losing consciousness.” Nat informed the pair, focusing on how your eyes barely had the strength to stay open. Your breathing was laboured, and the choke emitting from it was audible, making all witnesses wince from the threatening sound.

“My car is ready, on our way to the ER, give Barnes a call.” He held the keys to his vehicle, swinging them around his finger, as he watched Clint and Natasha hoist you up, and support you through the journey to the front of the compound. Nat stroked your hair as she bit back her own tears, combing tenderly through the slightly bloody tresses to soothe her own present anxiety.

The mission was turning out to be a bust, they were tracking Zemo after his great escape; hence why their departure was classified. It was unknown why the once Baron of Sokovia had fled to the country, but all prior intel had supported the idea that he was searching for a partner to help finish his work, if he were to ever get caught by the American government again.

Bucky hated being away from the place that had slowly become his home. It made him feel lost, but if he wanted to remain within said area to continue his life, he had to follow Fury’s orders, or else the panel that had granted him freedom for all his past actions, may happen to change his mind.

The gig of being an avenger was more of Steve’s expertise, he was loved by the country, and had never tried to break its order down piece by piece. Before he was cleared to join the team, and the debate that lead to Steve and Tony siding against one another, he was nothing more than a tense ghost story.

All knew he was real, but most were too scared to admit that the Winter Solider was an assassinating figure in existence. To everyone’s dismay now, following rule number two, he was no longer HYDRA’s pet weapon. He, for the first time in his life, had some kind of clarity on who he was.

His identity, was James Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the protector of the world and a renounced ally of Wakanda. And he was happy to be known as such, in a way, the new him cleared his red ledger, and that faded away with that damned red book.

No one had the power to control his mind again, all of his actions were now completely up to him. At first, with the reign over himself, he had been unsure on how to start with this new and invented soldier that he had become. He was no longer taking refuge behind the facade of T’Challa’s country anymore, for he was no a wanted man of the state.

But Sam enjoyed prodding at his ‘cyborg brain’, driving him to certain frustration. Though, it did not matter as much, for he found the peace he had been searching for after that little bit of calm that he had experienced on his hideaway.

You. A retired avenger, that had kicked his ass, and continued to brag about it to this day, when he was under Pierce’s demeaning orders. Though, it saddened him, to have the knowledge that you no longer had the ability to pin him down on a training mat, or throw his best friend’s shield in his silent face.

There was no longer an ignition of strength to fight left within you, you were weak from the condition that had and was holding you hostage in its devastating grasp. The debts of your god deeds had wormed their way through your body, destroying it bit by bit.

Whenever he was away, missing the presence that you had once accompanied him with, he was unable but to do anything but worry about your struggling health. He feared that one day, he would get a call claiming that you had experienced a traumatic accident, and as he sat in the small and cluttered motel room, the vibrancy and life that his phone was off putting had him nervously on edge.

“It’s Fury.” He claimed to his rugged partners, putting the man that had regained control of his empire on loud speaker, awaiting for the patch wearing associate to respond to his acceptance of the call. A moment of silence had him standing, the next, caused him to pace. Steve frowned, well aware that Fury only went silent, and did not barking affirmative orders when something had happened.

That man was an absolute whore for the dramatics, he had even faked his own death on multiple accounts. There was nothing the man could fathom not to do, and this sure as hell, in the name of Goose, was not the first instance he had informed his recruits of shocking factors. Steve remembered when the dark clothed man informed him that he was in the 21st century, and to this day, it remained to be the greatest shock that he had experienced.

The second had got to be the reveal of Bucky’s survival, that heart stopping moment had gone in slow motion, as the soldat whipped his unmasked face around to face his opponents, and he was quickly recognised. You had been there to ease the confusion and the humongous shock that wired his brain. And not to mention, to soothe the wave of emotions, you had prompted at jokes at about kicking his best friend’s fine ass.

That had only been the start to a long road ahead, it had all seemed like your quad of rebelling would go on forever. Sam Wilson was your best friend, and the first to be told of your failure to continue your raids on missions, and to say that he was holding back fountains in his eyes, was a casual understatement. The Falcon had felt angry at himself for not realising the increase in coughs that fled from your sassy mouth, or how quickly you would get tired.

He put some of that blame upon himself, claiming that he should have been the first to notice the signs. It was his idea, before your struggles were revealed to anyone else, to refuse your aid on missions, which lead to conspiracies from the team. For a couple of weeks, the members that you had fought alongside for so long had speculated that you were pregnant,and even Bucky had even began to fall for that idea.

In the end, they had all wished for that to be true, a child would be a gift, whereas instead, you were bestowed with a curse. Sam had offered for you to stay with Sarah and the kids, but upon your insistence, you remained in the compound, organising files and watching cinematic classics for the thousandth time.

But anyone could see, that every time they discussed the missions, of left to endure them, your face fell, appeased by the thought that you’d never share that experience again. They all tried to distract you, Thor had even taken you on a vacation to New Asgard so that you could relax and play video games with Korg, yelling frustratedly at Noobmaster69 as the kid tried to spite your friend and his gaming skills.

That though, had not ended well, and instead, the noise had brought you insufferable pain, and you had to be taken home. But what was home anymore? You hardly felt as though you belonged upon the army of your friends, or the guardians that they were aligned with.

And so, it was very understandable why Bucky was inclined to worry. All his dragged our life, he had watched people die, or awakened from cryo to find them gone, and the split moments that he were required on missions, was another moment that he had lost with you.

He gulped as he waited for Fury to say something, anything! And when he did, he wished that he could go back in time, and stop you from ever having been an avenger. “It’s agent Y/L/N, something has happened...”

It had been hours of no news, and Stark tapped his well dressed foot. He had requested, - no, insisted the best doctors to tend to your internal and external injury, claiming that if your condition was made any worse, he would personally make sure that they never tended to another patient again.

He was not usually one to be so aggressive, but he feared loss, it was a great flaw and attribute of his. Possibly, in some people’s judgemental eyes, he cared too much, but he never thought so. To him, the billionaire was human, no matter what the citizens over the world thought of him.

Sure, he wore an iron suit to protect the world, but beneath all the metal, he had a heart. And he’d be damned sure that he used it, and that it beat for a purpose. Natasha and Clint were either side of him, the assassins on her phone as she read the captain’s well written message.

“They’ve entered the country.” She spoke, referring to Sam, Bucky and Steve. It was a relief that they were going to be here soon, then they’d all look sane in comparison to Barnes. It was doubtful that he was holding himself together well, these hours had been torture to all of them, but he had actually been tortured in multiple gruelling occasions, but it was nothing in comparison to this.

One of the country’s best and devoted doctors opened the door to the room that you were being stabilised in, leading to all eyes waiting outside to stare hopefully at him. It was an intimidating thing, to have three avengers leaving him with one of their owns lives in his hands, he was not a hero. But to them, he was to be, they trusted him and the various recommendations that had suggested that he would be best suited to the deed.

The fact that he was the man in charge in this situation was to be great steak in his career, though, he would never be able to anyone, not even family, that he had saved the life of an avenger. Due to doctor patient confidentially, he was bribed into silence by the philanthropist himself, who was certain that he was fine for paying for the entire service himself.

Money had no importance to Tony, not as his friend was the patient that could have died. The man removed his sunglasses, sternly looking up at the kind doctor with pleading and urgent eyes, wanting to scoop every detail that he could from the eccentric medic. “How is she?”

The doctor gulped, well aware that there was a weight apparent on his shoulders, even when delivering any news. But this, was a whole new experience, he knew that you, the woman hoisted up in the hospital bed, had saved his coursing during the battle of New York. He was grateful, for everything that you had done, but simultaneously, felt the need to be careful with any tactic that he used to save your life.

“Well,” he licked his dry lips, watching as the Black Widow herself stared into his soul, “she’s stable, for now. And it would be okay if one of you went in, she’s currently in the midst of waking up. However, she is going to be unable to give much in the verse of a conversation, the oxygen mask that she’s wearing has to stay on, and it will not be a good if she tries to waste the breath she’s being given to talk.”

He was interrupted by the sound of competent running down the hall, it was as though the men dressed in their gear ignored the no running rule. But it was understandable, seeing as Bucky’s eyes were wild and wide, as he came to a stop and asked what was going on. Clint stood, bracing a hand upon his shoulder, before informing him the details they had just been given. “I think you should be the first to see her.”

Bucky didn’t argue with Clint, and instead, walked into the room, ensuring that he shut the door behind himself. He smiled painfully at the sight; there were so many tubes, and all the surrounding machines were lit up with statistics that he did not understand. Nevertheless, he looked towards the vacant seat beside your bed, and claimed it for his ass that you had once kicked.

Your eyes watched as he looked down upon you, your hands reaching to remove the mask, but he placed his hand upon your own, and replaced them to be upon your chest. “Shush darling, no talking, doctor’s orders.” He spoke, rubbing your cheek with his right hand, feeling the corner of the mask against the inside of his palm.

“Had me so worried doll, thought I was gonna lose you.” At the thought, a grimace presented itself of his woeful face, and to comfort him, you placed your fingers around his own, absentmindedly playing with them as you listened to his sincere voice. “On the way here, I spoke to Shuri, we are going to see if she can help you in anyway, as long as you’re okay with that. Does that sound good baby?”

Fluttering your eyelashes as you looked through their webbed curtain to stare lovingly at him, you nodded your head, ignoring the spiteful pains that emitted from where the glass had shallowly penetrated your scalp. “Alright, I’ll let her know. And I was thinking...” he waited for a moment to continue, being encouraged by the crease between his brow line.

“What if we stay in Wakanda, and we leave all this behind? We can still see people when they visit, and we can just, have some calm to ourselves. No missions, no aliens to fight, and no Zemo to chase. Or I was thinking, we go and live by Sarah, you love those kids, they’re basically your nephews, and we could take boat rides during the middle of the night, and help the people who live there, and...”

At his rambling, you smiled beneath the plastic system that was around your mouth, listening to him talk and talk about your future together. Yes, you missed missions, but you would give all that up for a normal and easy life, with Bucky Barnes.

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

Text

.exe

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: stalkers, bucky being a creepo, reader being a creepo. dark!IT!bucky x dark!reader :-) female & male masturbation, voyeurism (i think), cyber crimes being committed.

A/N: this is my birthday gift to @babyboibucky <3 to my boo, I love you and you have a special place in my heart. this is gonna be a multi-part thing, it's too long to be considered as a one-shot, oops.

please enjoy! :D

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist

CTRL moodboard

4:49 PM

Just 11 more minutes until he can pack his bags up for the weekend.

One new ticket - URGENT

Goddamn it.

Bucky pulled his earphones out in annoyance, just another office idiot who doesn’t know how to print A4 sheets. If the office were to be held hostage and printing out was the only thing that can save them, half of the floor would be dead.

The new name caught his eye, Y/N Y/L. A new hire, it seems like.

Subject: One new ticket - URGENT

Hi, this is Y/N, employee number 0008675309. I’m new here and was told to send a ticket for the equipment request.

Thank you and have a great weekend!

Oh, Bucky’s gonna have a great weekend indeed. Out of pure curiosity, he’s already pulled up your employee file. A cute smile to a cute name. His annoyance dispersing already, just by thinking of ways how he can spend time with you.

Hey, Y/N! Bucky types into the text field, Welcome to the company. I’m Bucky and I got assigned to help you get settled. Do you prefer having a desktop or a laptop? I’ve attached a form in this thread, send it to me once you’re done.

Have an awesome weekend too!

As much as he hates sending out chirpy emails, he can’t help but to smile when you immediately send a reply back.

Thanks, Bucky! So sorry for sending in the request super late. Got caught up with the onboarding. Is it okay if I use my laptop until we can get a unit to my place? PC or laptop is fine with me.

Best,

Y/N

Bucky fights off another smile, rubbing his hand over his stubbled cheek as he carefully types out a reply. Unlike other days, he doesn’t mind staying beyond 5 PM today. It’s not like he has other plans for his Friday night.

No worries, Y/N. He’s already loving your name. Happy to help!

Do you have your laptop with you? I can set it up before you go home for the weekend. I can probably send in the ticket to the guys so you can have your work equipment next week.

His deft fingers are dancing over his mechanical keyboard, clacking away while the clock ticks closer to the weekend.

A ping, another reply from you. You’re new, you’re still excited to make friends in the office. If you only knew how stupid they are, though.

Yeah! I have it on me right now. I actually work on the same floor, I can drop it off there right now.

Bucky glances around his office, looking for any reflective surface he can check himself on. He runs his hand through his hair, taming any stubborn locks that fell out of his low bun. His shirt hangs just right against his huge frame, his pants hugging his figure, accentuating his silhouette even more.

Just as the clock ticks 5:00, a soft knock raps against his door, “come in!”

You are cuter, prettier in person. Your perfume hits his nose and he’s floored—metaphorically.

“Mr. Barnes,” you say, your demeanor somewhat meek and shy. Well, of course, you are. Your frame is nothing against the hunk of the man who just stood up to greet you.

“Bucky.” He prompts, smiling. You reciprocated the smile, but you really weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe a scrawny little dude mousing away on a keyboard?

“Bucky, thank you so much for doing this. I know you’d rather get off of work since it’s Friday and all.”

He hums, taking your laptop in his hands. You notice the rings adorning his fingers—complementing his tanned skin tone and—it’s not appropriate to stare at a stranger’s hand.

Heat creeps up your face as he turns to look at the stickers stuck to your laptop, “you know, I like this band.” Bucky says, pointing to an old sticker, he carefully sets down your laptop on his workstation.

“They’re great,” you muse, taking a seat on a plastic chair by the door.

You take a gander around his small office. There was nothing out of the ordinary but the big black server blinking at the back, so why do you feel trapped?

“Sorry about the temp, we have to keep the room cold for the server in the back,” Bucky explains, noticing how your arms are crossed over your chest. The skirt you’re wearing isn’t doing you any better too.

You stammer out an it’s okay with a small smile.

Bucky worked on your computer quietly, using a USB stick to load all the applications you need to set up a temporary work account on your laptop. After a few minutes, he beckoned you to come here. You scoot over to his desk, rolling the chair forward and beside him. Not too close though.

“So, this note has all your generated passwords. Type those into the app when you first log in, then you can change it if you want to.” Bucky explains, the cursor idles on the screen. He tries not to get too close to you, to give you personal space. It’s a professional workplace after all.

“This app,” he drags a window, pulling up an application, “tracks your hours and your keystrokes. It’s company-mandated because managers want to micro-manage their people, I guess.” Bucky shrugs, his disdain showing through his voice. His tone shifting lower than what you’d expected.

“Sorry, I just hate their new protocol,” his face and voice softening as he looks at you, “it’s a total privacy breach if you ask me.”

You’d normally disagree but something tells you that maybe he’s got a point. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leans closer as if to whisper something, “this note right here? It’s a nifty thing, a little script so your computer doesn’t go to sleep when you’re away. It enables and disables your numlock pad so it counts as a keystroke.”

A smirk finds its place on your face, “well, that’s…something, isn’t it?”

Never in your life would you find yourself flirting with a co-worker but there’s something about Bucky that made you excited. Interested. Intrigued.

Bucky nods, rolling his chair away to fetch a pad of sticky notes. “Another thing from your friendly neighborhood IT guy,” he peels off a leaf and sticks it on your laptop’s built-in camera, “keep your cam covered.”

You give him a chuckle and a playful salute, “yes, sir.”

Bucky’s a modern man. He sees a pretty girl and he gets giddy. He talks to a pretty girl and he gets flustered. But you—you make him feel more than giddy and flustered. There was something familiar about you, and your eyes. Has he seen you before? Met you, even? No, that’s impossible—if he had met you before, he’d surely remember you.

It was 5:34 PM when he gave you your laptop back and sent in an urgent request for your equipment. While taking down the elevator to the lobby, Bucky gave you a few tips on how to ‘survive’ working in the office. According to him, as far as you go in on time and kept your head above the rumors, you’d do fine.

He asked about your first week and he told you about this joint near the building that serves the best burgers and fries.

You’ve got a good feeling that you just made your first friend.

—

The sun was already setting down when you pulled into your apartment’s parking lot. At the very last minute, you turned into a drive-through and got some food on the go. The side trip took out 10 minutes of your time but at least you dodged the awful traffic that was building up by the highway.

Along with your laptop bag and your food, you trudge up to your third-floor apartment. It wasn’t what you wanted—the windows faced the street, the screen door doesn’t lock all the way—but it’s the one you got. As long as it’s got four walls and a roof, right?

You slip out of your work clothes and into some comfy jammies after a rewarding shower; the sooner you can get your food heat up, the sooner you can eat, and drink and then go to sleep.

So while waiting for the microwave to beep, you pry open your laptop. You told Bucky not to shut it down after he worked on it as to not lose your work on another profile, which he understood.

The work account he set up greeted you, along with the bright pink sticky note he stuck to your webcam. That wasn’t real, was it? All those cautionary tales of hackers using webcams to peep on you. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you, like some kind of initiation. Without a second thought, you took off the sticky note. It was kinda annoying anyway.

Clicking the Log Out Work button, your personal account popped into the frame. Your opened apps and documents displaying themselves for you to use. You pulled up Spotify and clicked on the first playlist you saw—which happened to be your intimate playlist.

Sure, the Pavlov reaction is real because halfway through the first song, you already found yourself getting all hot and bothered. This one’s your favorite song too.

You groan in annoyance, your food’s no longer a priority.

Picking up the laptop from the table, you walk to your bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. You live alone, it’s fine. You put the laptop on its loudest setting, setting it on your desk and you plopped down on your bed, the pillows and the comforter pooling on one side.

Your room is illuminated by a streak of light from the street. Your curtains flowing softly with the breeze that just came in.

Glancing at your laptop, you remembered Bucky. How his office smelled when you first walked in. How he stood tall when he greeted you. How he smiled. Those goddamn rings of his.

Before you caught yourself thinking rationally, your fingers are already splayed even over your thighs, caressing the soft flesh of your legs.

Bucky’s smirk and his cologne finding purchase in your fogged brain. Thoughts of him pulling you aside into his office to fool around—voices above hushed whispers as your skin erupts in goosebumps, the chilled air of his office finding its way up to your spine.

Oh, fuck it.

You undress fast, flinging your shirt over your head, dropping it somewhere below the bed. The air in your room making your nipples hard and erect as you pinch them. You breathe out a sigh, the heat of the moment creeping up your torso.

The material of your panties dampening as you imagine yourself bent over his desk, your skirt bunched over your hips as he laps your sopping cunt. Bucky’s tongue exploring your folds up and over until your pussy’s a quivering mess of drool and spit.

Your fingers slip past the band of your underwear. Even you surprised yourself by how wet you are.

God, you met him once and he’s already inching his way into your mind.

But who could blame you? You’ve been all over his Facebook profile when you learned his name via the office’s organizational chart. The first time you saw him, walking around the office with a laptop in his hands, you already knew you wanted to at least formally meet him. A scroll on his page, you found a band that you could tolerate listening to. (They’re okay, just not your taste in music.)

A plan came to mind when your department head told the team that you can work from home from time to time—only if you agreed to use a work laptop, a company-owned one. Your manager advised you to put in the request as soon as you can, for you to secure a unit before the on-hand supplies dwindle.

Deliberately sending in the request late—way, way later—than what your manager told you just so you could pull up the ‘new hire’ card and act dumb.

And it looked like he bought it too.

The image of him fucking you quiet while he grabs you from behind played inside your mind like a memory—a vision. Of how his thick cock would fill you up until your pussy is clenching around him. Would he pinch your throbbing clit, making you squirm and cream around him?

Your fingers are compared nothing to his, that’s for sure. But it does the work for now.

A breathy moan comes out of your mouth as you play with your clit, your cunt dripping down wetness as you continue to fondle your tits.

His hands would make a great addition to your chokers.

Your toes curl and your breath quickens, the coil in the pit of your stomach tightening—white-hot heat creeping up your limbs.

Oh, fuck, Bucky!

—

His ears perked up as he heard you moaning his name.

Bucky was busy watching you enjoy yourself when he got caught in the moment and decided to enjoy himself too.

He was barely keeping himself behaved when you first walked into the floor wearing a button-up and slacks that accentuated your backside. Bucky wished he was the one who gave you the tour and know your name for the first time, but that was impossible—he was in the IT department.

So when he got the news that new hires will be given the chance to work from home, he hoped that he gets to be the one to help you set up.

He was losing hope by the time he got your request, he thought that you opt not to work at home but then there you were, sending him an apologetic email on a late Friday afternoon.

Of course, he happily obliged. He even set up himself a little virtual camp in the background of your computer just so he can continue spending time with you.

Just thinking about you is already making him hard again. Bucky already came in hot spurts of white as he watched you desperately undress earlier. What can he say—he was waiting for you to show your tits already. As such, he correctly guessed that you’d be annoyed with the glaringly bright sticky note he used to ‘cover’ your webcam with.

But seeing you fingerfuck yourself all alone just wasn’t enough for him, he has to have you all by yourself.

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff

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