#my one hope is that watching it in live action will make people realize how fucked up astrid is

[remotewatch]

can’t hit it one time, multiple

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 2.9k wc

minors dni but still get involved and stay informed politically let me be clear

summary: volunteering is so rewarding! being a part of a cause you believe in, educating first time voters, getting dicked by the campaign’s eye candy on your lunch break; it’s got everything!

cws: shameless classic 1D style smut, bus rocking, wrap it before you tap it on THE Harris campaign reproductive freedom bus (is it legally actionable to call it by its govt name), whatever the hell is going on with the JD videos cranked up to 100, reader calls him both diva and a slut, both not totally serious, his tripod is your wingman, this Barbie tastes like clementines, semi public sex I GUESS, sub!jack SOMEWHAT

many thanks to my editor (and co-writer this time around) @mystardustmelodyyy for the organizing and romantic flair 🩵🗳️

additional thanks to Jack and the team for the inspirational Philly content, do keep it up !!

Although your day of volunteering had been nothing terribly exciting so far- setting up chairs, guiding people to their seats, a LOT of directing lost families to the bathroom- the whole town hall was thrumming with a sense of hope that felt nothing short of electric. You didn’t realize how busy you’d been until you finally got a chance to sit down and make up some gift bags. That took no time at all, leaving you a nice free chunk of the day to wander around and soak up the atmosphere. There had been rumors of a free gelato truck, and the empty breezeway pointed to them being true. The sharp thwap of sambas slapping onto marble snapped you out of your daydreaming; almost empty, apparently.

As you rounded the corner, you spotted the source of the racket: America’s most polarizing nepo baby. Filming… a stunt of some kind? He takes a running start into a front flip, landing close enough to his tripod to throw it off balance. After repositioning it and trying again, his shoes slip in a puddle on the floor, forcing him to splay out a hand to avoid falling onto his ass.

You were well aware of Jack’s work; your feed was convinced you were precisely his target demo and had been pushing his content onto you since July. Maybe it wasn’t totally off base. Regardless, watching him struggle to land a perfect somersault was much more endearing than the finished videos. When he stands up for a third attempt and manages to tangle a tripod foot up with his pants in the process, you’re unable to suppress a fit of giggles.

“Are you winning over there, diva?”

Jack looks a bit sheepish when he first glances up but recovers quickly. He adjusts the tripod and hits you with the same smile your algorithm insists makes you weak.

“I think it’s still too close to call.”

“Did you want some help with the…whatever it is you’re recording?”

One of the tripod legs abruptly gives out, the clatter echoing around the breezeway. Jack winces and nudges the fallen hunk of fiberglass with his shoe.

“Yeah, that would be great, if you don’t mind.” Five long strides over to you and he’s pressing his phone into your hands, camera already open. “If you’d just follow- well, you saw what I was trying to do.”

You can’t say if it’s the pressure of a live audience of him being fed up with his previous attempts, but Jack flips perfectly into frame this time, proceeds immediately to an immaculate standing backflip, then takes off towards the other end of the breezeway without so much as glancing at the camera. He leaps up and clicks his heels a few steps in, only turning around when you’re starting to wonder if he’s just ditching the shoot altogether.

“How was that?” He shouts on his way back over.

“Looks good!” You have no earthly idea what he was going for, but it fits right in with the absurdist athletic vibe he’s been rocking with between his more overt political content.

“Aw, that’s great. Thank you!” he beams at you after looking over the footage (you try not to focus on how small the phone looks in his hands). “The lighting is perfect too.”

“Oh, good!” Thank god. “Did you need help with anything else?”

Jack rolls his eyes mischievously like he's considering letting you in on a huge secret. “I was actually going to film a thing or two for JD if you’ve got an extra minute.”

“For that? Absolutely!”

His grin stretches wider to match yours at that response, and you realize you’re smiling at each other like two idiots.

“I’m Jack, by the way.”

He repeats your name back after you introduce yourself, and you wish he’d do it again so you can keep watching his lips move saying it.

🔹🔹🔹🔹

This time, Jack gives you slightly more direction, guiding you to hold the phone at an angle just high enough to skew provocative as he leisurely strolls backwards through the hallway. You don’t need to coach him into angling his head just right to catch the afternoon sun in his eyes; he’s got the bambi look down pat.

“JD, I really miss you. Won’t you come home so we can be a family again?” He motions just out of frame for you to aim higher, but you’re already adjusting the shot before you see his signal. “You said I shouldn’t be voting because I’m not a dad like you. Is that true, JD? Or are you making up stories again?”

Jack glances backward to check if there’s enough room for him to keep up his pace, then breaks for a second to ask “Alright, one more?” The two octave difference almost makes you drop his phone, but you keep it together and nod.

His eyes crinkle up adorably when he smiles. “Sweet.” Then he’s back to business, eyefucking the camera like he just got out of prison.

“JD, I thought you knew everything, and you told me that I should never lie. How am I supposed to trust you if I don’t know when you're telling a story or not?”

You stick your bottom lip out and mouth “more”; he happily obliges. Jack looks every bit the foxy little public servant as he peers out at the lens from under his eyelashes.

“Can you help me understand, JD? I want to understand. I just need a little help. Can you show me?” Christ, he’s practically purring. Thankfully, he snaps back to director mode before you can get too lost in the rhythm.

“You think that was too much?”

“I think you could do a little more, to be really honest.”

His eyes narrow knowingly. “How so?”

“...You could go down on your knees.” You’re half joking at the most and still think you’ve crossed a line, but sure enough, he’s kneeling down and crossing his ankles like it couldn’t come more naturally to him.

He’s still plenty tall enough to bite your pant zipper, and you quickly shove the thought aside.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, perfect, just like that.”

This time, he might as well be on mute for all the words you’re processing. It’s all slow blinking doe eyes, curls bouncing with every emphatic head tilt, his tongue stretching out to wet his lips between sentences. The “Can you show me?” rocks straight through you and breaks the spell when Jack glances up at you. His expression shifts from mockingly innocent to coquettish for just a scorching, enduring moment, then he’s back on his feet, back to the bubbly, personable demeanor you’d expect from him.

“Thank you again for the help. She was NOT playing nice today.” he nods back at the tripod.

“Oh, it’s no problem! I love your work.” He waves a hand modestly.

“I love your work! You actually came out here and helped! It’s so much more important than what I do. Is this your first event?”

“It is! It’s my first time.”

“Well, we love first timers around here.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” The implication hits you a beat too late, so you pad it with a restrained “It’s really interesting to see the behind the scenes of it all.”

Jack rocks back on his heels, his eyebrows drawing up playfully.

“Have you seen the bus?”

“Of course I’ve seen the bus!”

“No, I meant the inside of it. Did you want to see that?” He allows himself the forwardness of a head tilt.

What else could you say?

“Yeah, I really would.”

🔹🔹🔹🔹

Bless the gelato truck, because there’s not a trace of human activity on this side of the building. You’re barely paying attention to the formality of a tour Jack’s giving; his enthusiasm is adorable, but the way his fingers spread as he’s pointing out every feature in the bus is making your mind wander.

“Shoes on or off?” you manage to ask.

“Oh, whatever you want. We’re not strict.” Off, then. “As you can see, this is where the magic happens.”

Once you get to the middle of the bus, the combination of campaign paraphernalia and scattered phone chargers, melatonin gummies, and cold brew cans feels like you’re getting a peek into something thrilling. There’s a map of tour stops tacked up with current polling results on a small whiteboard to the side. It’s close, but no doubt doable. You’re so swept up that you nearly smack your head on an open cabinet door when you turn back to face your host. His hand shifts back along its edge to cushion the impact before you can think to duck, and the heat from it makes your cheek tingle.

“Careful, it’s tight in here!” he teases.

It’s hard to shake the feeling of trespassing.

“Are you sure I’m good to be here?” Jack turns back from replenishing half empty swag baskets to smile reassuringly.

“No one needs it until one. When do you have to get back?”

“My break ends at one thirty.”

“I guess it’s our bus, then!” He fetches you a sparkling water from the minifridge and cracks open his own like he owns the place. You elect to remain standing and lean against one of the chairs opposite, certainly not because you want to have him looking up at you for as long as possible.

Jack is all long limbs and tanned striations as he stretches out on the bench seat like a cat, his wingspan nearly spanning its whole length. When he arches slightly to get comfortable, his shirt catches under his pecs and makes your mouth go dry. You wonder if you’re staring too much.

“So, do you have any other directing experience, or do you just have a knack for giving orders?” His head lolls to one side, soaking up your attention. One of his feet moseys it’s way over to you, and you uncross your ankles before it has a chance to nudge them in that direction.

“I think you’re just good at taking them.” Is that a blush you’re seeing? Jack breaks into a giggle that reads almost wistful.

“I was expecting you to tell me to roll over and balance a treat on my nose.”

“Anything for the campaign, right?”

“I mean, of course, but it's still those day to day interactions that are going to win this for us.”

“Yeah, the canvassing especially is really rewarding, I didn’t expect this many people to be undecided. I guess some of them still need a little convincing.” You plop down next to him, closer than you’d ever dare if he wasn’t flushed clear down to his shirt collar. Somehow, your right leg finds itself intertwined with his. He’s a fucking furnace, even directly under the AC unit.

“Not me though; I know exactly what I want to do.”

The corners of Jack���s mouth curl up without a shred of hesitation. He squints at you again before taking a slow pull of his Perrier, Adam’s Apple bobbing like it's begging you to bite it. His middle fingertip trails lazily around the rim as he sets it down. One last lip smack, then he’s pressing them onto yours and flooding your nose with the smell of clementines and sea salt.

The buzzing in your brain reaches a fever pitch when he drapes an arm around your waist to pull you closer. Tilting your head ever so slightly, your hand wanders up to cradle his face and press a thumb to his chin. A gentle push down to open Jack’s mouth and his tongue is snaking its way in, the obscene length of it sending sparks straight down to your clit. He breathes a contented, relieved moan into your mouth when your leg swings over his hips to straddle him, then little stilted mewls as you start rocking back and forth.

“You’re a little slut for democracy aren’t you? You tease, panting against his jawline.

“Who, me?” he grins and drags his hands up your thighs to settle on your ass, thumbs playing with your waistband.

You can feel your nipples hardening as you reach one hand out to steady yourself against the window. The bracing cold glass is delicious, but you flinch back when you spot people trickling back into view, gelato cups in hand, a few racing over to pose with the bus.

“Don’t worry; they can’t see you,” he chuckles along your sternum. Jack scooches too far forward trying to get a better angle to rut against you and nearly slides you both off the seat. You hear a whispered little “oh, shit,” before he scoops you up with one arm and shifts to stand, the other grabbing a spare water on his way to the rear of the bus. He collapses onto the deep sofa without missing a beat, but looks back up at you for reassurance, as if he’s somehow being presumptuous. You don’t even see it; you’re too busy yanking at his jeans like a madwoman after feeling how hard he is.

Concerns assuaged, he manages to pull both of your pants off without incident, only an accidental kick to the end table. Jack lets out a cackle when his hand slides low enough to feel you drip down his wrist.

“And I’m the slut for democracy?”

“Oh, shut up!”

You stretch behind him to the bin of condoms marked ‘F•CK PROJECT 2025’ on the far windowsill, shamelessly letting your breasts drag over his face in the process.

“It would really be a shame if we didn’t do some quality control, since we’re already here.” You trace one along his lips until they part to accept your gift.

“Such a waste,” Jack mimics you, if a bit muffled, as his incisors shred the foil wrapper. “And,” he adds cheekily with a shrug, “we’re fresh out of plan B.”

He’s already slid it on by the time you realize he’s unclipped your bra somewhere between here and the door, and you waste absolutely no time slipping him inside, so warm it makes you shudder. His eyelids flutter when you sit down fully; he’s whining like the bus is soundproof the second you get to work, all strained little whimpers and cut off syllables as you bounce in his lap. There’s not a minute to waste, and it’s showing in the breakneck pace you set. Jack’s movements are just as frantic, bucking up hard enough to threaten to throw you straight off this ride.

Desperate to see how far down he blushes, you slide your arms under his shirt, heat blooming up to your shoulders as you do. He gets your hint and tugs it off; you waste no time planting both hands on his pecs and letting your fingers run wild through his chest hair.

Meanwhile, your shirt and bra get caught on your elbow in the process of shedding them, and your left knee skids right off the couch while you’re distracted. Jack catches your shin effortlessly and plants his foot to keep his balance; you actually spot him smiling at his own reflexes. He rolls you both over without slipping out, chuckling a little “didn’t I tell you to be careful?” into your ear. He moves to let your leg down, and you throw it over his shoulder to keep him pinned flat against you before he can do so. The new angle restricts his range a bit, but he’s already shoving a hand down to strum at your clit, face millimeters from yours for the perfect view of just how much you’re loving it. He murmurs cockily when he sees you holding back. “Won’t you let me hear you?” There’s no way you’ll attract attention if you’re just moaning into his mouth, right?

It’s all too much; Jack’s whole body draped over you like a fever that won’t break, the way he’s panting down your throat every time you clamp around him, the little calluses on his occupied fingertips and how they maintain their perfect, unbearable pace no matter how much you thrash around. You can barely squeak out a “fuck, Jack, please-,”

His “I know, I know,” sounds just as ragged and that tips you right over the edge.

Jack’s composure completely unravels with the first pulse. His eyes screw shut and his hips still as deep as he can get to ride it out with you. You’re shaking and frothing like a can of Pepsi- sweet and sticking all along his slicked-flat happy trail as you lift your leg a little higher and over the back of his neck to pull him in closer. The beads of sweat on his forehead drip onto yours when he falls into another messy kiss, aftershocks buzzing comfortably through you both.

His phone timer jolts you out of your shared stupor.

“What is that?”

“12:30,” he groans into the couch cushion. “Sit tight, I’ll get you a towel.

🔹🔹🔹🔹

Jack is steaming your dress pants in one sock and his Hanes like its second nature, and it’s making a strong case for the hottest thing he could possibly do. In a few minutes, he’ll go out the front of the bus and stir up the crowd while you exit through the back.

“Take a bev for the road if you’d like.” He slaps the minifridge pointedly.

“Thanks, you’re such a good host!” you hadn’t moved from where you were laid out on the sofa; it was too much fun watching him get flustered from the compliment, “This was fun, getting to know you and all.”

“Yeah it was,” his tone is achingly sincere as he smiles back at you, face getting flushed all over again “...Not to be too bold, but could I get your number?”

[captainmaxatx]

Look I love HTTYD way more then the next guy but I am keeping my hopes for this remake low

Live action remakes are so hit or miss and the first movie is so iconic that I just really don’t think they will be able to pull it off

I haven’t been doing well mentally recently so that’s definitely effecting my opinion but I’m kinda mad about it, like they already fucked yo with the last movie just leave it alone

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[zan0tix]

Hi tumblr user Zan0tix, I have to say that I love that you draw Jake as big and hairy AND fem. It's such a rare combination outside of mean-spirited caricatures, every time I see your Jake I get a big smile on my face. :)

Hi tumblr user HermitCyclop ^u^ here is a jake drawing for you 🫶

The transmisogynistic demonisation of these features is so maddening!!! I agree! Im glad that the intent (appreciating these features) of my jake design reaches you c:

GOING TO PUT IT UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY. But jake english gender meta because i think about it Too Much and am taking this as an excuse to infodump abt it. 😁

The alpha kids and their specific defiance of both homestucks gendered narrative AND real life societal expectations are so fun to think about to me!! but since we are talking about jake, his specific defiance of both homestucks models of masculinity and femininity in the context of his queerness is like the reason he is my fav character.

He props himself up that he wants to be the adventure "hero" in the homestuck sense (the hardheaded blue femme fatale) and the western media sense (the hardheaded action man) yet whenever pressed to actually act on what he says he always refuses or obfuscates. Because really what he wants is to just be himself! I really love the alpha kids because they all just want to be Themselves, not be restricted and defined by what is expected of them, (all the characters have this but the alphas particularly really hammer this home for me)

The heavy emphasis on their beta selves, the heteronormative archetypes they embodied and what went wrong in their lives that manifest as fears in their alpha selves... im always thinking about it. How differently society affects queer ppls choices in life and then the fact that they all get a second chance and getting to watch them live out that second chance and realize their queerness and them all caring so much abt eachother and wanting to aspire to be better FOR the ones they love!!!!!! it always tugs at my heart strings to ponder😢😢

IM SO GOOD AT GOING ON TANGENTS MY BAD but basically. The alpha kids explicit queerness and how despite the comic itself protesting, they are all shown to be deserving of love (of all kinds) And as a person who super heavily relates to jake, his experience with his own identity (and dirks unending adoration and love for him and likewise jakes belief and admiration of dirk) serves to me as a reminder that yknow! We are all worthy of love!! Even if we dont think ourselves to be (this is just the message of shrek.) and there is always hope to be found in things improving!!!!

But in a text thats explicitly queer and not shy about letting its queer characters do wrong in realistic ways i think this message is incredibly powerful and certainly one of the best things about the comic in my eyes. And i love embracing that in my art of the characters! Drawing queer (but here specifically trans) characters all getting to be proud of themselves and their appearances makes me feel proud of myself alongside them and I think its wonderful to be able appreciate other trans peoples experiences and looks through it too!!

I specifically in homestuck fandom dont really see anybody but twinks (usually dirk or eridan LMFAO) portrayed to be fem in any manner 😢 when jake is the most explicitly feminine man in the comic. (I think the transmisogyny thats kind of rampant in this fandom means people dont want to consider those outside conventional attractiveness being feminine or transfem identities outside binary transwomen if even that😭😭) I am being the change i wana see in the world 🙏 The amount of transfem fat gay bear jake in the world increases by one every time i post

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Dance (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd attending a ball and being bored to tears until you appear in the crowd.

A/n- thanks to everyone who read and supported my other Feyd fic!! I hope you all enjoy this one too :)

Word Count: 1,353

Warnings: none

The ballroom is overrun with diplomats and politicians. All dressed up in their very best attire, each one is hoping to impress those richer and more influential than themselves.

Feyd observes with a bored demeanour, swirling the blood red wine in his goblet. He’s leaning against a white pillar, staring out at the people with keen dark eyes.

A celebration of this degree isn’t something to be missed, his Uncle had said, insisting on his attendance.

So he attends, although he is bored from the lack of any meaningful conversations or actions. The feast was the best part, his favourite piece a bloody rare steak that practically melted in his mouth.

No one has come to speak with him out of a desire to just chat. No, each person who spoke had an ulterior motive and fear in their eyes. They want to be on the Harkonnen’s good side, lest they become victims instead. So, they chat about inconsequential things, all the while their hands shake and betray their frayed nerves.

Feyd found it amusing at first, but has since grown tired of it. These fickle politics and the endless pursuit of money. Money and power make this universe worth living in.

Music begins to play, a sensual drum beat joined by the strumming of string instruments and an angelic vocalizer. The sea of mingling people part as they allow the dancers the necessary space to move.

Feyd’s lips curl as he watches people join in the dance, the ballroom finally used for its original purpose.

People in skin tight dresses, fashionable suits, those showing too much skin, some showing none- the room is flooded with a menagerie of humans.

Each one is dancing with a partner, bending and swaying to the rhythm. All accept one.

He watches her move in perfect synchronization with the lilting music, lifting her arms high in the air. She avoids the stuffy aristocratic dancers who hardly allow the music to carry them.

She looks like a woman possessed. As if the melody has taken root deep within her and bids her to perform a marvellous spell.

It must be a spell, for he finds himself bewitched.

No one else has captured his attention so profoundly this whole event. He hasn’t even spoken with her yet and oh how he wishes too.

He must.

Feyd has never before desired to dance. Not unless it was the dance of battle, of blades clashing and blood dripping.

You have changed that.

As he watches you deftly twirling and clapping gently to the song, he cannot stop his body from acting on its own accord.

And Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, fearsome warrior, finds himself pushing through the crowd to join you in your hypnotic dance.

You notice when the handsome stranger leaves his spot by the pillar, his eyes fixated only on you. You’re not sure how to feel.

During the dinner, you had walked by him on the way to your designated place. You’re from a minor house, not fit to sit with the guests from the major ones. Not that you minded, it’s always been this way.

He had caught your attention immediately. Brooding and gorgeous, with full, sensual lips and the palest skin you’ve ever seen, how could you resist admiring him?

He hadn’t noticed you then.

He notices you now.

A soft smile graces your lips as he reaches you, dark eyes boring into yours. You stop as he reaches out a sculpted hand.

You take it.

His hand is warm, and you can sense the strength hiding just beneath his skin. This man is dangerous, you realized that when you first spotted him.

To your surprise, he is an excellent dancer, leading you in perfect harmony to the music. You can barely hear the music over the pounding of your heart.

This wasn’t what you expected.

“You are a wonderful dancer,” you whisper once you’re close enough to hear each other.

His smirk is prideful, “A fighter must be lithe and nimble, my lady.”

His voice is raspy, deep. Again, you are taken by surprise.

“You must be an excellent warrior too.”

You spin around, his hand guiding you. He has dropped his smile, replaced it with a predatory look reminiscent of a hungry panther.

“The best,” he replies, supporting your back as he dips you downwards.

The other dancers seem to fade away as you dance with him, this frightening stranger. His touches are like a fire unto you, his gaze a steady burning.

He dances as if it’s a battle of dominance. He leads without hesitation, and you answer with the fluidity and grace befitting a lady.

It’s exhilarating.

And it’s gone too soon as the music dies down and the other clap for the musicians.

Breathing heavily, you simply stare at this man who joined you in rapturous movement, not wanting it to end.

He hasn’t let go of your hand.

You don’t want him to.

“What’s your name?” You ask before he can slip away and disappear forever. If he did, you’d at least want to remember his name.

He smirks, “You don’t know me?”

“No, or I would not have asked,” you point out.

He chuckles, revealing blacked teeth, “I am na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, my lady.”

You blink at this revelation. You’ve never met a Harkonnen before, let alone a such a high ranking one.

Feyd expects you to recoil in fright, surely knowing the brutality his house is known for. He is taken aback when you smile.

“I am pleased to meet you,” you in line your head slightly as you supply your own name.

He realizes his hand is still clasping yours and that you don’t seem to mind it one bit. Feyd gently tugs you towards him, “Come, it is too crowded here.”

Perhaps foolishly, you allow yourself to be led away from the ballroom and into a quiet hall.

It’s late, and you can see the stars through the sheer curtains of the hallway.

“Are you enjoying the festivities? You seemed unhappy,” you ask. “I saw you by the pillar.”

“I was bored,” he admits without care. “Before the dance.”

“And now?”

“And now I have welcome company and my boredom has fled in the wake of your beauty.”

He traces a hand, still so warm, down your cheek. You bask in the attention, wondering if this is all a dream you’ll wake from in a moment.

Feyd’s hand goes lower, until it grasps around your neck and tightens. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to still your breathing. With his grip tight, he pulls you forward and kisses you deeply.

It’s intoxicating.

He kisses like he dances, dominating and alluring. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he continues his assault on your senses.

“Everything was dull until you danced into my sight,” he rasps as you catch your breath. “I’ve never seen such a vision.”

“I have never seen a man like you,” you confess, resting a hand on his chest. “You have such intensity…”

“Does it frighten you?”

“No, no it thrills me, my lord.”

The way those words roll off your tongue has Feyd hooked, his mouth latching onto your neck as he cups your face with one hand.

“Do you know what I’ve done?” He asks, unsure why he’s asking.

“I know you’ve danced beautifully,” you smile. “And I know your touch feels electrifying. And I know you’re going to take me into an empty room.”

You withdraw from him slightly, awestruck at the hunger in his eyes.

“And what happens then?”

He retakes your hand, not too gently this time, and practically drags you to the nearest room, slamming the pen the door.

Luckily, no one is in there.

“You know what happens next,” you say, already stripping him of his fine shirt before doing the same to yourself.

Feyd is glad he decided to come to this festival, thanking his lucky stars as he stares in awe at your beauty.

He wonders if you make love as spellbindingly as you dance.

He’ll soon find out.

[updownlately]

how could i ever (treat my baby that way)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 4.7k | inspo: never keeping secrets by babyface | a/n: got this ask a long ass time ago and it's finally gone somewhere. this is part one to a two part fic! (read part ii here)

~~~

You’d think that between the chilly air coming out of the air conditioning in the room and the freezing cold drink in your hand that you’d be comfortably cool, body not overheating despite being in a slightly crowded bar. 

You hoped that would be the case, just like it had been many times before. Yet, the way your body was burning right now contrasted your prayers, unusual for you, yet not surprising given the circumstances.

You knew you were pissed, could nearly feel the steam coming out of your own ears before your emotions could even make themselves known. It sucked, having to accept your fate, letting yourself get more and more agitated at the sight in front of you, hand tightening on your glass, fingertips white. But that’s all you could do, invisible rope holding you back, keeping your hands tied, the artist no other than the one you loved.

Letting your eyes drift over to the blonde, your blonde, in the middle of the dance floor, your jaw tightened. 

You knew she was yours, the two of you having been together for over a year now. You knew she was yours, your apartment being the one she resided in the most. You knew she was yours, ‘I love you’s’ whispered in the mingled breathes you shared late into the night. You knew she was yours. So why didn’t it feel like it?

Your unwavering gaze, almost like two laser beams, focused on your girlfriend, mentally begging her to look your way, to see the hurt in your eyes.

Taking a deep breath to try (and fail) to calm yourself down, you quickly downed the rest of your drink, thankful to have gone the sober route tonight. You didn’t know what drunk you would’ve done in all this hurt, and you surely didn’t want to find out.

Contemplating whether you should swim your way through the sea of people to the bar, you waited. You waited, and waited, and waited, pleading to the universe that she would meet your eyes.

She didn’t look. 

Not a single glance was sent your way.

She didn’t care. 

Shaking your head, anger quickly turning into disappointment, then sadness, you stepped out of where you were in the corner, having preferred to stay back by the booth as the rest of the girls enjoyed their night. 

Making your way over to the bar, you ordered yourself a water, hoping it would soothe the ache in your chest. 

Downing half of it as soon as the bartender passed it to you, you turned, eyes once again finding purchase on your girlfriend subconsciously.

You watched as she danced with the Chelsea player unashamedly, almost proudly, as if she didn’t have a girlfriend to go home to at the end of the night.

Naive and infatuated, you had never bothered to consider the difference between private and secret back when the idea was suggested to you. Now? Now you utterly resented the distinction between the two words.

Feeling the hair on the back on your neck rising however, you blinked out of your thoughts, quickly zoning back into real life, scanning the room for the cause before ocean eyes met yours. 

Leah.

The blonde was finally looking right at you, the girl in front of her continuing to dance in close proximity, her eyes closed- too gone with the music, to notice her distracted partner.

Raising an eyebrow in silent question, you waited.

You waited for a reaction, an apologetic smile, a mouthed sorry. Something to show she realized how her actions were hurting you. Anything. 

You waited a second, then another, and then another. 

Instead you got nothing, a continued blank look shot your way as she continued looking at you, head tilted.

You were well aware you didn’t have to say much, nearly a year of being in a relationship, a little over two of living together meant she knew you- quite well too, if you had an opinion on the matter. 

In this moment though, it felt like not enough. 

All the memorized takeout orders, her awareness on how you liked your coffee, what your moods were and how to best comfort you in your lows- her knowing all of that didn’t matter if she couldn’t understand how absolutely heartbroken you felt right now, watching her keep away from you, dance with another body that wasn’t yours, marking a win that you both shared, but only one of you were celebrating.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t realize she was hurting you. 

Bringing your drink towards your chest, you ducked your forehead down, letting the cool glass bring you some reprieve to your growing headache, no doubt caused by heartache. 

Wanting nothing more than to leave, teammates be damned- this night was over for you long ago- you placed the glass back on the bar top, thanking the woman behind it once again before heading over to the team’s table.

Quickly grabbing your coat, confident that Leah could find her way home- not out of malice but with the staggering number of your shared friends, teammates, and rival players in the club- you bid adieu to Steph and Kim, the only two by the table, citing a tired body as your excuse. 

Exiting the stifling atmosphere and slipping into the cool air, you took a deep breath in, forcing your shoulders to relax in an attempt to convince yourself you were okay. 

Well aware that Leah’s eyes had followed you out, you committed the sound of only your footfalls in the late night into memory, eyes stinging, shaky breaths escaping you. 

Beginning the trek home, your apartment not too far, you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. 

~~~

It’s much, much, later when you hear the unmistakable jingle of Leah’s keys by your front door- three forty-three am to be exact. 

You weren’t surprised to hear her here. It was very much expected in fact, the blonde spending nearly all her days and nights here since quarantine started, not bothering to move out once you had made things official. 

Sighing at the fact that you hadn’t slept a wink since you had reached home, not for a lack of trying but for having to console your dejected heart, you internally groaned at the thought of dealing with a drunk Leah. 

Putting your grief aside for the time being and rising out of bed, you rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes and padded over to the kitchen just as Leah stumbled into the entry hallway in front of you. 

Taking in the sight before you, you sighed warily. 

The blonde looked absolutely disheveled- hair matted to her forehead but sticking out everywhere, heels in her hand, and exhaustion pouring out of her eyes.

Watching her stagger blindly towards the island, you quickly put an arm around her waist, leading her to sit on a barstool as you silently grabbed her some water.

Placing the glass in front of her, you turned, planning to head into your shared bedroom to get a set of clothes for the midfielder to change into when her groggy voice interrupted your actions, derailing your thoughts.

“You left early…”

The accusatory tone wasn’t lost on you, your defences immediately going up. 

Baffled at how it was your behaviour being questioned, you shook your head in shock. 

“I did,” you state matter-of-factly, turning to face her. 

You paused for a second, waiting to see what the blonde would say next, already on edge from the rollercoaster of emotions from today.

“Why?”

The question put you in a state of incredulity, your anger and hurt resurfacing.

“Why? You’re really asking me why?” Your voice came out louder than you would’ve liked, given the time, but you didn’t pay much mind. 

“Leah, you spent the whole night getting cozy with another girl. The whole night! While I was there! And you’re asking me why I left early?”

“We were just dancing…it’s not like I was making out with her in the middle of the dance floor.” The slurred words combined with the eye-roll from the defender had you shaking your head. “It was completely platonic.”

You couldn’t believe this.

“You’re joking right? Or did you get a concussion mid-game that I don’t know about?” 

“Relax... just because you can’t go a few hours without me doesn’t mean I have to do the same.” 

The slurred words coupled with the nonchalant tone with which Leah expressed herself caused you to lose your breath for a second, mind baffled.

“Did you-,” collecting yourself for a second, you asked her, “…did you just call me clingy?”

Swallowing hard in the silence that followed, you felt your stomach sink.

“You’re really calling me clingy?” The shakiness in your voice made itself known, disbelief becoming apparent.

“It was friendly.” You watched as Leah turned her body away from you, choosing to rest her head on the cool countertop in order to find some relief from her probable headache.

“Was it? You want me to go fucking drape myself all over Millie the next we go out with the United team? Let me know if you feel ‘clingy’ then?” Voice rising more than quiet words once more, you took a step back, trying to put space between you and the other girl. 

“Oh come on it wasn’t that big of a deal…” 

You would have agreed it this hadn’t happened so often, so many times in the past- tonight being your tipping point.

There had already been multiple team events where the blonde stayed the furthest away from you, never bothering to celebrate your goals with you, avoiding any physical contact, almost as if it burned her to be near you. Hiding away any photos you took together, platonic or romantic, in her phone, them never once leaving her library. 

You didn’t know how much more of this you could take, really. 

Ignoring that she couldn’t see you, you shook your head at Leah. Clenching your jaw, you decided to forego taking care of the blonde like you had planned.

“Great, then neither will be you going to bed alone tonight,” you scoffed. 

You saw the midfielder immediately shoot up into a sitting position from her slumped state, eyes wide, body tense.

“We haven’t slept apart since the pandemic, you know that,” her timid voice echoed in the dark apartment.

It was true. You’d both had gotten lucky since and had even been paired up for the handful of times the team had stayed in a hotel, the only time spent apart being during international breaks.

“Well I feel like I was too clingy earlier so I wanna give you space now, since you so clearly crave that.”

“Babe…” 

Well aware that you were too upset to think rationally, you continued ignored Leah’s pleas. Turning on your heel, you started to make your way to grab your pillow and head to the guest room, choosing to kick yourself out rather than disturb the midfielder.

Hearing footfalls behind you, you shook your head as you continued on your path.

“Leah, go to bed. I’m sleeping alone and that’s final.” Your voice came out cold, almost stoic.

The blonde reached for your hand, fingertips barely skimming yours as you harshly pulled your arm to your chest, cradling it.

“Leah I fucking mean it.”

Shoulders dropping, the blonde dejectedly agreed, too out of it to protest again.

Hearing a lack of footsteps behind your own as you made your way across the hall, you shuddered as your heart sank deeper, the weight in your chest settling torturously.

Why did love hurt?

~~~

You didn’t know it but Leah’s miserable the next few days without you. She’s well aware she’d put her foot in her mouth far enough, dug her own grave, but she misses you terribly anyways. 

She misses your hugs in the morning and how you’d let her cuddle you as you cooked breakfast. She misses your kisses and the way you’d randomly just come sit with her during your free time. She misses you being around her, you always hyper, your energy infectious, always brightening her moods. She especially missed your mere presence, you now never spending more time than needed in the same room as her now, instead electing to leave for practice much earlier than needed, picking up takeout and eating in your room, doing anything and everything to ensure you both would never cross paths for longer than a handful of seconds. 

The distance between you had been so noticeable that it didn’t take the team long to catch on, the way you didn’t gravitate to Leah at every given chance during training a stark contrast to your regular shenanigans. 

It had gotten to the point where the team had even been too scared to ask you directly, your frustration clear enough on the pitch with how hard you trained, interactions with the rest of your teammates minimizing as well.

It’s why Beth and Lia had quietly confronted Leah, both uneasy at what had changed between you both. 

“You two okay? She keeps avoiding you at practice, and to be honest, it’s slightly worrisome…” Lia’s voice trailed off as her, Beth, and Leah made it back towards the locker rooms post-practice.

Taking a quick look over her shoulder, not finding you trailing behind, Leah faced the Swiss captain, voice dropping lower. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. She’s just going through some personal stuff. She’ll be okay…”

The ‘I hope so’ went unsaid, but the way Leah’s pitch rose at the end of the statement had the two other player’s eyebrows raising in silent question, thoughts they both chose not to voice on the tip of their tongues.

Nodding in response, the trio continued their walk in silence, no one wanting to push too hard.

Unsaid or not, all three knew that nothing was fine, Leah more so than the others, and it scared her immensely. 

~~~

Stress clear on her face, Leah sprinted off the pitch after the game against Chelsea, chasing you down the tunnel before the rest of the team had even left the field. 

Catching up to your tired body, she grabbed your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction to a more secluded spot, uncaring of how drained you absolutely were.

Too tired from the past few days to refute, you let yourself be pulled.

When the blonde figured you two had made it far enough down the tunnel to talk without being heard, she quickly turned on her heel, stopping and looking at you, face screwed in displeasure. 

“What the fuck was that on the field today? Why were you so aggressive?! You got carded for fuck’s sake- you don’t get carded…ever!”

Sighing, barely scrounging up the energy for the conversation, you closed your eyes, pulling your arm away from her hold.

“I played the game. That’s what I did. Fouls are part of the game,” Your voice was rigid, no fight in you, not after how horribly you’d been sleeping as of late, the argument from nights ago not only affecting the blonde. 

“You played dangerously, that’s what you did! You were irresponsible, careless, and…and reckless! Not to mention selfish! Do you know how much of a difficult situation it would’ve been had you got a red? And with the way that referee was calling fouls, it’s a miracle you didn’t!” 

You could’ve gotten hurt. The words go unsaid.

By now the blonde was nearly yelling, face red from frustration.

Please just let me go.

Biting the inside of your cheek to stay calm, you sighed again.

“Game’s over either way. I didn’t get a red and we won…I don’t see a problem here.” Your voice curt, you made a move to step past the midfielder.

You didn’t get far however, the other girl’s hand coming to grasp your wrist to prevent you from stepping away any further. 

Stopping briefly in your tracks, you didn’t turn. You couldn’t. You couldn’t because if you did, she’d see the tears that were threatening to fall, heart exhausted. 

Instead, you shake your head, tugging your arm out of her grasp and bringing it to cautiously wipe away the few tears that had escaped. 

Watching your figure walk away, Leah’s face fell at your lack of care. 

Dejectedly, she followed you, a fair distance away. Making her own way to the change rooms with a flurry of thoughts in her head and an ache in her chest, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself. 

~~~

Entering the locker room, Leah took a quick look around, the rest of the team nearly showered and changed out of their kits, save for you. 

Ignoring Lia and Katie’s questioning, the blonde walked over to her locker and began to get ready to shower.

Lucky that this was a home game, Leah knew she could take her time.

Taking a quick shower, she tried to casually wait for you to finish up- well aware that you were trying to drag out your own shower, hoping that you wouldn’t cross paths with your girlfriend (ex?- you didn’t really know.) 

The Gunner relented however, making up a lame excuse at Beth’s plea for her to join her on the walk out.

Patiently sitting, nearly alone in the locker room as she watched the rest of the girls file out, she waited. 

She waited as the patter of water ran longer than usual. 

She waited as she slowly heard it come to a stop, an eerie silence consuming the room.

She waited as you finally stepped out minutes later, wet hair tied in a messy but, club gear resting comfortably on your frame. 

She waited as you realized she was still here, eyes widening as a quiet fuck escaped your lips. 

Patience wearing thin now, she stood up, her own bag forgotten as she made her way to you. 

“Listen-“

You didn’t even let her finish though, instead cutting her off before another word could be said, your hand held between you to keep a distance. 

“Honestly? Save it.”

“No, but-“

Shaking your head, you slipped past her, beginning to quickly throw your dirty kit and toiletries into your kit bag.

Silence covered the room for a moment, only the noises of you angrily packing your kit bag to be heard. 

It didn’t last long however, timid words cutting through the tense atmosphere. 

“I’m sorry.”

You froze in your spot at your words, your sweaty jersey just barely dangling in your hands as you inhaled sharply.

Collecting yourself, you shook your head, Leah’s words meaning nothing to you. 

“Okay.”

The blunt, one word reply of yours hit Leah harder than she anticipated, this not at all how she was expecting this conversation to go.

Swallowing hard, she stepped around you, coming to a stop a short ways away, standing between the door and you. 

Wringing her hands nervously, Leah’s voice came out meek, eyes nearly downcast and heart pounding.

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Laughing darkly at the other girl’s words, you stopped your movement again, turning around with your hands resting on your hips, a cold look in your eyes.

“What else do you want me to say?” Clenching your jaw, you gave Leah a blank look. 

“I-…”

Raising her eyes to meet you, the skipper straightened her back out, nerves rising as she took note of how rigid your posture was- how distant you were from her despite only being a few feet apart.

As you realized she wasn’t going to say anything, you decided to confront her on what had been on your mind throughout the second half of the game.

“You wanna explain what I heard at half-time? Because I’d really love to hear how you plan to spin this one on me this time…”

The deer-in-headlights look you got in return let you know she knew exactly what you were talking about.

At half time, just as the players were headed back in, a young fan had nearly begged Leah to sign her jersey. 

Never one to say no to a supporter of women’s soccer, much less of Arsenal and a young teen, Leah had quickly veered off, making small talk with the girl as she signed and posed for a photo.

Everything had been smooth sailing really, in fact, you watched the whole interaction with a smile on your face as you approached the tunnel.

Too bad good things never lasted.

Just as Leah had been ready to walk away from the stands, the young girl had innocently asked the question that had changed your whole mood.

The high pitched voice asking whether you and Leah were dating had easily carried over to you, repeating in your head since, a broken tape recorder you just couldn’t turn off.

What stuck with you however, was the Gunner’s response- the immediate scoff, zero hesitation or regret on her face as the words ‘absolutely not…she’s not my type’ escaped her. Words that were followed by a shrug and a cheeky grin that haunted you for the second half. 

You always had a feeling you weren’t good enough for her, your insecurity a topic of conversation for many nights in the past- nights where the blonde spent countless hours convincing and proving otherwise. 

Now though? Now it all felt like a lie- recollections of all those middle-of-the-night cuddles and hushed conversations making your heart heavy with the way her denial of your relationship came so quickly, so easily. 

Maybe this wasn’t meant to be, not as much you had wished it was.

Since the start of your relationship, when going out, whether it was with the team or just the two of you, Leah would distance herself from you, never sitting beside you even though she claimed you two were the bestest of friends. Choosing to be anybody else’s partner during media days. Hell, even going as far as standing on the opposite side to you during pre-match photos. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t twist the knife in your chest just a little bit more each time that it happened.

If you were honest, you didn’t know how much bigger you could let the gaping wound get, unsure of whether your heart could handle another twist.

It’s why your next words physically hurt you to say, your voice quiet, its echo ringing in your ears.

“if you’re really that embarrassed of me, maybe we shouldn’t even be together…”

A shiver runs through your spine as you continue to look at Leah.

The admission feels heavy, the bright lights of the room unable to lift the somber mood in the slightest.

You can see a shuddering breath wrack her body at your words, and you can feel the distance between you two growing, mere feet feeling like hundreds of metres, goosebumps rising as the room grows significantly colder.

The reply comes slow, but the intensity, the anger, the defence in her voice at the words nearly knocks you back.

“It’s not like that…” 

The words are emotion laced, Leah’s head tilted to the side as her eyes search your face for any indication of what’s on your mind.

“Really? Then what’s it like? Is it just going to be you denying our relationship till the end? Is it just going to be you getting cozy with another girl and calling me clingy and overreactive? Is it just going to be you claiming you’ve done nothing wrong? Telling Lia that I’m going through something?” 

Shaking your head, a wry smile crossed your face. “Don’t be surprised- at least Wally cared enough to make sure I was doing okay, y’know? Something you haven’t asked me once.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me near you…” The timid admission had you shaking your head, displeased with her response.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes closing as you tried to hold back your frustration, you spoke.

“Thats the issue Leah….you just don’t fucking know. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know how this relationship is going to work. You don’t know when you want to tell everyone we’re together. You don’t see how much it hurts me every time you deny that we are anything more than teammates, even friends! You just so happen to not know you’re breaking my heart each and every goddamn day!”

Chest heaving in frustration, you swallowed hard, you ears heating up in embarrassment of your outburst, eyes going everywhere but to the girl in front of you.

 It’s as you contemplate your next words that the blonde sees your anger turn to sadness, eyes dropping, shoulders sinking.

“You know what? I think- I think we’re done Leah.” 

Your voice was a whisper, the words strained, almost as if it cut you to say them.

“I can’t do this. I really can’t…”

“Wait no…”

You shook your head, barely any energy left in you. 

“How many times Leah? How many times are we gonna go back and forth like this? How long do I have to wait for you to get on the same page? It’s nearly been a year for fuck’s sake.”

Taking a deep breath, you grab your bag, your eyes firmly trained on the floor as you side step Leah and take off to your car, not once looking back.

If you had though, you would’ve seen the broken way the taller woman stood at the exit, eyes damp, body rigid in shock, fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to process what had just happened. 

Being snapped out of her daze at the slam of the door shutting by its own weight, the blonde came back to reality, the weight of your words finally sinking in. 

Swallowing hard as the alarm bells went off in her head, she turned on her heel, yanking the door open and running to follow you.

You are nowhere to be found though, she makes her way to the carpark, just to notice you pull out of your spot, not an ounce of hesitation in your actions. 

Hearing a pair of footsteps beside her though, ones that were most definitely not yours, Leah tensed at the thought of another person’s presence where you should be standing.

Glancing over to see Lia, the English captain tightened her jaw, closing her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to hide just how broken she felt right now. 

“She told me to give this to you- said something about having an issue to attend to…” The words came out quiet from Lia, your set of keys for Leah’s home in her hold, dangling in the space between the two national captains, nearly mockingly.

Voice dropping an octave, Lia decided she had enough of the wait, eyes growing in concern at her counterpart’s disheveled look.

“Leah what’s going on between you two? She seemed pretty upset leaving…”

Swallowing, the Gunner knew she had her chance to come clean, to finally admit to herself that she hurt you, more than she ever thought she would.

Instead though, she didn’t- the idea of saying out loud that you left her too unbearably painful to speak into existence.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged instead, schooling her own expression into a somewhat relaxed one, “we didn’t talk much in the locker room, she seemed pretty stressed in there.”

Raising her eyebrows, Lia didn’t seem to buy it but she didn’t push and Leah didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not.

Grabbing the keys firmly from the Swiss’ hold, Leah turned towards the locker rooms once more, this time not bothering to wipe her tears as they fell, glad for the lack of footsteps behind her. 

With no idea as to where you went or when you would be back, she had no option but to wait and hope it would be soon- soon enough that she could rectify her mistakes and make you hers again- the best thing she ever had, gone, just like that.

~

(read part ii here)

[mistymisfit]

first off, I absolutely adore your writing!! It’s got me kicking my feet and giggling.

Can I please request a domestic Dick x reader where they’re having an at home date night (like watching a movie, doing face masks, cooking together - any of those kinda things) and it keeps getting interrupted by Dicks siblings?

thank youuuuu <3 and sorry this took too long (and if the ending feels rushed), hope you like it

warnings: no plot just fluff and batfamily cameos, established relationship, a few dirty jokes, suggestive content, Tim getting traumatized.

wc: 2,2k

You smile to yourself, finally you get to have a normal night with you boyfriend. He's staying at home, having a date night at home, ah the wonders of a dislocated shoulder. His injury would only put him out of action for a couple of weeks since it wasn't that bad, but you would still try to enjoy the time you get with him--even if hes puffing and huffing in annoyance. He's been a vigilante since he was 12 and he doesn't know anything else, so he's especially reluctant to accept the time off. Lucky for him, he's quickly convinced when you tell him how much he deserves a break and that you'll take care of him until he feels better.

"Here, just make sure it doesn't burn" You signal, putting the spoon on his good hand and letting him take care of the sauce.

"Sure" His eyes follow you as you move around his --not so big-- apartment kitchen. You wore one of his t-shirts, why he owned merch of himself was beside you but you couldn't ignore the smile that appeared on his face every time you wore it."So what are the plans for tonight?"

"We're having dinner, then we'll do some face masks," you list off "we could bake brownies if you're up for dessert, and there's this new movie I want to watch"

"Of course I'm up for dessert" He jokes, catching your arm when you step closer to him.

He has a devilish grin when he kisses you, forgetting he was supposed to be cooking dinner with you. You let him distract you, but not before your hand quietly lowers the stove to minimum heat behind him. The spoon falls, left behind as he walks you until you're trapped between the kitchen counter and him. The hand that's not caught in the arm sling cups your face, getting more demanding with the kiss. You sit on the kitchen counter before he asks and he nods, grateful. You're not sure he could lift you up with one arm, even if he's proven the past few days he didn't need both of them to manhandle you as he usually does. The perks of training your entire life.

There's a noise outside the window right when you wrap your legs around him. At first, you both ignore it, but as it repeats again and again, you realize it was not a random noise but someone knocking. There's not that many people who would be able to knock on an eighth story window.

"I'll go," He sighs, reluctantly letting go of you.

You nod, picking up the spoon and washing it on the sink as you try to listen to the hushed conversation. You can tell it was one of his siblings, even if you could only hear half of what they say. So when you finally take a look, hiding behind a wall, you are not surprised to see Damian in his Robin suit in the living room.

"Hi Damian, isn't it a bit too early to be Robin?" You wave

"Richard, you did not tell me that your beloved was here" He recriminates; you think it's adorable to see such a cute thing talking like an old man. He greets you, calling you by your last name as he usually does. Then his nose scrunches up,as if sniffing the air like a cat "are you making...?"

His question is not even finished as he walks past his older brother, who rolls his eyes saying"Yes, it's their gnocchi recipe, yes, you may stay for dinner"

You pout, silently telling him he's cute so he should be more forgiving towards his younger brother. He loves that you like his sibling, the one he raised for a while, but he also hates that all the little demon has to do is make a puppy face and you'd agree to anything.

Later in the evening, you found yourselves hyper focused on a backgammon game. You were both sitting on carpet in the living room, the game set on the coffee table. It was a hilarious sight for you, him competitive as always with his hair pushed back by one of your headbands and brows so furrowed you could see them under his blue face mask. Which he only agreed to do once you sat on his lap and offered to put it on for him; suddenly, all his complaints about "I'll break out" or "I don't like the way it feels on me" silenced. You know he secretly loves doing skincare with you, he just likes what you do to convince him more.

"Stop staring, you're trying to distract me"

"Am not!" You gently shoved his healthy arm, pretending to be offended at the accusation.

"Yes, you are" He childishly sticks his tongue out before moving his piece. You huff, taking the dice and rolling them in your hand but not letting go of them yet.

He moves closer to you, his breath fanning over your neck before you ask; "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't cheat"

"And how would I do that?" You turn your head lightly to look at him.

"That's why I'm looking at you" He shrugs

"Sure," You smile, amused,"and you're not projecting onto me, Richard"

He puts his hand over his chest, as if holding his heart, and pretends to be deeply disturbed by your words. Even going as far as falling on the carpet behind you. Done with his distracting antics, you finally roll the dice. Your lips tug in a big smile when you see the numbers.

"I got two sixes," you announce, and he quickly gets up.

"No way,"

"Yes way" This was your turn of sticking your tongue out to him.

He can't believe how much you're kicking his ass when he was the one who taught you how to play. He wants so badly to kiss that smug grin off your face, and he is about to turn your focus from moving the pieces when someone else surprises you both.

"How old are you two?" Steph jokes, closing the window she came in through

"Hi Steph," you smile "I'm winning"

She steps closer to high-five you as he shakes his head no, disapproving your celebration before adding; "Only 'cause you're cheating" as he gets up.

"Can I have your files on the Riddler, pretty please?" Steph asks, getting to the point of her visit.

He warns you not to touch anything before he gets up to find his secured laptop on his safe. He's going to be out of action for a while, so it's not like he could after him, might as well give them to someone else. When he returns a few minutes later with a flash drive full of the information she needs, he finds you both gossiping on his couch way too comfortably. You gasp as she tells you something, Steph clearly agreeing with your reaction. He waits, he doesn't want to interrupt just yet. His heart feels so full when he sees you get along so well with his family that he wants to save the moment for a little more.

"You got those files?" She asks when she finally notices him standing on the doorway outside the bedroom.

"Yeah," He throws the flash drive and she catches with impeccable reflexes"you're welcome"

"Thanks," She smiles before heading back out the window and telling you;"Kick his ass in that game"

You smile and promise you will, and he looks down to realize just how really over it was for him. So when you're distracted waving at Steph, he kicks the table to move the set. You turn back to see him, and before you can even get mad, he tells you he wants to cuddle up and watch a movie.

You let his little plan work, but not without calling him a sore loser. He pats the space next to him on the couch with a proud grin as he turns the TV on. You roll your eyes, settling down next to his good side so he can wrap an arm around you the way he likes. He may be a sore loser, but you're the one letting him get away with it. Halfway through the movie, you pause to take off the face-masks and catch him staring a little too much in the mirror.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You raise an eyebrow, not believing in his reply"I don't have eye bags and I'm not used to it"

"Duh, you've been sleeping at night like a normal person recently"

"I'll give you a reason to stay up all night" He bites back, his hand skillfully landing on your hips to make sure you stay in place as he takes a step to stand behind you.

"Come on, I wanna see how it ends" You're fast to move out of his hold, God knows how easily you fall for his charm every time.

You cuddle back on the couch hitting play on the horror movie you watched again, the lights were off to help the mood. He liked when you flinched as held him tighter even if the movie was scaring him more than you. You relax with your head on his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his as his sat on your thigh.

"See? Your skin is so soft" You smile, a hand reaching to caress his cheek.

"You're the one who wanted to watch the movie," He puffs "now I wanna know if they exorcise the demon"

You roll your eyes, shifting back your attention to the screen. The movie was building up to a jump scare, the tense music and ambient, something scary was bound to pop up in seconds. What neither of you expected was that the scare was going to come from outside the movie. Cass stepped in front of the TV to get your attention, and you both screamed. Dick could swear the stitches in her mask moved up in a smile as you both held tightly into each other.

"Steph came by and left like an hour ago," He says, once he regains his composure. He's aware now of how down his guard was, it was not normal for him to be startled this easily.

She hums and nods, leaving as fast as she appeared. Giving you both a wave before jumping off your window. Now you're too freaked to go back to the movie. Suddenly, watching horror movies in the dark didn't seem like a good idea anymore, especially when he had a plethora of younger siblings willing to break in at any given moment. His hand rubs your back gently, and you giggle once the adrenaline worn down over how silly it was. He laughs with you, telling you that he's never going to live it down and how they're going to make fun as soon as he sees them again. You smile before pressing a kiss to his lips, he looked too handsome when he laughed.

"I don't want to watch the movie anymore"

"Okay, I can lock the window," he offers, grinning when you nod.

Some time later, you were still on the couch, though now your clothes were scattered around the living room. A sitcom plays instead as you rest on top of him with your head on his chest, the blanket covering until your waist while he has his arms on top of you, his hand tracing circles on your bare back. He was still all smiles and loopy from you riding him, maybe being injured had a good side. Maybe Gotham could afford not having Nightwing every once in a while.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You,"He replies, flustering you and making you hide your face in his chest. "maybe I could stay in with you"

You lift your head to look at him, eyes shining with joy before he says; "Once a month" You pout in response, even if it's better than nothing.

"Maybe I convince you to once a week" You flirt, your lips finding the spot in his neck he likes having kissed way too much.

"Once every two weeks," He smirks, his hand going from your back to your hips again.

"Dick!" A younger voice yells from a different room in the apartment, "Why did you give Steph your files?! I called dibs on them when you got inj-"

He's quick to react, pulling the blanket higher to cover you. He is almost as fast to scold his younger brother; asking how did he come in as the other profusely apologizes, covering his eyes and turning his back. Your face heats up, you have never been more embarrassed in your entire life. you hide under the blanket as he reaches for his underwear, which luckily was close enough that he didn't have to get up to get it. If any humor was left in you, you'd laugh at him showing Tim the way out as he teaches him a lesson on basic boundaries and the consequences of breaking into someone's place. You would've laughed at Tim's comment of needing therapy to delete the image from his head if it happened to anyone else.

"I'm never showing my face to your family again" You say once he comes back and he laughs, clearly taking this way better than you.

[rkiveinmarvel]

upon a different life - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, establishing relationship, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers, i miss bucky, avengers being siblings (and weak for plot),mentions of violence,

hello! it's my bucky fic! i had a bucky fic back then but I deleted it anyway, this was supposed to be a one part but i got carried away, enjoy barnes knowing you! *i wrote this around 3am so, if i have some mistakes, i'm sorry!!*

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 3.5k

James Buchanan Barnes is slowly getting used to in living with Avengers and the era he is in, in general, he enjoys the slowly yet steady step to forgive himself and earn forgiveness to those people around him as well familiarizing the more advanced world, but nightmares and remarks of his past action come and go; everyone notices it, especially his friend Steve Rogers, but despite this minor setback, he still move forward because it’s not every day, that you die in the 80s and woke up 75 years later. 

In terms of forgiving, the sergeant doesn’t know if the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist have forgiven him—it’s not a secret Stark gives the money and sponsor on the compound they live in but despite his hesitation to live with them, Stark still offered him—it might be a silent agreement with Rogers but somehow, Barnes hopes Stark acknowledges how sorry he was. 

But among other things, he wishes he can finally get used to. He finds himself not getting used to you. Even the entire team knows how much James hates you; to you, it’s no secret: you’re his last handler afterall and if the tables are different, you would hate Barnes too. Before Zemo took control of Barnes as Winter Soldier, you were his last boss, a menace actually, you would let him be used. He gets used by someone, you get rich, a simple deal between HYDRA and you. But that changed, when the Winter Soldier regained his memory; with no leverage in making a deal with HYDRA, the Black Widow offered you a place to stay.

It was a nice place, really, a lot nicer than the one you lived in, except, maybe for the fact that you’re still under someone jurisdiction: while the sergeant is able to roam around the city, you keep staring at the wonderful electronic tag in your ankle: in your deduction, you believe that the Avengers are only keeping you alive because of what you know—it’s not even sympathy why the Black Widow offered you stay with them, it’s more of a business. 

From the moment you receive glares from everyone in the room, you know damn well that this is just another business. So, it is indeed a surprise, when the A.I enters your room.

“Ha, did Stark send you to check on me again, Vision?” You asked as the artificial intelligence gave you a look. Despite the team’s lack of enthusiasm with you, Vision, Clint, and Thor are the only ones who seem to talk to you. You have talks with Natasha, Tony, and Bruce as well, but it is more of a business than a talk. 

“No, I was wondering if you wish to join me, Clint, and Wanda to watch Dick Van Dyke, she seems very excited about it.”

“What makes you think she wants me to join you guys?” You asked hypothetically.

Vision nodded as he glanced at your electronic tag. “If it makes you feel better, they don’t really hate you that much. In my defense, I think you only did the things you have done because you want to survive.” You scoffed as you said that. 

“Well, tell that to Sergeant Bar–” but Vision cut you off. “People won’t always use you. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you realize you’re more than just a HYDRA pawn.” You stared at him, as he continued. “At least, that’s what I observed with Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks, Vision.” You gave a bland smile, as he left your room. A part of you wants forgiveness, but for someone who learnt life in a hard way, you’re hesitating to give this one a try. Yet for once, a robot was more human than you.

A year after an endless discussion between the Avengers, they decided to remove the electronic tagging and let you roam freely, but still under their jurisdiction. Somehow, Stark and Banner acknowledge your knowledge while the rest give respect to your fighting ways and quick judgment; well, all of them are getting used to you. Well, maybe except for Bucky. Steve told you it takes time, but to your knowledge, it won’t take time because it won’t happen. You accepted the terms that Barnes will not and never forgive you, you don’t blame him though, mostly you blame yourself.

In this scene, you finally learn to adjust, not going out of your room if he was outside, not training–the same time as him, and definitely not talking to him; even a spare glance, felt like a struggling pain of unforgiven lingering. The team respected Barnes more than they respected you, but somehow, it felt like you finally belonged to something. Well, atleast, that’s what you thought.

Their mission to infiltrate HYDRA failed terribly, despite the information you gave them, they weren’t prepared and outnumbered. Despite their failure, they were able to take a hit on HYDRA’s camp, it’s not much but still affected HYDRA. As the quinjet landed on the hangar, the medical team supported those who were injured. A lot of them were, including those who sometimes get out without a scratch.

In the med bay: you saw Clint and Sam—they somehow, took a toll, as you walked further, you saw the entire team taking care of their small cuts, with them helping another, they were able to close the wounds, well, maybe except for the Winter Soldier—or as they call him the White Wolf. On the back of his right shoulder, he was bleeding badly, despite having all the needed things to tend his wounds around him, he sat on the bed feeling out of place, besides it’s only a shoulder wound. 

Due to the lack of people in the med bay, you offered help in the team. As you finished to tend some of the team’s wounds including Rogers’ and Romanoff’s. Your eyes met a struggling Bucky Barnes, grasping his right shoulder with his metal arm. Your footsteps were slow as you walk towards him.

“...Do you need help?” He wanted to say no, everything part of him says no, but as he glanced that there’s no person who can help him in his injury, he nodded. Afterall, you’re also the one who patches him up whenever he gets injured in his missions back then.

You carefully clean his wound as you tend him, you wipe the dirt and the things visible that might infect the wound, as you try to start a talk. “Was it bad out there? In the mission, I mean..” He just let out a grunt, which you expected, but he replied with. “They have three more Super Soldiers and one enhanced, just like Wanda.”

You didn’t respond, just continued stitching his wound. As you finish, you put on some bandages as he asked. “Did you know?” Barnes asked.

“Did you know about the Super Soldiers?” He asked again, for a quick moment, you realized that he is still an assassin, you felt his anger and bloodlust. At that moment, you wish you didn’t work with HYDRA. In truth, you didn’t know where they were but you knew HYDRA didn’t stop making them. But your stuttering left the Sergeant furious even more.

“I–I..” That was the only thing you could say when you suddenly felt his metal hand around your neck, at other times this can be hot and daring, but at this time, you were damn sure that the Sergeant would be able to crack your neck: he could kill you. The team in the med bay immediately sat up. 

“Buck, put her down.” You assumed it was Rogers who was talking to the Sergeant. As it was getting hard to breath, James starts to explain that you knew there were Super Soldiers, in that Rogers asked you. 

“Did you actually know?” Barnes shook you, as you met the Captain’s eyes. “I did.” Before James finally kills, you continue. “I didn’t know they were stationed there.”

If this was a HYDRA facility, they would’ve shot you despite you telling the truth, Wanda nodded, a confirmation that you were telling the truth. Steve asked Bucky to let go of you, with an angered stare, he let go. As you try to catch your breath, you notice some of the bandage of Rogers came off. You reached your hand to help him but a metal hand covered your wrist. 

“Stop pretending to be a good guy, we know you’re глупая игрушка of HYDRA.” He grabs your wrist tighter. “You’re not even part of the team.” That was the last straw, you pulled your wrist away, as you searched for someone to stand with you but all you saw was them looking away from you, even Vision. You nodded as you felt some tears sting. You never actually belonged in the team. Just like Barnes said, a глупая игрушка. 

A stupid toy.

Stark spotted you, making tea in the middle of the night. “So, you’re the one that’s drinking tea.” His voice echoed in the empty kitchen. You nodded as you asked him if he wanted some, as he nodded. “Heard what happened.”

“Of course, you do.” Stark eyed you as you finally sat down and Stark rolled his eyes. “I forgave Terminator a while ago.” You looked at him.

“I know he took everything from me, but, I guess it’s just the way it is…Pepper is really good at convincing , I give her that, well, maybe because we–”

“Are pregnant…?” You asked, in which Stark immediately shook his head and chuckled. “Well, no, but, I just want peace, you know.” 

“That’s a bit out of character.” You commented. “Ah, the secret service have their humor.” The billionaire chuckled. As he glanced at the stair towards the rooms. “You did not know about the soldiers but, the information you gave was really helpful. We can start with that.” As Stark stood up. He added.

“Oh, and next time, make sure you suit up. You can tag along in the mission if you want, secret service.” Stark walked away with a smug smirk. “You sure, they’ll allow me in the field, Mr. Stark?”

“Maybe not. But, we have a higher chance of winning if they don't know what they’re up against.” He said as he left. But, when the morning comes, there’s no trace of you—only the cup of tea you shared with Tony and a room filled with your stuff, as well as, a folder with all of HYDRA’s information and coordinates in sticky notes. As the team assembled, they wondered if you were stolen from them or you were actually planning to betray them a long time ago.

And there’s only one way to find out.

As the Avengers rode the quinjet, Stark drove peacefully as Romanoff shared her side. “Steve, if we do this and see her there, we can’t save them like we did back then.”

“We didn’t save her, Romanoff. We used her…” Steve added. “But, you guys cared for them too.” His eyes fall on Bucky. “Buck, I know this is—”

“It’s a mission. As long as we’re done. I don’t care what happens to them.” James added.

As they reach the base of HYDRA, with the coordinates in the folder, they immediately search for you, but to their mistake, they fall right into a trap. Not even their strongest and the witch was able to see the trap, as they sat and chained in chairs, Natasha cracked a joke.

“This is probably their revenge.” In which none of them find them funny. Especially the guy with a metal arm. As the time passes with the endless blabbering of the man on the computer, lights and warning signs alarmed the area: as the Avengers look for an escape. It was an unfamiliar site, even for Bucky, all of the soldiers on HYDRA are getting deployed, what could possibly be the reason? As the chain, holding the Avengers finally loose, they stood up immediately, they ran in the door meeting you.

“ROGERS?!” You asked breathlessly. They were all confused but much more concerned about the blood painting your entire body. “Oh, it’s not mine.” You said in a smile. “We have to run, quinjet is outside the building.” As the team sprinted outside, surprise to see the number of bodies you took down. 

“You took them all down?” Natasha asked as the quinjet was finally visible. “Ah, yeah. I was raised by them so, nevermind, we have to go.”

It was going so well, but in the escape, a lot of missiles were aimed at the quinjet, as you, Sam, Tony, Wanda, and Sergeant Barnes fought the trailing jet in the back of quinjet, James rode a jet that is about to crash with another, he dodged the explosion but fell unconscious. Without thinking, you jumped out of the quinjet to save his unconscious body, hoping it’s water underneath all the chaos. 

As the cold temperature of water hit you, you swam to get the sergeant’s body. People in quinjet knew what happened, but in the height of the situation, they had no choice but to continue to flee; hope to save the sergeant and you, tomorrow.

The sergeant woke up in a bed made of leaves and an open night-sky. As he familiarize with his surroundings, he saw the heat radiating from a bonfire and you sitting by the shore. It was as if you sensed him.

“You’re finally awake.” You said as you walked towards him; he immediately tensed up. “Oh, right.” you placed the sugarcane on the sand as you sat down. “Tony would probably search for us tomorrow, once the sky is cleared.” You added but he is still weary of your presence. 

“What’re you playing at?” He asked, as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You being a goody-two-shoes, you know, none of us trust you.” He added finally, grabbing the sugar cane munching it. “And now, you leaving and suddenly appearing at the HYDRA facility, makes you more of a traitor than a help to us, so, what’s really your play?”

“...I want to help—”

“You have a funny way of showing it…” He grumbled as you replied. When you hear him grumble, you grab a swiss knife in your pocket, as you did when he was on guard but then, you place it on the sand and look at him. “I wasn’t there because I wish to betray anyone, I was there because…..” 

You sighed and looked at him. “I wanted to apologize to you. What I did in those years is unforgivable, hell, even I would be angry if I was in your position. I wanted to apologize to you and your family, the one you grew up with. I want to see if HYDRA knows about them, in that way, I can apologize for manipulating Winnifred’s only son and Rebecca’s only brother.” 

Bucky stared at you. “But who am I kidding, it is full of shit..I just really hoped because—I finally felt like I was part of a team. It’s a bit much, right? I was ahead of myself.” You chuckled. As you stare at the sea, you continue. “The swiss knife will be there, do whatever you want with it. Whether you used it for survival or against me, it’s up to you.” You smiled at Bucky.

“This probably will make you hate me even more but it truly means everything, I am really sorry, Bucky.” 

That was the first time he heard you mutter his name. His first time seeing you smile. His first time hearing you say sorry; his first time seeing you.  As the night grew deeper, you fell asleep, except for the guy with a metal arm, he fidgeted with the swiss knife and kept glancing at you. He has you, he can kill you, revenge. With a lot of contemplation; balancing his morals, he stood up, gripping the swiss knife tightly and went to your sleeping body.

He was really thankful that you were asleep.

You watch from upstairs as you see the God of Thunder, the White Wolf, and Captain America struggle with their new phone given by Stark.

“10 Bucks says Barnes will break it.” Sam told you as he stood watching the three as well. “20 Bucks says Odinson will be the one who will break it.” You added; to anyone’s surprise, it was Steve who made the screen crack. 

“Dammit.” Sam muttered as you noticed his suit. “Got a date or something?” Sam just nodded and said something about meeting his sister in the bank, as he left, you called Barnes out. “Sergeant, we’re losing daylight, let’s go.” You said as he ran upstairs, leaving the compound as well, with you next to him. 

He grips the swiss knife tightly, as he walks to your unconscious body as he shakes you awake.  “Hey.” he muttered slowly: “Did you find them? Rebecca, I mean…” In your state, you would have said something random but as you met his eyes, he was just pleading as you nodded, he retracted the knife and handed it to you. 

“Go say your apologies to them then. Bring me to them.” In that he awkwardly smiled but was sincere. “Okay.” As he went to his side on the sand, he then sighed, “It means everything, Thanks for saying that.” With a soft heart, you slept soundly and Barnes did too as the sand felt more like the best bed in town.

As you drive, Barnes asks how you find his family. “It was more of how HYDRA hid it, what surprised me is that—they don’t pick dead bodies up in the 40s?” In that, Bucky eyed you. “What do you mean? I fell of the—”

“If I was like one of the bosses, I would’ve.” Bucky sighed. “It was war back then, it was better to leave them, I guess.” You sighed and acknowledged his explanation. As you two reach Brooklyn, his eyes wander. “First time back in Brooklyn?” he nodded as he explained how different times were. He wasn’t talkative much, but you saw how his eyes lit up when the corners of Brooklyn hit him home. As we reach the cemetery, you glance at the grave.

“This is Rebecca’s and your Mom’s. I couldn’t find anything on your father, I’m sorry.” As Barnes walked out the car with flowers in his hand, you watched him but then he opened your door, “Aren’t you going to apologize to them too?” You smiled and got out of the car, “I did say that.”

We stayed there for a few minutes, as Bucky walked to get something in the car, he heard your voice talking to them as if they were still alive, it felt new to him, this side of you, it’s more warmer than before. He walks cautiously as he slowly hears a bit of your words. “Rebecca and Mrs. Barnes you have an amazing brother and a son.” 

Despite everything and hate lurking in his chest towards you, his painful experience, he was willing to give this forgiveness a shot, because he was a human and not a machine. 

As the two of you drove back to the compound, the silence was now replaced with a calmer one, which Bucky glanced at you. “Something wrong?” He asked you. 

“No, it’s just, I don’t know what we should talk about, I’m still getting used to this too. Food that is warm, going to places that don't require guards, a bit warmer home, and bright home, and a house full of people, still getting used to it, I guess.” You explained.

“Well, me and you are on the same boat.” He added assuring you. The ride back was more of a relaxed one, as you heard Bucky’s stomach growl. “We should eat something.” Before he could protest, you parked the car and you two went inside a diner. 

As you two sat, you kept glancing at the machine on the edge of the table, as you saw Bucky eyeing it as well. “What is it?” You asked him, as he cleared his throat. “A Jukebox.” but your lack of response made him look at you. “You don’t know what—”

You shook your head. “Well, with HYDRA raising me I only know the static radio.” You explained, looking away awkwardly. “Oh, it’s a music box, like a vinyl but you need a quarter to play a song.” He explained as you nodded. “I have a quarter.” As you give him the quarter, he signals you to press a button to play music.  As you two eat a meal in the diner: the low volume of Chet Baker’s I Never Been In Love Before plays, it is safe to say that two people felt more human than before and a lingering warm feeling in their chest. Safe to say, they’ve never been in love before.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[literaryavenger]

You're Still My Sunshine

Summary: A year later, a lot has changed.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Grief. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 750

A/N: This is just a little drabble to continue You Were My Sunshine, hope ya like it.

Masterlist | Part 1

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

A year later

“Hi, mom.” You kneel down in front of the grave, placing down the bouquet of blue roses.

You look around the cemetery for a moment, if anything just out of habit to make sure there’s no danger, but you’re alone.

“Happy birthday.” You look back at the grave, cleaning it a little by brushing off the weeds on it.

“Another year, huh?” You say quietly. “A lot happened… And I’m not sure how we got here, but…”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a hand on your shoulder but you don’t bother turning around.

“I’m sorry, baby, it took me a little to find the candle.” Bucky’s voice rings in your ear as he kneels down beside you.

You look at your boyfriend, smiling at him as he lights the candle on the cupcake and passes it to you. 

Like usual, you look at it for a moment before you blow it out and you can’t help the tear that rolls down your cheek, except this time Bucky’s there to promptly wipe it away.

You spend the next few hours there, the both of you talking to the tombstone and to each other while Bucky holds you and wipes your tears away.

When you’re back at the Compound, the team is gathered around the living room watching a movie.

“I still can’t believe Elsa is the only one you allow to know about your special day.” You roll your eyes at Tony’s nickname for Bucky while the team snickers.

“Actually,” You start while you and Bucky sit down on the couch next to Steve. “I… I’m ready to tell you guys.” 

You’re a little hesitant, but for the past year you and Bucky have talked about it a lot, since you started dating you’ve opened up to him in a way he didn’t even know was possible considering you were already the most open person Bucky’s ever met.

And it felt good, you thought to yourself, and you decided last night you were ready to open up to the rest of your family too.

So you tell them everything, every little detail of the things you do, explaining why you do them because they were your mom’s favorite things. They’re understanding, not loving that you went through all that on your own, but they respect your choice and were glad you now allowed Bucky to be there for you. And, with some more grumbling from Tony, they accept that you aren’t ready to have them all there with you yet.

But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t do anything for you…

Another year later

You almost don’t recognize the grave, having to double check the tombstone to make sure it’s the right one.

And it is, only it’s full of flowers, teddy bears, papers and Avengers action figures for some reason. 

You’re as confused as Bucky when the two of you kneel down and you reach for one of the papers and you start chuckling when you see it’s a message from Tony, to you. It’s clear that he wrote it to make you laugh, full of sarcasm and jokes, and Bucky’s glad to see it’s working.

You read all the notes one by one, all from the team to you, between tears and chuckles, and you can’t be more grateful to have found this family.

You almost forget that this year you have big news, the engagement ring sitting on your finger shining with the sunlight.

I have a lot of things to tell you, mama, you think to yourself while absentmindedly stroking your stomach, where you found out just yesterday your very own little ray of sunshine is growing.

Yes, things are definitely getting better.

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 1)

Summary: Dropping out of college and moving back in with your parents is embarrassing when you live in a small town, where news and rumors spread fast. You have a chance encounter with a man that just moved into town, not realizing your life is about to get a lot more exciting.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, implied kidnapping, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I did a vampire au. I wanted to do a twist on Las Plagas where it turns people into vampires, also I was very much inspired by @nexysworld's vampire!Leon bot (which is excellent huehuehue). This fic takes place in the late 1980s, so canon stuff is completely thrown out the window so if that's not your thing, kindly move along.

Oakvale is a fictional town nestled in the heart of New Hampshire's White Mountain region and based heavily on my own experience growing up in small town New England. Shout out to my fellow New Englanders! 🥰

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

Title inspired by Jason performed by The Midnight

Line break Divider by cafekitsune

You stand at the end of the walkway leading up to your childhood home in Oakvale, New Hampshire, holding your luggage in one hand. You take deep breaths, preparing yourself for a nasty welcome home. You can still hear your father’s rage filled voice from your phone call a few days prior. You had decided to drop out of college. You were failing your classes and you couldn’t cope with hectic college life. Your mom, on the other hand, while disappointed in your decision, understood that this was your choice and that you were an adult now.

You had gone to college at the University of Illinois majoring in accounting under your father’s strict guidance in hopes that you would graduate and then run the finances for his car repair business. He was only going to help pay for college if you majored in accounting, so you had agreed begrudgingly. You were terrible at math and hated working with numbers, it was no wonder you were struggling.

You collect your thoughts, exhale loudly and approach the front door, wheeling your luggage behind you. You stand before the front door, giving it a few light knocks. You hear movement inside the house and the sound of your mother yelling down that she is coming. The front door opens and you’re greeted with your mother’s smiling face; a very welcome sight, beating the alternative.

“Sweetheart!” your mom exclaims, wrapping her arms around you, “how was your flight?”

“It was alright, I was able to sleep most of the way,” you reply as your mom leads you into the house. 

You glance into the living room as you walk into the house, seeing your father watching the weather channel. He won’t even look at you or acknowledge you. Your mom sees the distress in your face. She stands in front of you, grasping your arms gently.

“Pay him no mind, sweetie, I’ve given him strict instructions to not talk about college with you. Give him time, he’ll get over it,” your mom lets go, continuing to lead you to your bedroom, “he needs to understand that you are an adult and can make your own decisions. He knew going into this that you hated math, it’s his own fault for pushing you so hard.”

You're comforted by your mother’s words as the two of you reach the precipice of your bedroom. She opens the door for you and you are met with your childhood bedroom, exactly how you left it before you went off to college three years ago: floral bedding, light pastel pink walls, matching white furniture and boy band posters and polaroids of you and your friends attached to the walls. You make a mental note to redecorate, but that can wait until later. 

Later that evening, you join your parents in the dining room for dinner. Your Mother made your favorite: pasta in tomato sauce with kielbasa, squash and zucchini. Despite the fact it was late September, the family garden was still providing fresh vegetables. At first, you all eat in silence; you don’t dare make eye contact with your father. He seems to be too absorbed in the newspaper anyway. After agonizing minutes of silence, your father finally speaks to you for the first time since you came home.

“I got you a job at the gas station, you start Monday.”

You stop mid-bite, looking at your father dumbfounded before glancing at your mother, who smiles at you. He’s referring to the one gas station in town, just on the edge of town leading to the highway.

“Th-Thank you, Dad… that’s very kind of you…” you say before continuing your meal.

All the while, you hear the TV that’s still on in the living room, playing the news, “Fish and Game is still searching for 25 year old Alicia Walker, who hasn’t been seen since Wednesday when she told her family she’d be hiking up Mt. Lafayette--”

“Oh dear… they still haven’t found that hiker, Mick?” your mom says, looking over at your father.

Your father shakes his head in dismay, “nope. Seems to be happening a lot lately, that’s the third hiker in about a month, too.”

“Hikers are going missing?” you chime in before chewing your food.

“Unfortunately. That’s what happens when you go hiking in the Notch unprepared. Promise me you’ll never hike alone,” your father says to you in a stern tone.

“Of course, Dad, I’m not stupid.”

“Good,” your father replies with a nod before he continues eating, “pasta’s delicious Sandi.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The weekend goes by in a flash and, before you know it, it’s Monday; your first day at your new job at the gas station. It’s an easy enough job, just working the cash register as people come in to buy things and get gasoline for their vehicles. What your father had failed to tell you, however, is that he got you the late shift: 6:00pm to midnight. The day shift person, an older woman named Peggy, who also trained you briefly, let you know that police officers often stop in at night to check on things, giving you some comfort. Oakvale wasn’t a bad town by any means, but this gas station was also close to the highway; anyone could come in.

That is made apparent when the chief of police himself stops in around 10:00pm, Chief Robert Dion, but most people in town just call him Chief Bob or just Chief. He was a burly man with a large mustache that he used wax to curl the ends; he almost looks like a cartoon character. His hair and beard are starting to show his old age. You recall he’s a nice man; you smile at him from behind the cash register as he walks through the door.

“Chief Bob! Long time no see!”

“Well, hey there little lady! Mick told me you were working at the gas station now! When did you get back into town?”

“Friday afternoon. I’m… not cut out for college, I guess…” you reply, your tone becoming morose.

“Hey! Don’t get down! Take some time to yourself and try again.” he says, leaning up against the counter on one arm. 

“Thanks Chief. What’s the latest gossip in town? I’m sure I’ve missed a ton in three years.”

“Mostly about those missing hikers. I’m sure you heard--”

The sudden roar of a motorcycle cuts him off as a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulls up to one of the pumps outside before cutting the power. You watch from your peripheral vision as the driver gets off the bike. You draw your attention back to Chief Bob.

“As I was saying… I’m sure you heard about the missing hikers.”

You nod, “yeah, it was on the news when we were having dinner on Friday.”

You hear the electronic chime on the door go off as someone walks in and that’s when your eyes settle on what is quite possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket with worn denim jeans and work boots. Chief Bob moves out of the way to let the man come to the register. Your heart can’t help but race in your chest as your eyes are locked on the man.

“Can I get $5 on pump uh…” the man leans to look out the window at the number of the pump he parked at outside, “four?”

“S-Sure, of course! $5 please,” you reply, kicking yourself internally for stuttering. 

The man pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, setting down a five dollar bill. Your eyes drift to his hands to check to see if he’s wearing a wedding band on his left ring finger; you don’t see one. Shifting your gaze back up, you see that his eyes are suddenly locked on yours; he gives you a playful smirk and winks before he turns to walk out.

“You’re out awfully late,” Chief Bob says to the man as he walks by.

“Had some errands to run. Take care Chief,” the man replies before walking back outside to fill his bike.

Your eyes are once again locked on the man before Chief Bob’s voice draws your attention back, “I think that’s the guy that bought ol’ Archie Mason’s place about a month ago.”

Archie Mason. Now that’s a name you haven’t heard in a while. You knew him as Mr. Mason, a curmudgeon of a man that lived on a dead end road in the woods by himself in town. As kids, you’d dare each other to go to his house, knock on his front door and see who could run the fastest before getting caught. Mr. Mason hated children.

“When did Mr. Mason die?” you ask as you get the $5 bill the handsome man gave you into the cash register. 

“I think… two years ago? The house finally went through probate and was sold. That guy moved in and has been fixing it up ever since. Usually see him at Rocky’s.”

Rocky’s is a hardware store in Oakvale, a popular spot for all the younger and middle aged men in town, right up there with Moe’s bar, which was conveniently right next door to the hardware store. You hear Chief Bob talking to you still, but you can’t focus. Instead, your attention is on the mystery man pumping gas into his motorcycle, your heart all aflutter.

You wake up around 9:30am Wednesday morning, shuffling over to your closet to put on some clothes. Afterwards, you go into the bathroom to fix your hair, brush your teeth and put your makeup on. All the while, you can hear your father hard at work in the garage on someone’s car through the various open windows in the house. You decide to pay him a visit after you get yourself put together.

You go outside, walking over to the adjacent auto repair shop, stopping to glance up at the sign hanging off the building: Mick’s Auto Repair. Every business in town had this unspoken rule that their business had to have their name in it; Mick’s Auto Repair, Rocky’s Hardware, Moe’s Bar and Grille, Sally’s Sew Shop, just to name a few. You continue walking, walking into the shop through the open garage door.

“Hey Dad!” you call out, looking around before seeing your father’s legs sticking out from under the car he’s working on. 

You watch as he rolls out from under the car, his face, clothing and hands covered in oil stains. He looks up at you, his eyes squinting from the sun leaking into the garage. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Mason had died.”

“Oh… yeah… died in his sleep. The old fart was 92. Didn’t really come as a shock to anyone.” your dad replies, rolling himself back under the car.

“Do you know anything about the guy that bought the house?” you continue to pry, crossing your arms as you look down, addressing your father’s feet. 

“Yeah, his name’s Leon, I think. Moved in from D.C. if I heard right. What about him?”

“Oh… nothing… he came into the gas station the other night…” you reply, your voice trailing out as the butterflies stir up in your gut thinking about him.

Leon… that suits him, you think to yourself. 

“Now don’t you go getting any ideas, the last thing you need right now, young lady, is to be distracted by some boy. He’s too old for you anyway-- oh fuck!” your father curses as you hear something snap from under the car, rolling back out with a broken wrench in his hand.

“That’s not good,” you comment, watching as your father shoots you a glare. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh, “can you run over to Rocky’s real quick and get me another one? I’d go but I’m caked in oil. Don’t need Rock yelling at me for tracking oil into his store again. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure, no problem! I’ll be right back!” you say, heading back into the house to grab your purse from your bedroom. 

You grab the broken wrench from your father so you make sure to get the right one and head out. The hardware store is about a 15 minute walk from your house, so you decide to just walk, enjoying the crisp hair and sun of early fall. Coming upon Rocky’s Hardware, you step inside, a bell hanging off the door ringing as you walk in. 

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Mick’s little girl! How’s it going, sweetheart?” Rocky says from the cash register. 

Rocky is another older man, medium build with a head full of gray hair and a big, bushy gray mustache.

“Hey Rocky!” you reply as you pull your father’s broken wrench from your purse, “Dad broke another wrench, sent me to get another one for him.”

“Jesus… they don’t make them like they used to, do they? Aisle 6 dear, on the left.” Rocky says, gesturing into the store.

“Thanks Rock,” you say before proceeding to the aisle in question; however, when you turn to walk down the aisle, you stop dead in your tracks.

Leon, the man from the gas station the other night, is standing in the aisle looking at hardware, which is on the opposite side of the tools. You stand there, staring at him like an idiot, your heart pounding in your throat. As if sensing your presence, the man turns to you, giving you that same smirk from the other night.

“You’re that cute girl from the gas station,” he says; it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He remembered you. He also called you cute, making your stomach twist in anxiety. 

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to say before working up the courage to walk into the aisle to look at the tools.

Leon’s eyes stay on you as you approach, watching as you draw your attention to the tools.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a hardware store?” he asks playfully, you can hear him smirking as he moves to stand next to you.

“Oh… my Dad broke his wrench. He asked me to get him another one.” you reply, trying desperately not to let your nerves get the better of you as you show Leon the broken wrench. 

“Oh dear! Let’s see…” Leon starts as he looks up at all the different tools, reaching up to grab one of the wrenches hanging off the display, “this one looks like the same wrench, here you go.”

Leon hands you the new wrench, his fingers lightly caressing yours as he pulls his hand away, a gesture that is not missed by you. You feel your cheeks flush as you tuck the broken wrench back into your purse.

“Thank you mister…?”

“The name’s Leon Kennedy. But please, just call me Leon.” he replies, making eye contact with you, “what’s your name?”

You pause for a moment before you practically stutter your name out. You watch as Leon smiles at you, his eyes taking you in as he looks up and down at you.

“That is a lovely name,” he says, the compliment hitting you straight into your core; you feel your panties become slick.

“Th-Thank you… you have a nice name, too.”

Leon gives you a gentle pat on your shoulder, “I gotta go pay for my stuff. Hopefully we can see more of each other, yeah?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment before nodding, “Yes! I… I’d like that, too…”

He gives you a wink before he turns to walk out of the aisle and up to the cash register, where you hear him make small talk with Rocky. You are frozen in place in a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. You wait until you hear the bell on the door ring before you go up to the register to pay for the new wrench. 

You couldn’t get home fast enough, your entire being a bundle of nerves. Once you get home, you walk through the open garage door to give your father the wrench. You find he’s not in the garage, so you walk back into the house, only to find him standing in front of the TV in the living room, watching the news.

“Dad, I got the wrench--” you begin to say as you cut yourself off, seeing there’s a breaking news report playing on the TV, “what’s wrong?”

Your father turns to you, his look is forlorn, “another hiker went missing, they were last seen Monday.”

That night, after getting home from your shift at the gas station, you toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable. You can’t get Leon off your mind. Tossing your comforter off you, you lay on your back, propping your legs up and spread them as your right hand dips under the hem of your underwear, your fingers finding your clit to rub slow circles into it.

As you lose yourself to your own pleasure you moan Leon’s name softly, closing your eyes to picture the way his beautiful blue eyes looked up and down your body earlier today, the way his jeans hugged his slender hips. You could almost smell his leather jacket. Your fingers pick up the pace on your clit, causing your hips to buck into your fingers as you chase your high, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly. 

You turn your head towards your windows, slowly opening your eyes, only for your breath to be caught in your throat as you spot a pair of glowing red eyes peering into your window. You watch as the eyes suddenly dart away from the window, thumping sounds quickly following. You quickly pull your hand out from your underwear and practically jump out of bed to your window, throwing it open to look out. You look around, seeing nothing in the darkness. Your bedroom is on the second floor, it couldn’t have been a person. People don’t have glowing red eyes.

You take deep breaths, realizing your thoughts are only psyching yourself out. It was just your imagination in the heat of you getting yourself off, you decide, before you shut your window, locking it. Just in case. You walk back over to your bed, collapsing into it, your arousal having been scared out of you, so you quickly drift off to sleep.

Part 2

[accio-victuuri]

okay, you know what, i will talk about it now before i get buried in watching the show and editing. plus i also work to do lol. anyway, what cpfs are screaming about is this portion of the live stream where the host said : wish the both of them can stand side by side on top of the snowy mountain ; referring to the characters on the show, wei ruolai and shen tunan. it’s actually fine of you think about it, this saying is not all exclusive to bxgs and bjyx. maybe she was just saying it since it applied to the conversation and her hopes for the characters.

but what gets us 👀

1. the host’s reaction lol. how she went out of frame like she is embarrassed or maybe realized what she said. but i don’t think it was said with malicious intent. i hope she doesn’t get attacked.

2. WANG YIBO’S SMILE WTF. Dude. I’m out here poker face-ing my way when this was said but he was all obvious and 😏😏😏 like he knows and appreciates what was said. he was smile-y and sort of talkative and gracious in the live, but this smile was something else. it was so freakin sweet! helppp! he is not making it easier for us. you can say he appreciates it and that’s why he smiled but this is someone who definitely knows what that phrase means and it’s relation to him. cpfs took light signs of that phrase in CQL fanmeets and beyond — so it’s not impossible for him to understand. and remember that TTXS episode? he said that phrase too. lol.

for all the insinuation ( from haters ) that he doesn’t appreciate cpfs or even his time during cql, this smile says different. no words are needed. and that’s what yibo is as a person, he is more about actions.

3. IQIYI deleted this part in the playback of the live. LOL. they are saying it has to be removed because the line is from CQL, trademarked by Tencent. but i have a different take. they don’t wanna anger some people — a lot of them, watching the show. they don’t want a cotti coffee incident. it’s fine. i’m not gonna argue with toddlers who frequently have tantrums. i’m gonna be the adult here and let it be. 😌😌😌

i hope this doesn’t go on HS. i would rather this one below stay up, just to avoid drama.

we know the truth, we always did. thankful for this very sweet candy from our captain today and will continue to support WoF. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

并肩于雪山之巅 // stand side by side on top of the snowy mountain // BJYXSZD ❤️💛💚

[yanderederee]

hi hii, just saw your new event and- wow✨

wanted to ask if i may join in with ran and rindou :3

Thank you so so much for participating and requesting for this event lovelies!!♡ (sorry if my inbox status is hard to read;-;) ! I really hope you enjoy my headcanons!!♡

yandere mbti event page : here!

Ran Haitani - CAML

Cruel:Aware:Manipulative:Lenient

Ran can sometimes teeter between being reverent and Cruel, but more times than not, I believe Ran is often harsh.

Loves to praise his darling and spoil them rotten, but Ran is sadistic, his heart just pounds watching his dalring cry♡

Not cruel like Hanma; Ran is Cruel in the way that he likes when things make you mad or teasing you too far. He tries not to be the reviving end of your wrath for sake of wanting to be on your good side… but it does turn him on a little.

You’re just so cute when you scream at him for flipping your skirt up to “check what his lucky color for the day is”. (Any other oho asa horoscope followers?)

Always makes up with you for his cruel deeds by doing more kind acts. Again, he teeters reverent in the way he praises everything about you, has your back in every decision you make and fulfills your every wish no matter who what’s at stake.

Ran’s hyper-aware of little changes that go on behind your expressions. Ran can read you like a preschool book. There’s no point in hiding anything from him; because he will point out your lies and force you into telling him everything anyway.

Also isn’t one who likes to falsify who you are, or how you feel about him. He’s quite charismatic anyway, so as long as long as he’s careful, he doesn’t need to worry too much. He’s confident in being able to make you fall in love with him with personality and looks alone.

Ran has never considered his actions as wrong. Or, he does, but doesn’t care. He hurts people everyday for any minor fault he deems worthy.

So when he reasons that he will do anything to protect you? Hurting, killing, dismembering, or mutilating—nothing is beyond unreasonable, for your sake.

Ran is manipulative as hell.

To circle back, Ran would rather stay on your good side, if possible. He’s not beyond being honest with you about his delinquencies, but Ran likes lying about the truth.

Ran likes to lie and tease you. “You saw someone outside your window last night? It was probably just a shadow playing a trick on you~.” It Definitely wasn’t him. “You’re so cute when you’re delirious~ maybe I should come over and watch you sleep, just in case… fufu, I’m kidding doll.”

Similarly to how he wants to be on your good side, Ran will be choosingly Lenient with you.

Loves the idea of you ribboned and cuffed to his room with only a cute piece of lingerie on at all times—- but he decides that can wait for worse case scenario. He’d rather you live youthful and fully, experiencing days challenges with him by your side.

* If you start getting too close to realizing his obsessive craze for you, he gets pretty harsh with his gaslighting. So what if you caught some guy with braids in an ally beating your coworker to death after your shift? You couldn’t prove it was him, because it wasn’t him. You understand how mean it is to blame someone for murder right? So stop looking at him like he was some damn ghost.

* But if the cat’s out of the bag, it’s out. If he ever becomes discovered, I can see him changing into CAHS personality type. Forced to become honest, and restricting you into become more akin to a pet than a person. He would like to delay this change as far as he can, but that’s entirely dependent on you.

Rindou Haitani - RAHS

Reverent:Aware:Honest:Strict

Rindou HATES being mean to his darling!! When Rindou falls in love, his whole heart is in it. When you make an appearance in his life and inevitably change his way of thinking, Rindou is absorbed with being loved by you.

Similar to Baji in the way his Reverence is less like worshipping and more like protecting. Rindou thinks you’re perfect; that you can do no wrong, and redeemable in all things, including hurting him.

Rindou may have a few daydream-delusions of his darling falling for him like a princess would to her knight in shining armor, wishing you would look at him like he hung the stars, and crave him the same way he craves you.

But he acknowledges reality, and realizes he has to be genuinely careful in approaching you in order for that to happen. Rindou is perceptive and aware of your genuine emotions and thoughts of him.

With a reputation like his, he knows you might have some concerns with being around him. So, he actively makes an effort in showing you who he is.

Rindou likes being genuine with you. As his darling, he feels you may be able to truly understand him, if you’re given the chance…

So, Rindou finds being manipulative rather difficult. He’ll honestly own up to his poor behaviors, and ask for your forgiveness. Now, this can obviously depend on the behavior in question, but Rindou is careful enough to hold himself back while in your company, or with what behaviors reach your ears.

Also likes to keep the image you see of him in a positive light. He might not be perfect, but he was real with you and made you feel genuinely safe.

Now.. hear me out. Rindou is most Strict than he likes to believe. He’s not overbearing like locking you up and keeping you to himself.

But he does gift you cute pieces of jewelry often. They’re always so cute, you end up always wearing at least one or multiple of the Tracking Device imbedded accessories.

He knows your every move. Your every calorie intake. Your every breath is being recorded. It’s all for your safety, of course.

Is very particular with who you spend your time with or who you speak to. Is the type to secretly beat the shit out of Anyone he doesn’t recognize who talks to you too long, takes up too much of your time, or acts remotely unpleasant towards you.

Rindou is less thrilled by the idea of locking you away, if only because he knows the action will make you dislike him. And all Rindou ever wants is to feel loved by you…

[ddejavvu]

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.” 

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone. 

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

--

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes. 

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears. 

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,�� Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip. 

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped. 

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock. 

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence. 

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

--

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

Alastor X Reader

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[genshin-scenarios]

a familiar pull - fontaine

Summary: General scenarios with Fontaine characters, very loosely based on the trailers!

Characters: Lyney, Navia, Neuvillette, Furina

Lyney

A long time ago, on streets you no longer bear memory of, you met a magician who not only stole your heart, but planted flowers in place of them.

That is to say; during a rather heavy period in your life, you encountered someone who offered you the comfort of a quiet smile and courteous sleight of hand (to turn 1 coin into 2, then 3, then just enough to treat a lost soul to a drink in the evening, if you cared to join him. And with a demeanor as charming as that, how could you turn him away?) 

You asked Lyney what other tricks he knew, to which he simply pointed to the sky and said that if you smiled at the same time the constellations twinkled, your heart would feel lighter.

“And if I become so light as to float toward the stars?” 

“Well… I’d have to make my own stars, then. Perhaps even ones you can catch yourself, if you’d like to join me onstage.”

Navia

To catch a stray umbrella that’s escaped its owner is not part of your regular afternoon, however a part of you welcomes the incident due to how it acquainted you with Navia, who was quick to thank you for the trouble and invite you out as an apology.

If Fontaine’s lifestyle weighed on the beauty of a show, you could say that Navia shined so brightly on her own that there was no need to put on additional fronts to satisfy this. From her lively actions to the honest furrow in her brow, you might compare her to sunlight - paving a way for clarity and cheer, with warmth in her voice as she spoke your name.

“Say, if you managed to catch my umbrella so easily, could it be that you…”

“I don’t have a habit of climbing buildings, unfortunately.”

“Aww, I was just going to ask you to spot for me next time!”

Neuvillette

Between the administrative work he has and the performances he oversees at court, it’s safe to say that Neuvillette is just relieved to have a bit of simplicity when it comes to you in his everyday life.

There’s no question about the bias he has for you. His affection isn’t falsely given either - how can it be, when Neuvillette returns to see you’ve fallen asleep at the guest seat in his office, waiting for him to head home together after a long day?

When the theatrics of the court finally settle into calm waters, Neuvillette just hopes it means a more regular life for the both of you. Ignoring the times you tease him for being sappy, you’ve always looked at him with a gentleness that hopes he can get more rest. He doesn’t know how to tell you that his ideal scenario includes you as well, having a moment to wind down together with tea and your favorite snacks.

Furina

Needless to say, you were a little more than stressed when Furina announced that she’d like you as her aide.

You were less boring than other people, and fun to drag around and talk to. A part of her was simply flamboyant in nature, but Furina also grew a habit of glancing at your reactions to see if she’s impressed you sometimes.

After a while, you come to realize that there was something lonely about the archon - it’s in the moments where instead of talking your ear off or asking you to join her for another show, she grows silent and simply watches the city around her, like rain on a windowpane, drumming her fingers lightly against her crossed arm.

And just as quickly as the moment settles, it’s gone; replaced by Furina pulling you away by the elbow, impatient for your attention as she pursues the next idea that’s entered her mind.

Maybe, in the same way there are reflective pairs in how hydro works, the both of you find a sense of comfort in your similarities that do not show on the surface, until a ripple disturbs it.

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer (Part Three) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part two | part four | bonus chapter

wc: 4.3k

a/n: here is the well awaited pt 3, I didn’t know it could get more angst-y than it already has but boy I was wrong. the next part will be the final part to the series, prepare for sh!t to go down y’allll 😗

contains: soft + angsty neteyam, lots of emotions so buckle up fr, some language (not much at all), familial conflict

“~~” resembles a time skip or a POV change

Neteyam rarely got angry. But after witnessing Eyiti purposely say what she did to hurt your feelings, he felt anger bubble deep in the pit of his stomach. He so badly wanted to chase after you as he watched you walk away, but he couldn’t risk having her run to tell her parents that the olo’eyktan’s son had disrespected her. This was what he faced on the daily, people holding his future over his head with no regard of how high he had to jump just to get it back. He was trying his hardest to keep his parents in a good mood, so when he would tell them about you they would be less inclined to deny his pleas and actually hear him out. If he went after you, it would squash all of his hopes of ever being yours. He whipped his head around to face the unapologetic girl in front of him, not being able to conceal his repugnance.

“Why did you do that?” He spoke through gritted teeth, jerking his arm away to remove her grimy mitt from his skin. “I did not promise you anything. My parents do not speak for me.” He brushed his arm, trying to expunge the feeling of her touch.

“Oh, but I think they do ‘Teyam.” She cooed with a pout that was far from genuine to shield the smug that lied behind her lips. “They said you’d talk to my parents, so that’s what you’re going to do. Unless, you want me to go and tell my father about your little girlfriend. And now that I think about it, I don’t even think I heard your parents mention her. Is that allowed?” She already knew the answer, her question was only a threat.

Everything began to add up in his mind. Why her behavior would change so suddenly- trying her hardest to gain his attention conveniently at the time you would come around. He had never once felt the urge to injure a woman, and he still didn’t, but he was definitely tempted to tag Kiri in on this conversation and support whatever method of action she chose to take.

He wished he could have told you in that moment that being her date was never his idea. But he was just as stunned, it hadn’t even been brought up to him before Eyiti revealed the information in front of the two of you. There his parents went again, making decisions for him knowing he would have no choice but to follow through. His heart felt like it had been stomped on, even more so at the thought of how badly you were hurting right now. He had no intention of leading you on, and you probably hated him for doing just that, even if it were accidental. In fact, he planned on agreeing to the Ikran ride, taking the two of you somewhere you wouldn’t be disturbed and asking you to be his date to the festival. But everything went to shit, like usual.

He exhaled sharply, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything that would have this brat running to make his life more of a living hell than it was already becoming. He dodged Eyiti’s attempt at grabbing his hand to lead him along, shooting her a piercing glare. If looks could kill, the village would be planning her funeral right about now. “I can walk just fine on my own. And stop calling me that.”

He entered her family’s home with as much respect as he could muster, grudgingly taking a seat once realizing his parents had already arrived. There was nothing he could do to stall this any longer. He kept his stare avoidant, anything to distract him from the conversation at hand. There was a drastic amount of space between him and Eyiti on the mat, which Jake had not failed to realize. The voices around him sounded like they were underwater as he tuned them out. He toyed with the intricate details on his armband while they spoke, all he could think about was how this was the last place he wanted to be. His mind was anywhere else but here. The image of you talking with Ta’olu reappeared in his mind like clockwork, regardless of how many times he tried to erase it.

“Neteyam?” Neytiri’s voice repeated for the third time, sending him a warning glance once noticing he was out of it before she proceeded. “Do you agree with the date chosen for your ceremony?”

No, absolutely not. He didn’t agree with the date chosen, he didn’t even agree with the woman chosen.

Eyiti never paid him mind years ago until the day she found out what he would grow up to be. She looked at him like a piece of meat and he knew it. Not that he ever craved her attention; when she would speak he would simply imagine she was someone else. You were the only girl in the clan who saw him for who he truly was. Just a man wanting to fall in love like everybody else. Was that so bad?

Neteyam abruptly rose up from where he sat and cleared his throat, effectively cutting the conversation short with an unexpected answer. “I am sorry, I refuse to mate with Eyiti. I will only accompany her to the festival, as that has been promised by my parents. But no one other than me will have a say in who will have my heart.”

The mouths of everyone in the room fell to the floor but Neteyam stood strong on his declaration, excusing himself from the conversation and walking out of the tent- leaving Eyiti as stunned and embarrassed as she had made you feel earlier. Jake and Neytiri immediately rose to go after him, apologizing for his change of behavior as much as they could while her parents consoled their daughter who was now sobbing dramatically.

He didn’t want to accompany her to the festival at all, but declining her as a mate, and forcing his parents to meet someone new all in one day was probably not the best idea. His plan was to show up with Eyiti, then ditch her in roughly ten minutes after her parents saw them together, slip out unnoticed and find you. He’d have to get Tuk in on the plan to serve as a distraction, which shouldn’t be too difficult for him. Neteyam was a stickler for being a gentleman, but he couldn’t care less about that witch’s feelings.

His legs were sent into a slight run-walk as Jake forced him into their family home by the back of his neck. He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair before turning around to face his father who was nearly red in the face, already knowing what was next to come.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how much you’ve embarrassed us? Our entire family? In front of the parents of the woman who is supposed to be your mate?” He yelled a string of questions, his finger pointed out of their tent to clarify exactly what he was referring to. His eldest son stood unamused. Silent and withdrawn. His physical body was here, but his mental was somewhere unknown. His head was turned to the side, his face not even so much as flinching at his father’s words. He simply laughed to himself, dropping his head towards the floor and mumbling incomprehensible sentences to himself.

“And what are you laughing at? Which part of this is funny to you?” Neytiri chimed in, looking at him with such disbelief it would have hurt his feelings, had he found the will to care. There was no more approval he strived to seek from his parents.

“Answer your mother when she’s speaking to you, boy.” Jake growled, Neteyam’s ears perking up.

“I am not a boy.” His eyes shot up, challenging his father with zero hesitation in his tone. Neteyam had it to his wits end with his parents trying to control every aspect of his life. Elder or not, he was no longer going to let them have a say in who he chose to love or how he chose to live his life. “You heard what I said.” His accent was apparent.  “I will not mate with that woman. And I will not apologize for loving another, my heart belongs to [Y/n].” He stated strongly, lifting his chin to indicate confidence in his decision.

Neytiri blinked in astonishment, her voice sputtering while she tried to find a way to continue the conversation with words instead of knocking him over his head. “And what makes you think we will allow you to mate with someone we do not know? Someone we have not deemed fit for you? This girl will be Tsahik, Neteyam!” She hissed.

This. This was the issue. His parents were so concerned about status in the clan that they let it overshadow their own son’s right to happiness.

“I have tried so many times to tell you! She is special, I swear it. You guys won’t listen to me.” He extended his hands to the pair in a pleading motion, his voice growing louder with each word he spoke and a slight crack in his pitch giving away how much this was all starting to affect him. “Dad wasn’t even one of the people when the two of you mated, it went against everything the clan knows. You cannot judge me. And I couldn’t care less about this stupid title. You can give it to Lo’ak, for all I care.” He spat, leaving them right where they stood and storming out of their home.

He was right, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Jake wasn’t a real na’vi when he first arrived, he was an avatar driver with an aborted mission. Neytiri was promised to another, but went against her parents and mated with him anyway. They both went against the rules because their love for each other was so strong, just as he was now. How could his own parents blame him for wanting to find true love just as they did?

“Neteyam!” Neytiri gasped, both her hands coming up to cover her mouth and tears forming in her eyes.

Jake immediately turned to comfort her, pulling her into a firm hug and rubbing her back. “He doesn’t mean that, I know he doesn’t. He’s just upset, I’ll talk to him.” He held her as she cried into his chest, wanting to go after Neteyam but knowing he couldn’t leave his wife alone after what had transpired.

By the time Jake had soothed Neytiri and ran out after his son, he had already set out into the air on his Ikran without another word spoken.

Neteyam soared through the purple-tinted sky aimlessly, allowing the bond with the animal to reach deep into his heart and figure out where to take him. He winced at the thought of how he had addressed his mother, the look on her face after what he said. He was fed up and couldn’t stand to argue any longer, his voice was not being heard no matter how loud he spoke and it had pushed him well over the edge. By the time he realized what he was saying, it was too late to take it back and the damage had already been done. He felt the innate urge to turn around, to run to his mother and apologize. But he was tired of doing the right thing all the time. For once in his life he just wanted to be able to make a mistake like everybody else could without it seeming like the end of the world.

His father’s voice calling his name could be heard through the speaker connected to the neckpiece they all wore for communication. He curled his lips in annoyance, hooked two fingers under the band and snapped it off his neck with ease. He pitched it into the air without another thought, letting it fall to the ground below him. He had no idea where it landed and he couldn’t care less. He didn’t want to be bothered anymore.

He allowed the wind to flow through his braids, the cold, crisp air hitting his cheek and helping in keeping him grounded. After what felt like a short journey, his Ikran slowed and prepared to land in the open field by the Tree of Voices- a place for prayers to be heard. He eyed the giant willow tree, ignoring the heavy weight in his chest. He dismounted from the bird, gently pulling his braid to break tsaheylu and smoothing a hand up its rough back, followed by a tender pat to calm its spirit. He hadn’t been here since his parents brought him to visit the ancestors, when he was younger. There had been nothing he wanted enough to call upon Eywa for, and his duties rendered him far more busy than he had expected, which left almost no time for a casual visit.

He trailed a hand along the delicate, elongated tendrils of the tree as he walked- taking a brief looking around to make sure he was alone before he slowly lowered himself to the ground. He reached over his shoulder to pull the long braid from behind his back, taking hold of one of the tree’s branches in his other hand. He watched closely as his queue reached for the branch, wrapping itself around and making the connection that would allow Eywa to hear his pleas. He could feel the intense spiritual energy coarse through his veins, allowing him to let his guard down.

His head lowered and his eyes came to a close. He had so much to say but didn’t know how to phrase it, didn’t know how to start. Neteyam was not familiar in asking for things, let alone help. He was always made to do everything himself, made to figure it out on his own like a true leader. Every moment in his life boiled down to preparation for what was yet to come, so much that he didn’t even know how to handle the emotions that would arise in the present. He was constantly running, motivation carrying him forward. But now he questioned the purpose of the race entirely. Had he ever stopped to ask himself if this was what he wanted?

“Eywa, I have come to you to ask for help, if you’ll have me.” He started, his voice merely a whisper as he continued. “I don’t know what to do.”

Going against his parents was ultimately going against everything he knew. It felt wrong. Forbidden. But giving up on his feelings for you felt even worse. At this point he didn’t care what would happen, he’d bare with having his potential title stripped from him if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with you by his side.

His eyes shut tightly in attempt to stop the tears he dreaded welcoming. His throat burned and a lump began to form that felt nearly impossible to swallow. He didn’t want to cry, not after he had tried so hard not to. He hadn’t in years, and he knew if he allowed himself to break down in this moment it would only lead to bringing up every other emotion he had succeeded in bottling up for so long.

Neteyam’s shoulders began to shudder and he shook his head in resistance at the shiver that struck through his body, but ultimately failed at putting up a fight. A sob finally erupted from his trembling lips and he brought his free hand up to shield his face, as if he were afraid someone would see him in such a vulnerable state. He sat in the bioluminescent flora around him, simply allowing himself to cry, something he hadn’t been able to do in years. The pressure of being the perfect son had finally gotten to him. He was aware from time that it was slowly creeping up, taking an immense toll on his mental health and he tried his best to outrun it. A slight miscalculation on his end, you can never outrun the inevitable. He had never expected it to break him down in such a way, his body physically feeling weak and hopeless. He was completely conflicted, knowing it was always best to follow his heart but it went against his coding to disappoint his parents.

He felt the presence of Eywa and his ancestors calm him, the pace of his breathing gradually returned to normal and the beating of his heart followed soon after. He wiped his face dry with the backside of his hand, regaining his composure while gathering the will to carry on with his prayer. “I have never asked anything of you until now, because nothing has ever meant more to me than this. Until I met her, I hadn’t known the true meaning of happiness, what it felt like to be alive. And now, we’ve found our way back into each other’s lives and I cannot let her go. Not again.” He felt an ache deep in his chest, fearful that even saying these words out loud would turn them into reality.

“I fear that I have disappointed my parents greatly. I said some things I am not proud of, and I am not sure if I can take back the damage they have caused.” He sighed, his eyes opening and his head raising to peer at the sky above him. “I know she is special. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it, deep in my bones.” With his hand placed over his chest, it balled into a fist against his skin and he begged with everything he had left in him.

“Please, allow them to see her the way I do.”

~~~

Had it not been for your mother that day, you don’t know what you would’ve done. The walk back to your tent was unforgiving as you tried to hide the tears that were forming once more, not out of sorrow, but of pure disgust. The speed in which you declined Ta’olu’s invitation was utterly comical. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider it for a second, but all the faith you had in his proposal died as soon as you found out he was only inviting you to make the same girl he ditched you for in the past, jealous. You wished you hadn’t even stopped to give him the time of day because the whole encounter only made you feel worse.

You pushed through the fabric that served as a doorway to your home and crossed the distance that separated you from your mother, sinking to your knees and tears flowing from your eyes when she wrapped her arms around you without question. “I’m too late, Mama.” You hiccuped. Your tears felt like acid on your cheeks and it hurt to even speak. You hated crying, especially over something like this. The entire process of being upset, realizing your emotions, then having to find an outlet to rid them- revolted you.

“What happened?” Your mother looked down at you, her eyebrows furrowed with concern and a hint of apprehension. Her head moved to the side with an understanding sigh when your crying picked up at the nature of her question, resting her cheek against the top of your head and stroking your hair. She quietly shushed you, rubbing your back to aid in comfort. Your fervent emotions shrouded your will to elaborate.

You sniffled, inhaling a pathetically shaky breath and forcing your voice to come together and make words after a bit. “I’m too late. He’s found someone else.” Saying it out loud to her made it all the more real. You couldn’t stop your heart from clenching when you admitted the truth to her. In all your years of loving him, your mother had never had you come to her with anything he had done that wasn’t positive.

She slowly pulled away from your embrace, but only to look into your eyes as you spoke. She needed to make sure for herself that she was hearing this correctly. “No… How? The two of you were just together only two days ago.” She sounded as dumbfounded as you felt.

“Eyiti,” You shook your head, wiping the tears that had fallen without your permission off your face with the heel of your hand, annoyed at the fact that more appeared no matter how hard you tried to settle yourself. “She’s his date to the festival tomorrow. He’s probably talking to her parents about it right now.” Your voice got quieter, your shoulders slumping down as you sulked and studied the palms of your hands- staring at the lines etched into your skin as a getaway from your feelings.

Your eyes shot up when you heard your mother breath out a sigh, it almost sounded like she was *relieved*. She quickly geared up to explain once the expression on your face became one of slight betrayal and confusion.

She shook her head and laughed quietly, “There is still time, [Y/n]. Her being his date does not mean they are promised to one another. But it very well could, if you do not take your chance tomorrow.” She used her thumbs to clean the tears that had rolled down the side of your face, cupping it in her hands afterwards. “Did you bring what is needed?” Her eyes were soft and seeing her calm expression somehow helped you in doing the same.

“Yes, I…” You blinked to clear your vision, opening your mouth to speak but settling for a nod of your head. The small bag was brought around to your front, holding it open so she could see inside.

A grin from her was all that was required to strike you with the ambition you didn’t know you had left.

Your fingers were sore to the touch and swollen after hours of carving the marbles and stones you had found into small beads. The process was intricate and painstaking. It required delicate hands and utmost patience. Had you tried to speed up the process you were at risk of cracking the material directly in half, rendering it useless. And after doing just that almost three times while trying to rush through, you had absolutely no more room for error.

You used a thin twine to weave the beads together, crocheting intricate rows of stitches between the material to hold it together, making a clasp that would be easy for him to take on and off on his own. Your mom had taught you how to make jewelry and garments years ago, you eventually surpassed her in skill. You hadn’t the desire or need to make something for a while, but the talent you possessed remained. You constructed his gift with unbelievable precision, your eyes strained from barely taking time to blink. But you were still incredibly nervous that it wouldn’t be to his liking.

Unknown to you, Neteyam loved everything you did, even if it was as simple as breathing.

You couldn’t thank your mom enough for helping you with this. She had given you a deadpan look the tenth time you expressed gratitude, so you figured ten was a good number to settle on. You felt silly even asking, so you were more than appreciative that she had offered. At first, it was hard for you to understand why she had been so supportive. Then she explained to you that when she were head over heels for your father, she had no one to lean on but herself, not even her own mother. She was more than willing to help her daughter win over the one she loved, because all she wanted was to see you happy.

Eclipse had long passed, the sun tucking itself away after a job well done and the moon announcing its arrival with how the night now encapsulated the village. The necklace was finally complete. One could tell how much effort went into it just by looking at it, it was beautiful. The beads were varying shades of brown, orange, and red- Neteyam’s favorite colors to wear. You honestly had no idea why you decided on still making it, without even knowing how this whole thing would play out at that. There was a small part of you that feared it would go to waste after what you witnessed earlier, but there was an even bigger part of you that since rediscovered the hope you previously lost.

How dark it had become outside skated past you without notice until you finally looked up from the spot your eyes were locked on since this afternoon. The both of you had even skipped dinner just to make sure you finished in time for tomorrow.

“How are you even still sitting like this?” You collapsed backwards with a exhale of great fatigue, your eyes fluttering closed against your will and your back crying out in relief. You knew hunching over in the same exact spot would hurt, but you had no idea you’d come out of it feeling a hundred years older than you already were. “Do you think he will like it?” You mumbled, sleepiness hurriedly overtaking you.

By the time your mother turned to respond, an array of faint snores could be heard. Had you not been so exhausted, you would’ve awoken at the sound of her laughing due to your mouth hanging open obnoxiously. She smiled at you with nothing but endearment, gingerly lifting your head to slip a cushion under it and draping a light blanket over your body that was now curled into a fetal position- a mindless endeavor to seek warmth. She leaned down to kiss your temple, pushing a few braids from your face so they wouldn’t disrupt you. “He will love it.” She whispered.

a/n: y’all knew i wasn’t gonna make her accept Ta’olu’s invitation that’s toooo cliche for my liking 😭 also you literally have the best mom she’s so sweet

This chapter was so emotional to write omg! but can we talk ab the fact that Neteyam finally stood up to his parents about you, need a him in my life fr 💔

Please like + reblog if you can, it’s much appreciated! 💞

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