#the idea of her defending him has never left my head

[guidaozongshi]

Why Sasuke-Naruto and not Sasuke-Sakura?

A great deal has been written about the latter's relationship—or the lack thereof—being atrocious due to its glaringly one-sided nature. However, in this post, I tell why I was personally drawn to the former when I first read Naruto and why the latter felt so out of sync with my perspective.

I discovered Naruto—and by extension, sasunaru—during my formative years in late adolescence, and it left a lasting impression on me. Before Naruto, my exposure to anime was quite limited, restricted to shows that aired on TV in my country, such as Pokémon, Dragon Ball, and Beyblade. However, when I gained access to the internet, albeit with limited capacity but unrestricted freedom, I began exploring more anime. I started with Fullmetal Alchemist, as it was highly recommended and relatively short, and then moved on to Shoujo like Kaichou wa Maid-sama, Fruits Basket and Kamisama Kiss. Despite this, I had never properly delved into a long-running shounen series. Naruto, being ubiquitous, naturally caught my attention.

Even before I started reading it I had come across jokes on Facebook anime meme pages about Naruto and Sasuke being gay, but I didn’t take them seriously. When I finally began reading Naruto (it was still ongoing at the time, nearing its final volumes), I was immediately drawn to the character dynamics and the emotionally driven story. What stood out to my romance-induced mind was how Sasuke seemed to fit the role of Naruto’s love interest from the very beginning. Despite Naruto's behaviour towards him, Sasuke defended him from Sakura, risked his own career to feed him when he was hungry. It seemed as if he held affection for him even before they officially became a team (little did I know that Kishimoto would later confirm this) . Unconsciously, I began shipping them, even though I had no prior understanding of shipping or exposure to media featuring same-sex couples.

And then came the Land of Waves arc—the rest, as they say, is history.

On the other hand, even though I was accustomed to heterosexual romances, Sasuke and Sakura’s relationship felt completely out of left field idea to me. This wasn’t just because of how one-sided it was, but also because Sasuke never went out of his way for Sakura in the same way he consistently did for Naruto.

A few months ago, I stumbled upon this on Reddit, and boy, did it almost hit the nail on the head on what I felt when I first started reading Naruto.

Although they incorrectly attribute Naruto and Sasuke's intense relationship to typical Shounen writing , nothing could be further from the truth.

I have heard people say that Sasuke-Sakura are a Shoujo couple stuck in a Shounen. I have to laugh.

I will reiterate what I said in this post

Sasu/Saku's popularity stems from the fact that the dynamic between Sasuke and Sakura at first resembles the typical setup of many shoujo romances from that era. They could have been that shoujo couple, but Kishimoto chose to subvert the tropes usually associated with such relationships.

An average girl, lacking any special talents and often clueless, relentlessly and one-sidedly pursues the school heartthrob. He has an icy demeanor and consistently rejects and insults her. However, due to her persistence and the time they spend together, he gradually begins to show affection for her and eventually loves her.

This would be the plot for many Shoujo mangas. Most famously, Itazura na Kiss, released in 1990, is a quintessential example of this, it has inspired many others and has had countless adaptations.

To quote one of the series' reviewer:

" This anime is about Kotoko, a ditzy, klutzy, dimwitted, high school girl, and her one-sided pursuit of her school's super-perfect heart throb, Irie. The central conflict revolves around Kotoko's struggle to get Irie's attention and to get past his incredibly cold personality. You see, Irie, in addition to being good at everything he does, is a complete douchebag and sees Kotoko as nothing more than an annoying flea. "

Sounds familiar?

However, in the case of classic Shoujo , the guy begins to start reciprocating her feelings. Her persistence is rewarded.

This is why many Sasu/Saku stans are unfazed by Sasuke's callous (justified) behaviour and Sakura's shallow feelings. Because they think Kishimoto is following the tropes straightforwardly.

Sasuke is not that male lead. Unlike characters who may be affected by the continuous efforts of the girl, Sasuke is deeply focused on his own life and personal challenges. He has little room to entertain Sakura's infatuation. As a result, he finds Sakura's persistent feelings and declarations completely unremarkable, as they do not resonate with him in the slightest. Sakura's sheltered upbringing and worldview fail to intrigue him, as he is seeking something much deeper and more meaningful than what she represents.

What ties all this together is that the manga explicitly states that Sakura can never hold the same importance to Sasuke as Naruto does.

" I can't get close to you " " Or exchange blows with you"

It’s quite clear who she is referencing: the person who can and does. Something Sasuke confirms verbally anyways.

Anyways, the romantic tropes lie between Sasuke and Naruto, not Sasuke and Sakura.

[fyxestroll]

Vereinsamt

pairing: fulgrim x reader (fem.)

description: a question, a corundum and the warmth of blood in his hands

warnings: descriptions of blood.

<<prev

notes: i cut this sequel in half teehee @yagodnyizefir. (chat, should i make a taglist?)

How far would you go for love?

It’s a question commonly asked in Vinabonan literature. Be it a tragedy or a romance against all odds countless literature encourage its readers to ponder the extremes they would go to.

When you’d ask Fulgrim the same question he simply answered…

“I’m not sure.”

Because what is love? 

Is it the trust built over a lifetime? Two strangers finding companionship through the years? The pleasures of the flesh? An innate bond between a parent and child? The camaraderie between brothers? He’s experienced all of those, felt all the warmth and bitterness that they entailed. 

Love is too simple of a word to carry its vast meaning.

You had asked that question in jest seeking no answer but the befuddled look on his face but it had left him wondering.

What would I do?

Well, the answer came to him three days ago when the Emperor’s Pride exited the warp just outside of the star system. The vox messages from the system that had come flooding in were promptly received, read and sorted; articles in the noosphere were similarly handled as routine.

But one stood out in particular.

Expect the Unexpected! Lady Ditterstorf Pregnant!

Did he feel shock? Horror? Betrayal? A mix of all three? Yes.

But did it matter? Not at the moment, not when Vinabonan high society would eat you alive.

Despite the planet’s focus on sophistication and progress its ruling class are no different from a flock of starving vultures. He’s witnessed it himself, the endless cycle of rumors and scandals, how it led to metaphorical and physical deaths.

You, unmarried and carrying a child with an unknown father would become another victim.

That cannot happen, not if he could do anything about it.

Fulgrim’s plan was simple, he would claim to be the child’s father. If the child didn’t inherit your looks—because it would damn well not look like him, then he’d simply blame it on genetics. Have they looked at his brothers? Their faces are as varied as the cultures in the Imperium!

It would be his—a son of the Emperor’s word against theirs. There would be no refute.

Then after all is said and done, he could convince you to leave Vinabona, though, you’d likely refuse.

Either way, he expects a confrontation, hurtful words thrown and bridges burnt. Your relationship would never be the same after this no matter the result. You’d join the countless faces he’s come to forget, their warmth lingering but never remaining.

You aren’t his, he reminds himself as your homeworld’s spherical form got closer and closer. 

You aren’t his.

That kiss wasn’t was a mistake.

You’ll never be his and maybe, that’s for the better.

Does he mean all of this? Yes. 

No.

Once his transport reaches the planet’s surface your friendship, your bond will die. He expects your hatred, your hurt, for every moment spent together to be burnt into nothing but bitterness.

But then, your head housekeeper came to him mere moments after his feet touched the ground and every plan, every idea, every run-through of a conversation with you crumbled into dust.

“Lord Fulgrim! I beg for your assistance! My lady has entered a duel to defend her honor!”

The elderly servant’s words ring in his ears as he walks through the circle of whispering onlookers. The crowd gives him a wide berth, some falling to their knees in shock at his presence. He neither acknowledges nor shows concern, his eyes trained on the two bodies lying on the ground ten paces away from each other. 

Blood oozes from both.

He had imagined your hurt, your tears, the fury he had yet seen but not this…No, never this.

In a blink, he’s gathered you in his arms, frantically trying to find the source of the wound. Too many layers and too much silk are in his way so he can do nothing but put pressure roughly where the wound is located.

Blood oozes out from the wound like water.

He screams for help, for anyone to help.

The crowd remains in place, murmuring, some daring to take a pict.

Ten paces across your opponent shrieks, blood pulling from the wound in between his legs. His second runs to him, lifting him as he screamed in pain, cursing your name. On the man’s chest is the crest of the planetary governor’s house. 

How far would you go for love?

You’re gasping for air, weakly trying to push against his hold with empty dilated eyes. 

You looked like a corpse.

He cries out your name, shaking you as he does. He knows some of his Phoenix Guard will follow suit with a doctor. He has enough faith in his sons to know they will do so.

But for the moment he could do nothing but pathetically beg the onlookers for help.

Not a single person makes a move to assist, instead all of them look on as if this scene is pure entertainment.

He spots the pistol near your side, it too is also stained with blood.

“How far would you go for love?” Your voice as sweet as honey echoes in his ears. 

As he holds your dying body in his arms and faces a crowd of animals he answers that lingering inquiry with a question of his own.

How far should I go?

[lastborne]

💥 Try to calm my muse during an overwhelming emotional moment

@wrlckd sent Nonverbal RP Starters | Accepting

"Hey hey, no. Syl. Sylvn."

The fact she used his full name was attention grabbing enough despite how her hands reached up to cup his face, making sure to be able to lock eyes with him and knowing that they were both stressed with the meeting that was to be starting soon.

She had heard the whispers about wanting to replace her guard, that he was too dangerous despite that the only marks on her body was from the muzzle that had sliced into her face to prevent her from casting spells, the healing resistant cut still raw and looked like it was about to start bleeding again which made her think there was some kind of poison or curse on the metal.

"You're not going to be sent away. I won't let them."

Her tail lashed, showing her anger even when her words were soft. After all, she wasn't angry at him. How could they think it was a good idea when he got her out, got her to safety.

"I'm so so sorry for taking that choice from you, but you didn't hurt me." Her pinky tapped against his neck but steering clear of the collar, not wanting risk making things worse.

"And if I have to stomp my foot at act like the spoiled noble, then I will. You're worth fighting for."

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[lovelivision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[luveline]

I would love to see Derek with a super confident sunshine gf but May be she gets super shy and flustered when he compliments her or makes a dirty joke and just like the first time it happens and Derek is so taken aback by her shyness bc he's used to her being chatty and confident

“Hi, Dr. Reid.” 

Derek knows it’s gonna be a good day when you come in already flirting. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. “Want a bagel?” 

“Thanks, handsome, but I already had breakfast.” Derek leans back in his chair to watch you, and you see his moving, turning your attention to him with an equally brilliant smile. “Hi, Agent Morgan.” 

“You can call me Derek, baby.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you say lightly. You pull your pea coat tighter against yourself and give a breath. “Is it cold in here today, or is it just me?” 

“There’s a problem with the radiators,” Spencer says. “They sent out an email this morning to dress warmly. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow, apparently.” 

“Oh. I didn’t see. I don’t think I’m dressed for the cold,” you say, looking down at your short heels. “I would’ve worn sneakers like you, Spence.” 

“I brought some extra socks?” Spencer says. 

“Well, keep me a pair in case I need them?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart, if it’s warming up you need, you come straight to me,” Derek says, his tone warm as his promise, “I’ll find a way to keep you comfortable, that’s on my life, don’t waste your time with anybody else.” 

He doesn’t mean it to sound so heavily sexual, but he absolutely did mean for it to be an innuendo. Regardless, he isn’t expecting this —you look straight to Spencer like you want to check he’s heard it, and you fluster hard, fisting the strap of your purse where it’s snug over your shoulder, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Okay,” you say shyly, nodding, looking at the space to the left of Derek’s shoulder. “Won’t waste my time.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve always been sweet like that, your sunny disposition drew him to you like a moth to a flame, and yet Derek can’t recall ever having made you fluster so quickly, and so visibly. 

Derek suspects he’d find neck hot under his hand with a flush if he touched it. laughs loudly, pen in his hands wagging up and down as he fights the urge to say anything else and prolong your agony.  

You give a soft laugh, flustered, embarrassed and breathless, tapping his ankle with your shoe. “That was a bit mean.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, sorry Spencer has to be here to see it, “I was kidding.” 

“I know!” You also give Spencer a sorry look.

Spencer, while sometimes slow to pick up subtle social cues, thankfully gets the idea and stands up from his chair. Derek follows suit, though he doesn’t scarper for the kitchen. 

“That caught me off guard,” you say, laughing again as he offers his arms to you. 

“What happened?” He tugs you forward. You tuck your arms behind his neck to kiss his jaw, the morning hello.

“You said it like you were bossing me around!” you defend yourself.

“And you liked that?” 

“Stop, stop,” you laugh. “I wasn’t expecting it. You never boss me around. You’re nicer than anybody gives you credit for.” 

“You think so?” he asks, still teasing, but also vaguely smug. To get to hug you in the office, arms on your waist, prettiest face ever made, Derek can’t help himself. “I really will keep you warm. I’ll get you a heater.” 

“You’re my heater.” 

“I’m hot-blooded.” 

You part ways with mutual reluctance. “You’re something, Derek.” 

He enjoys making you laugh, and the shy tilt of your head as you’d recovered, but he’s much happier when you’re bundled up at your desk with a hot cup of coffee and his promised space heater plugged in at your feet, chatting across the way to him about what you want to do this weekend if he doesn’t get called away. 

“Maybe we can buy a couple of DVD’s and you can warm me up all weekend,” you suggest, an attempt to pretend you aren’t bothered by his comment anymore, that it had been a momentary lapse in judgement. 

Derek’s content to give you anything you ask for. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Wild West Outlaw!'s Reaction to You Trying to Escape

Warnings: Slight Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Thoughts, Dominant Outlaw Confirmed, Kidnapping, Restraining/Binding, Binding Kink ( 👀), Punishment, Outlaw having Intrusive Thoughts, Forced Proximity (And They Were Roommates), No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

♡ He has you tied down to a chair so quickly you don’t even get the chance to feel the wind being knocked out of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw hasn’t survived this long by letting pretty little things like you turn the tables on him. And if his unwavering strength and endurance aren’t enough to confirm that, his knotting skills are.

♡ “Thought ya could pull the wool over my eyes, didn’tya,” the Outlaw drawls, pulling the rope tight over your wrists, panting, recovering from your frolic with freedom.

♡ He leans in, close enough that you can smell the rock-beaten freshness of his shirt, can feel the warmth of his anger radiating against your skin.

♡ “Suppose I’ll just have to discipline ya. Make ya nice and obedient.”

♡ Despite the low, husking tone of his voice, the quiet promise of promiscuity in his drawl, Outlaw’s rendition of punishment comes as… solitude.

♡ He leaves you tied to that chair for hours, riding off into the desert, leaving you with nothing to entertain you save for your thoughts and the wonderings of what he’d do to you when he returned.

♡ You might view this as a cold, calloused method of behavioural conditioning. Starving you, not letting you stretch your legs or go to the bathroom.

♡ Of course, the punishment is still horrific. But, rather unintentionally so.

♡ You see, in the moments between Outlaw’s two-minute tango between you, himself and his rope, something in his brain had switched. Snapped.

♡ Having you look up at him with wide eyes as you writhed beneath his touch, the burn of the rope, the pleas starting to fall from between your lips for him to let you go, stirred something in him. A primal frenzy. A dark need.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t think straight, his mind flooding with involuntary ideas, notions of what he could do with – to – you while you’re bound and at his mercy.

♡ He doesn’t know what happened; why having your body pressed so closely to him in such a thrashing, violent, desperate encounter has left him with a heavy burden in his heart and in…other places.

♡ He’s wrangled captives before and they’ve never had the same licentious effect as you did. Then again, he’s never kept a captive for this long, either. And certainly not willingly.

♡ Yandere Outlaw eventually returns, the thought of you helpless in that chair weighing heavy on his mind all day, taking him down avenues and annals of thought he’d only have the opportunity to explore under the cover of darkness.

♡ Of course, he was concerned that you must be hungry by now. Thirsty, too.

♡ That, and…

♡ How there’d be nothing to stop him from having his way with you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shakes his head, his horse letting out a puff, as if she could read his mind. Don’t, she told him.

♡ “Don’t worry,” he said, voice quiet. He patted her mane, rubbed the space between her ears. “I won’t.”

♡ Upon Yandere Outlaw’s return, he cuts you loose. He doesn’t apologise, but his silence is thick enough with the accent of shame that you can tell he regrets, in whatever slim capacity, what he’s done.

♡ He puts together a simple meal tonight, either for a lack of trusting that you won’t spike his meal with one of the earth’s thousand natural poisons, or as an apology for his actions.

♡ That night, as you lay next to the Outlaw in bed, your hands and legs bound to the bedposts, the Outlaw looks over you. Watches you.

♡ He doesn’t know why the image of you being tied up hadn’t aroused him as much as it had earlier. Especially now, of all times, with you sleeping beside him, entirely incapable of defending yourself if he acted on his primal desires.

♡ Perhaps it was the thrill of the prospect of having everything on the line, of losing you. Perhaps it was the display of his strength, his ability to make you do whatever he pleased through physical force alone.

♡ Yandere Outlaw tried to dampen his thoughts by placing his hat over his face; to stop the heat he was certain made his cheeks glow in the pitch blackness of the cabin. 

♡ And to stop the onslaught of another issue. 

♡ Taking a dip in the cold waters of the river this time of night didn’t much appeal to him. Especially when he could indulge himself a little longer in the image of you gagged, bound and entirely his.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (v)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, witchcraft

A/N: it's like i never left amirite (im sorry it has been like 10 months pls forgive me ily guys let's pretend this series never went on hiatus) (i had cancer and college but now I've graduated from both and i live babyyy. anyway. welcome back to my house of horrors)

Previous part || Series masterlist

When you tell Maya you want to do witchcraft, you'd done so with the full expectation of defending your idea with the force of a PhD student who was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She surprisingly agrees. 

“Really?” It's hard to stop the astonishment from entering your voice. Honestly, it sort of pisses you off that the Canva presentation you spent five hours on wouldn't actually see the light of day.

“Yeah, sure. I think it'd do well with the older demographic. ” She shrugs.

"Really?" Now you weren't sure she was on the same plane of existence as you were.

“Make some animals talk. Conjure up some parking spots.”

Ah. 

“I was thinking more like... hexing people and shadow demons,” you test slowly.

That seems to tether her to reality.

Her head cranes towards you centimetre by centimetre, like she was buffering in real time.

“Are you insane?" she states, not very much sounding like she was expecting an answer. "Do you want to end up on the news? Do you know how vicious Facebook groups can be?” 

“No PR is bad PR,” you preach wisely, parroting advice you’d seen bots on Twitter tell other bots. 

“That doesn’t apply to you. I already have a tough time explaining Stephen Strange and why he’s not literally the devil to the public."

Now that was a little unfair. Perhaps it warranted another Canva presentation.

"Have you considered that I'm hotter and significantly cooler than Stephen Strange?" you suggest helpfully.

She squints at you, or more likely your audacity. "I will not have another scandal on my hands this week.” 

“But next week is okay?”

Her hardened stare tells you quickly what a thousand words cannot.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Thou limit me so, Maya. How is one to find you invigorating content in these trying circumstances?”

Maya taps your shoulder on her way out, crooning, “There’s a reason I asked you to do this series. You’ll figure it out.”

You hide a smile with an all too dramatic sigh. “Thou compliment me so. How am I to not fall in love with thee?”

Maya shakes her head playfully. “Nothing that will get me called into a press conference by mid-day. No hexing. No extreme curses. ”

“Mid-level curses it is, then” you call after her.

Her leaving figure does not give you a reply.

After a week of staring at the corner of his room through the night, delirious to the point where he seriously considered using Sam’s Amazon Prime account to buy his own stupid ghost apparatuses, Bucky throws in the towel.

Clearly, he was mistaken. Sleep deprived and probably missing his family a little more than he would have ever admitted to a living soul.

Bucky's sleep deprivation adds to his already charming and sociable personality.

No one would touch him with a ten-foot pole. Bucky’s usually grumpy and while everyone had sort of built a tolerance towards his regular nonsense, he was now the very sexy combination of grumpy and sensitive.

For his part, after last week's shenanigans, Bucky has stuck to avoiding anything and everything horror.

He watches only romcoms and finds that while everyone says he seems most like Harry from Harry Met Sally, he hates that Mike Wazowski motherfucker with a passion. 

While everyone else seems to get the memo, you have chosen to ignore it blissfully, and have instead been prancing about all week, shoving meme after meme into his face.

Bucky Barnes smiling compilations that were 7 seconds long. Bucky Barnes social media fanfictions that showed him replying far more than he had ever replied to anyone in real life ever.

Bucky’s learnt to ignore you with a long-suffering glare. You adapt quickly, skillfully dodge the daggers shooting out of his eyes and shove another TikTok in his face. It is an edit of him to Toxic by Britney Spears. He doesn't want to ask where they got some of the footage they used.

After the fifth Twitter screenshot, he takes to avoiding you like the plague.

Unfortunately for Maya, that involved avoiding the set too. He sees on the official The Graveyard Shift channels that there’s an announcement put out about an episode delay. 

It is undeniably his fault. No, he still won't answer the group chat or the several knocks at his door every day.

But because the universe is invested in his sorrow, you seem to find him wherever he goes.

In the garden, digging through the vegetable bed.

In the storeroom, looking through oversized cookware.

When he walked into the alley behind the Tower and found you there, he hissed at you like a feral cat and you asked very loudly what the fuck was wrong with him. 

He checks every part of him and all his clothes for a tracker but no-- you just seem to have a karmic connection level of being exactly where he is. 

When he runs into you for the fourth time at the library, he really thinks he’s lost it.

“Are you following me?” he asks, voice sharp.

You look at him in wonder. “Your ego is so big it could have its own gravitational pull. How do you carry around your massive head all day?"

“Everywhere I go, you’re there.” He continues, finger pointing in accusation. 

“Bitch, you're the one who walked in here," you exclaim. "I’ve been here all day.”

“Doing what?”

“Who’s following who now?” you dare.

“Because you’re in this section.” He does a quick check to see what section it actually is. Witchcraft and Wizardry. He may not have known that when he accused you but he definitely was not wrong.

“Why do you care what I do here?”

Because he's wondering if he’s managed to shut down production permanently and sent a bunch of people into unemployment.

“I don’t trust you here," he settles on instead. "What are you actually doing?"

“I’m learning things. Gaining knowledge. And such." You gesture vaguely before you narrow your eyes at him. "Not that you would know, you ape.”

He scoffs. He had the intelligence of a thousand suns, mind you.

“You don’t even have a book," he counters.

“So? I’m gaining knowledge through osmosis.” You look around. “I’m absorbing.”

His nose twitches, teeth clenched.

“Whatever,” he mumbles instead, turning his attention to the bookshelf.

As he thumbs through various titles he’s too annoyed to read, a small movement catches his attention. 

He watches you from the corner of his eyes. 

“What?” you demand, this whole exchange too damn loud for a library. 

“What?” he challenges right back. “Why are you watching me?”

“Why am I– you’re the one staring at me.” You throw your hands up. “First you follow me here, second you accuse me of things that would get me burnt at the stake a couple of years ago, third you accuse me of watching you just 'cause you know you're pretty. You–”

Bucky narrows his eyes, not missing the random compliment you slipped in.

“Hold on just one second. That’s why you’ve been avoiding everyone all week.” You stare at him, wide-eyed and unrelenting.

He thinks he must have missed some part of the conversation because he has no idea why you're looking at him like you've figured him all out.

“That’s why you’ve been so jumpy and sleep deprived ever since that episode you filmed.”

Bucky’s gaze doesn’t waver, but his mind races and his breath falters for a second. There’s no goddamn way you knew what had gone down, he’d deleted every footage that could possibly–

“You missed me.”

He stops his overthinking right in its tracks.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” You tilt your head, face full of pure sympathy. “You filmed one episode without me by your side and realised you couldn’t live without me.”

“Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters, eyes pressed closed tighty, partially in relief. 

“You want me, don’t you? You want me so bad it makes you throw u–”

“Fuck off.” Bucky turns on his heel at the speed of light.

“You have a fat, raging crush–”  

“I’m fuckin' moving out.” His voice is like rocks.

“You can move out, but you can never move on, baby,” you whisper-shout. “When’d you realise you liked me, Bucky? Night one? The first hou–”

He slams the library door behind him. 

From: Stevie Left some strawberries outside your door. They’re good. 

From: Stevie How are you doing today, by the way?

From: Bucky alive

From: Bucky and thanks 

From: Stevie Anything we have to talk about? Your wood chisels didn’t break again, did they?

From: Bucky nothing im fine

From: Stevie You sure? Time for a Cypress Hills visit?

From: Bucky no im fine 

From: Stevie You haven’t left the room in a week. Beat your old record and I'm going to start getting worried here.

Bucky stares at his phone wondering how he ended up with a mother a century after his own died, before sighing.

From: Bucky going to film a video this week. im fine

From: Bucky promise 

Because there really was no other way to convince Steve that he as leaving the cave he constructed from his comforter.

From: Steve Good to hear. I’m always across the hallway if you need anything. 

From: Bucky i know. your gramophone won’t let me forget it. 

From: Steve Dick.

From: Bucky it is too damn loud. old ass

From: Steve Got a new record. Haven’t listened to it yet.

From: Bucky ill be there in 10

That Friday, Bucky walks onto the set in his finest black hoodie and darkest sunglasses, looking less like a badass and entirely like a hungover teenager. 

Before he has a chance to even register what’s going on, he is ambushed by lights, a team touching up his face and his stupid dollar store sunglasses leave him before he has a chance to protest.  

“I told you he’d show up,” you pipe up proudly from your place at the table. “Lil' shit simply missed me too–”

“Stop,” he interrupts, finally getting around to look at the set when the foundation brushes stop assaulting his line of vision. 

For a hot second, he thinks you've taken over Steve's cooking show. 

There are candles floating around, which he assumes you're holding up. A large… cauldron, gigantic wooden mixing spoons and 50 little bowls worth of ingredients are neatly arranged on the table.

“What the hell is going on?” he questions immediately. “What is all this?”

“Mise en place, baby,” you reply, shutting a book you had on the table loudly before looking at him. “You’re on dish duty. Come on.” 

“What?” His eyebrows pull into a frown. 

You dust off your hands before reaching under the table and chucking an apron at him. “Back when I worked as a line cook, the number one rule was to clean up as you go. I like to think of it as--”

“What is going on here?” he specifies, already trying to piece together your timeline in his head with every new piece of lore.

“Welcome to my kitchen, motherfucker.” Your grin is nefarious. “We're gonna do some witchcraft.” 

After he spends fifteen minutes on the phone with Maya confirming that yes, that is indeed the episode and that the heads up he needed would have reached him if he opened the seventeen million messages on the group chat– he finally comes to stand behind the bench with you, a tick in his jaw but also with enough self-awareness to be sheepish. 

He thought his grand return to the channel would be a simple video with some ghost reading or whatever, not… this. 

He turns to you, ready to reach a compromise that ends with him not having to be there at all.

But in the fifteen minutes he had turned his attention to the call, you’ve somehow convinced them to start rolling before he gets the chance to leave, so he’s immediately hit with a--

“We’re on in three…two–”

“Where is your apron?” you demand, looking him up and down.

“I’m not wearing that shit.” It had some stupid slogan like ‘Life is about taking whisks!’ and he had already been through enough.

“Jeez, annyone would think that you're not in love with me--"

"I'm not."

"--by the way you're so ungrateful. I got that custom-made for you,” you tsk. “I could've gotten the other one. Mine could've said ‘he’s my sweet potato’ and yours could've said ‘I yam’.”

Bucky experiences a whole-body chill. 

“Whatever," you dismiss with a wave of hand before looking into the camera. "Before we get started, we recognize that for some, witchcraft is a deeply meaningful religion and spiritual practice that should be approached with respect and curiosity.”

“We’re not claiming this is the definitive guide to witchcraft, we’re simply trying out a book that’s been highly recommended for better or worse, and seeing where it leads us. Whaddya say, Bucko?

You look at him for input. Bucky stares at the dusty, hole-ridden monstrosity on the table.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asks finally after a long pause.

You tap the thick, old book. “Witchcraft for Weenies: A Totally Legit Guide to Authentic Witchcraft by A. Harkness.”

“Is that the actual name or are you just making it up?”  

“Rich coming from the only one between us who actually lied on camera--" you glare at him. "I would never fabricate my sources, I’m a champion for academic integrity.”

You pick up the book to show him, flipping it towards the camera too and sure enough, the book that was basically falling apart at the binding was called exactly that.

“Let’s-a go, baby.”

You stare at him, lips pressed together. Bucky gives no inclination towards changing his answer. 

“Fine. We’re going to do this the hard way, I see.” You exhale, reaching into the pocket of your apron. 

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together when you brandish a deck of cards, yank his arm towards you and drop it into his open palm. 

“Shuffle," you command.

Something very familiar faces him.

Bucky stares at the cards before looking back at you. “Why’s my face on it?”

“It’s a tarot deck I got from Comic Con,” you insist. “Avengers themed. Now shuffle it.”

He thinks you left that card on top on purpose, but regardless, he's already been too much of a menace to the crew to be the cause of any more disturbance.

So he slowly begins, careful and skilled, before you scoff in his face.

“Faster, grandpa," you chide. “I’ve seen the way those hands cut garlic when no one’s around, I know you move faster than that.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but complies anyway, shuffling the cards with the adeptness only a certain Jim Morita could have taught him in a dark tent to keep him awake on a night watch. 

“Faster,” you goad, face smug. “Faster. Come on now, Barnes, your age finally catching up to you?”

It’s stupid– he doesn’t even know why he’s actually complying and increasing his speed. He can’t believe that he was letting you pressure him.

“C’mon, faster, Barnes, you abso-”

His hands were moving so fast by then that they’d have to put the video in slow motion to catch all the movement.

“Faster–” and in the commotion, a few cards fly out.

“Brilliant, thanks.” You slam them down on the table, plucking the deck out of his hand before he has a chance to process why the fuck he actually went ahead with what you were trying. 

“Right, so the universe has decided that these will be your cards,” you tell him, and he finally looks down at what had fallen out of the deck. 

The cards show Sam’s Captain America shield, Carol Danvers, and Spider-Man, with words written below.

“The Star, Six of Cups, The Hanged Man,” you read out thoughtfully.  

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they’ll fall out of his skull. 

“You know, I’m going to just make a general assumption and say you need help.” You hum to yourself. “I'm gonna make a potion to get you some.”

“Get me some?” He's too busy trying to figure out what the cards could possibly mean to see that he's walked straight into that one.  

“Get you some perspective. You need an advisor who’ll dish it to you straight. Give you the facts, no bullshit–”

"No." He had too many of those in his life and he has had enough of people being “honest” and "straightforward” and telling him his moustache was ugly every time he dared to try out a new look–

Until you reach under the table and again and suddenly, there’s a white creature buzzing around on the table in front of him.

“Behold– your new advisor,” you announce.

From the corner of his eye Bucky can see the production team scrambling to figure out where the hell this was going. He lip-reads producers’ orders to find adoption links or resources to insert during post-production, and teasers on social media, to make this look more planned. Great, so no one was prepared-- it wasn't just him.

“Whose fucking cat is this?” He looks down at it, all white except for a few brown spots all around, green eyes and evil in her aura.

“Relax, I'll give her back when we're done.”

“Give her ba–” he echoes. “Where did you get her?” 

“The alley outside,” you coo, rubbing under her chin. “I checked and she doesn’t have an owner. But look at her, she’s meant to be here.”

Bucky looks at the cat. The cat looks back at him, irises narrowing into slits. His nose twitches. 

“You can’t just bring a cat–”

“Remember to adopt, not shop,” you say to the camera before clapping your hand. “Anyway. If my potion goes according to plan, she will be giving you unsolicited life advice for eternity.” 

“You will be unemployed, then,” Bucky manages to add while watching the chaos unfold behind the camera.

“Nonsense, I’m irreplaceable.” You grin. “Besides, you can't manufacture chemistry like this even in a cauldron.” 

You send him a flying kiss. His glower was as sharp as laser beams.

“Let’s get started.” You grin at the camera. 

Bucky tries to pet the cat. She hisses at him.

Well all-fucking-right then.

One hour later, things have descended into madness of the most mundane kind.

It was precisely when you started telling him ten minutes in that a book had nothing on your instincts and raw intelligence that Bucky knew that this was going to shit. 

The cauldron was on an electric stove unlike the open fire demanded by the book because the team had enough foresight to know it would be a fire hazard.

You toss in something that looks like cardamom but he isn’t sure at this point. He just wanted to get away from the bright lights and the strange smiling liquid boiling awai.

The cat sits obediently by your side, watching curiously. He is convinced that she is evil.

Unfortunately, Bucky has had to hold her back twice when she tried to stick her paw in to attack a bubble, and at this point, he doesn’t think he has it in him to do it a third time. 

You read the recipe as if it makes any sort of fucking difference now.

“We’re almost done,” you sing. 

Bucky nurses his headache.  “Don't give me hope.” 

“Put some more reegelbeetle seeds in,” you dictate. “This is gonna work, I can feel it.”

Bucky uses his free hand to do as you say. He doesn’t even think it’s the right one, he just reaches for whatever is closer to you and you don't seem to care either.

You toss in some more seeds, stir twice and then turn off the stove. 

“Boom.” You lift the spoon up, watching the thick liquid drip back. “This is either a talking potion or a hex.” 

"Hex to do what?”

“I think it activates dormant allergies.” You squint at the book that literally had no significance besides being a prop. “You got any?”

“No.” But it makes him think of Steve’s pollen allergies. 

“Oh. Well, then there’s only one outcome here.”

“Alright, here we go.” Of the gigantic pot that you’d just stirred, you fish the tiniest amount out on the smallest spoon he’d ever seen, which you also apparently stored in the vast space that was your apron pocket.

The cat watches you hold the spoon near its face.

It takes a sniff. Then two. Finally, after deeming it non-poisonous, it sticks out its tongue the tiniest bit and takes a lick.

The whole crew is silent.

Bucky’s hand is still pressing against his temples.

“Tell us your name,” you urge, voice hopeful.

The cat looks at Bucky, and for a second, something akin to understanding flashes in its eyes. It’s uncanny and weird and something about it unsettles him deeply. 

You seem to catch it too because you look at him in surprise. He looks back at you, face pulled into a frown. 

And for a moment, he wonders. If you'd somehow done it. Because there’s no fucking way–

Then it meows.

He exhales.

Your shoulders drop as you let out an “Aw, man.”

"Great. Goodbye. Like and subcribce to the bell icon," he calls out, dusting his hands against his pants.

Someone from the production crew sneezes.

Both of you turn to him immediately. 

At the same instant, someone else all the way on the opposite end sneezes again, and the whole crew turns to look at them, before another sneezes in the front.

“We did it!” you cheer.

“We didn’t do jack,” Bucky interjects immediately as the crew errupts into a cacophony of chatter and sneezes.  

“It’s a hex that activates allergies and they’re sneezing,” you point towards them with the spoon, triumphant.

“You threw fifteen fuckin' pounds of pepper in there,”  he argues. “You've turned this room into a sandstorm of dry spices. This proves nothing.” 

“I’ve connected the dots.” Your eyes shine, ignoring him.  

“You didn’t connect shit.”

“I’ve connected them.” 

Someone in the corner sneezes. He wonders if Steve’s allergies would be activated by the trace amounts of... cursed soup that he carries with him back to the floor. 

“Well, we can’t leave them like this, Bucky.” You look around, tsking. “We gotta make a reverse hex or something.”

“You can,” he says. “It’s called opening the windows.”

“Nope,” you pop the last syllable. “We’re making another potion. C’mon.”

“First of all, this is not a potion–” he begins, but is interrupted by a buzz on his phone, the screen lit up by a text on the groupchat. 

From: Maya I don’t give a shit if it’s placebo or not. Make a damn potion before you get sued for hexing employees. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. 

“Beautiful. Grab the ash sphinx flakes,” you brandish another big cauldron from fuck knows where.

Bucky stares at you, unmoving.

“Just get the oregano,” you sigh. 

The cat tries sticking her paw in the pot again.

Bucky feels a sneeze incoming.

Whether the hex and subsequent anti-hex Maya forced you to make at gunpoint was real or not, is yet to be determined scientifically.

What actually does happen, is the damn apron you give him carries enough trace amount of your stupid experiment, that it somehow activates Steve’s very real pollen allergy. Bucky finds himself on edge for the rest of the day every time the man rattles the walls with his middle aged dad sneezing.

It carries on over to his show, which means Steve’s episode on baking a 1950s chocolate cake from tomato soup is edited extremely strangely to cut out every sneeze.

Which means Nat’s episode on spy inaccuracies in Argylle takes twice as long to film because they have to take a few seconds every time Steve’s sneezes interrupt her from the set next door.

Which means Bruce’s video on the science behind memory is delayed on shooting.

All in all, something does seemed to have been hexed, but it mostly seems to be everyone’s fucking productivity.

Finally, everyone manages to get through the day, and the videos are sent to post production.

The same night when everyone’s gathered at the dining table to commemorate the end of another shoot day, Bucky slips out, knowing that Steve would save him a slice of pizza if he never returned. 

He goes back to the library to return his copy of Understanding Wood Finishing, when his curiosity leads him back down a familiar path. 

It’s where he finds you again, in the same corner as the last time, on the floor, surrounded by shelves.

“You again.” You quirk an eyebrow when he appears from the shadows. "Aren't you supposed to be eating pizza?"

“What are you absorbing now?” he asks, voice low for once, respecting the sanctity of the library now that day had slipped into night and everything seemed a bit more solemn now.

“Nothing,” you answer.

“Then why are you here?” 

He figured you’d be out there, introducing everyone to the cat that was now set to be roaming the halls, before someone assumed it was a shapeshifting enemy and dealt with it accordingly.

“God forbid someone get some peace and quiet for once,” you mumble. “It’s too loud out there.”

Oh.

You don’t say anything else, leaning back against the bookshelf with your eyes closed.

There really isn't a need for more words. He gets it. 

The understadning leaves silence in its wake. Bucky doesn't really have anything to say.

“Did you come here just to stare at me?” you ask finally. “Did you finally admit your feelings?” 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Only a matter of time.” You smile before changes to something more subdued, a bit more serious. “You wanna talk about what’s actually been bugging you for the last week?”

Bucky looks at you wearily. “The tarot cards tell you something?”

You eye him. “Not more than what’s obvious. Wanna talk about it?”

He swallows, throat suddenly feeling like it's closing in on itself. 

“No.”

“Alrighty.” 

You say nothing more than that, leaving the both of you in relative quiet, save for the buzz of the warm fluorescent light above. 

Bucky takes an awkward seat next to you on the floor.

You pry open an eye to look at him in suspicion.

“Y’mind?” he manges.

“Mind what?”

He gestures to himself uncomforably, readiy to jump up and leave at any second.

You observe him for a second, and for once he stares back with no irritation in his look, just permission.

“No, you can sit.” You close your eyes. “So long as you don’t tell anyone else 'bout this place.” 

If there’s anything Bucky’s good at, it’s keeping a secret. 

He settles back into the shelf with an exhale, letting the weight of day roll off his shoulders.

You wordlessly slide a thermos towards him. He doesn’t even have to open it to know it’s the damn soup from that afternoon.

And if he’s being honest, it doesn’t taste that bad at all. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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Next part

[sparklyskies0]

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

‘No, I wanna see you undress now

I wanna hear you confess now, ’

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) y/n and chris have hated each other for as long as they can remember. Never minding the lingering tension that fills up the room whenever they’re together. When chris and y/n get into a heated argument about her new boyfriend that he quite obviously doesn’t seem to approve of, there’s nothing more left to say and everything becomes a blur.

warnings : poc!reader, angry drunk unprotected sex, fem receiving(oral sex!), dom!chris, glass breaking, scratching/blood, cursing, etc..

It was friday night, rainy and humid. Nothing but wet trees and fog filled the hot air. Y/n spent the night sneaking into clubs with her friends and drinking. Not all her friends, if you include chris sturniolo. Her worst enemy. For as long as she can remember, she’s always hated him, she doesn’t quite remember why or when it started. Possibly sometime during high school, she just recalls chris hating her so it’s only fair to hate him back, right?. Point is─ if it weren’t for them sharing the same friend group y/n would never be seen in the same room as chris sturniolo.

Y/n was drunk out of her mind, Every step she took almost resulted in her face first on the wet concrete floor. She can usually handle her liquor, but tonight was a complete different story. As fun as a night out with friends was for y/n, things got cut short when her new boyfriend troy decided to pick a fight. Causing a mild scene at the club getting her and all that came with, kicked out. In her defense, it was her first night out with him. Their relationship is fresh and the getting-to-know stage is still in effect, she had no idea he was a reckless drunk that hates when his partner is enjoying herself. And just as if her night couldn’t get any worse, her friends all piled up in two cars leaving y/n, alone with hers. Considering she was under the influence her friends leave her favorite person in the whole world to drive her home, chris.

The car ride was silent, the sound of the car air conditioner, filling it. Y/n sighed as she sat in the passenger seat of her own car , looking out of the window. The view was blurry as drops of rain and steam covered the glass. y/n glanced at the boy to her left, his one hand on the steering wheel while the other is rested beside him. Chris feels her eyes on him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He comes to a stop at a red light, still feeling the girls eyes pierce into him. He double takes, “what?” his voice toned with clear annoyance. y/n shook her head, shrugging off her thoughts. “just can’t believe you’re driving my car.” the girl spoke with a sigh.

“yea, well you’re too wasted to drive”

“you’re boyfriend could’ve drove you if he wasn’t such a bitch and left”

y/n groans, here he goes

she rested her head on her hands, leaning closer to the window. she rolled her eyes in annoyance at the boy in the drivers seat.

“fuck off, we got kicked out” she defended

“because of him.” he protested. The light turned green, he glanced at the girl, the most irritated expression ever on his face and he resumed driving.

“all im saying is, you’re dating a piece of shit” he adds. This, is when y/n began to take offense.

“chris you don’t even know him.” she sits up

“neither do you!” chris announced

“isn’t this like you’re—what, second date?!”

y/n grew irritated, tired of the boy trying to tell her who she does and doesn’t know, no matter if he’s right.

“ he has to be the biggest asshole I have ever seen” he provokes. “clearly you haven’t seen yourself” y/n speaks, frustration in her voice

chris’s rolled his eyes, turning his gaze to her for a split second. “oh really?” he scoffs “god, you’re the worst asshole on the planet, chris!” y/n says, now enraged

“oh fuck you” chris curses

“no, chris—fuck you”

After those last words, nothing else was said. Y/n quietly took pride in having the last word, which she usually does. chris approaches her driveway and stops. y/n opens her car door immediately getting out. sighing of instant relief of being released from the tight space that she shared with chris sturniolo. the drive couldn’t have been longer.

due to lack of standing on her feet, y/n almost feels herself fall. stumbling but catching herself, she cursed. chris, exited the car shortly after. closing the door, he glanced up sighing to himself at the girl carefully walking to her front door.

he caught up to her, stepping to the side as she takes out her keys from her clutch, opening her door. Walking in she lets out a small sigh. Switching the light on revealing her living room. Chris closed the door behind him. “you didn’t have to walk me inside” y/n turned around, almost forgetting the boy was with her.

“do you not see yourself? you can barely walk” chris says smartly “god can you not be an asshole for one second” y/n spats

“i’m not a fucking kid, you don’t need to watch me or follow me around”

chris lets out a scoff, “no, but you’re someone who makes stupid fucking decisions like a kid” he responds “exhibit A” he points to the nightstand in her living room , a framed picture of y/n and troy on their first date, a gift he gave her.

“oh my fucking god chris! what is your problem” y/n exclaimed, “ever since i started seeing him you’ve been even more of a dick than you usually are and i’ve been trying to go with it but it’s just annoying now!”

“I just thought you were smarter, you know”

“if there was anyone I expected you to be with it would not be someone like him” he exclaimed back

“why the fuck do you care? why is that any of your business?!” she shouted out. The living room filled with silence . “who i date is absolutely none of your concern. so you can take your fuck ass opinion and shove it up you─” her words were cut off by chris slamming his lips into hers .

it happened too fast for her to process it. Chris pulled away, his face hot and almost, greedy. y/n looked into his eyes. She didn’t know what was happening, or why he just did that. She doesn’t know why she wants more. Grabbing the back of his head she pulls him back in. The kiss was hot, their mouths moving along each other, chris’s tongue demanding entry against her lips. y/n opened, letting him in. Muffled moans filled the room. Their tongues fighting for dominance.

chris removed his lips from hers allowing them both to catch a breath. He traced kisses along her jaw. They unknowingly ended up backed up against the wall in her living room, by her front door. Y/n lifted her head up, giving him full access to her neck. her eyes closed shut, biting her lip. she grabbed the sides of his face guiding him back up to her face, wanting more of his lips on hers. Chris bit her lip, his right arm stretched over her head, keeping himself supported as her back placed against the cold wall.

he pulled her leather jacket off throwing it to the ground, revealing her red lace top. His hands snaked down to her ass hoisting her up and on the nightstand beside them. After setting her down, his free hand grabbed something pushing it off leaving more room on the stand. As the object hit the ground, glass shattered. The two broke the kiss at the sound, looking down. “chris…” y/n says looking down at the picture frame with the glass the protected it, shattered. Chris looked back up, making eye contact with the girl. He shrugged and pressed his lips back on hers.

As he trailed kisses along her lips and neck. he grabbed the straps of her red top pulling them down slowly. From y/n’s pov, he looked majestic. As he stood in between her legs , lips between his teeth sexily undressing her upper half. Her breast were set free. The cool light in the room reflected beautifully on her now bare, caramel skin.

“fuck” he breathed, his face low

he did not hesitate to take all of her left boob in his mouth, his tounge swirled around her now hard nipples. The right not being left out for too long, and he sucked it hungrily, gripping the other.

y/n moaned out, the vibrations and pleasure as he stimulates her breasts with his mouth and hands taking over. she could cum just like this if he keeps it up.

“fuck, chris”

chris then trailed kisses all over her body. when he made his way down her stomach, her back arched.

chris stopped at the hem of her skirt. Who knew wearing a skirt despite the horrible weather will come in handy for y/n?

he looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust. y/n looked down at him. moaning at the sight.

his eyes are so pretty and blue, why hasn’t she noticed this before?

not letting another second pass, chris slipped her skirt off throwing it down. Her black lace underwear now in clear view. Y/n’s breath hitched. Feeling her juices soak the fabric guarding what chris wanted most. she wonders if he can tell how wet she is.

chris grazed his fingers along her wet pussy. her underwear practically drenched. “look how wet you are for me” he speaks, kind of like a whisper

he traces his fingers along her folds threw her panties. her eyes fighting roll to the back of her head at the sensation.

it was as if something took ahold of chris, because his once slow and sensual acts became merely greedy and harsh. He ripped the fabric off and dove his face into her cunt.

this took y/n by surprise as she shoots up and gasps. the feeling of his tongue on her pussy sending vibrations and shivers down her spine. her now rosy cheeks, flushed.

his hands grabbed the sides of her waist. The girl a moaning mess in front of him. “shit, chris—fuck” she moaned, her fingers ran throw his brunette silky hair

Chris flickered his tounge up and down her pussy, moaning against it. The girls moans got louder. He sucked and circled around her sensitive clit.

“fuck, you taste so good” he came up for air. the girl practically whimpered. how the fuck did she get here? home late on a friday night drunk as chris sturniolo eats her out..

Chris worked his tongue some more as y/n got closer and closer “chris im gonna—” the girl moaned out, her breathing got heavy as she felt the tight pit in her stomach grow. Those words were affirmations of encouragement for chris, making him go faster. The girls moaning stopped for a split second, her mouth gaping open into an ‘0’ shape as her climax took over

she groaned biting her lip, chris stood down there assisting her through her high. she pants massaging the top of his head as that’s all that she can see of him right now. he lifts his head up, feeling accomplished. his mouth area glossy with her juices. He stands up slamming his lips into hers. she tastes herself on his lips moaning into the kiss. chris hands placed on both sides of her face. as the kiss grew more, he hand made its way to the back of her head, running his hands through her curly black hair.

y/n looked at him. her doe eyes, needing him. her hands trailed his body. she reached the bottom of his t-shirt lifting it over him. she kissed his collar bones and neck. her free hands snaking into his pants, grabbing ahold of his bulge in his boxers. he winces and moans. “fuck me..” she whispers looking him in the eye. chris, tempted but shook his head “you’re drunk” he states.

“that didn’t stop you before” she moaned to him. their faces inches apart, every time they speak, their mouths brush one another. chris looked down at her lips. biting his “what?.. you scared?” she taunts , a hum leaving her lips as she bit them

chris took that as a challenge. even when intimate they can’t seem to not tease each other.

chris immediately unbuckled his belt bringing down his pants, leaving his underwear, y/n grabbed a handful of his cock once again stroking it through his underwear. Chris moaned, burying his head down into her neck, his warm breath on her shoulders. he placed light bites along them. y/n slipped off his boxers as his cock sprung out. She moaned at the sight, he’s bigger than she imagined─hold up . she imagined the size of chris sturniolo’s cock?

she continued to stroke his dick, using his precum and some spit as lube.

she bit her lip harshly as she aligned him up with her entrance. he slid into her, slowly at first, then he slid back out. And slammed back in.

He thrusted in and out of her roughly. Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck for support. Sounds of skin clapping together and moans filled the home. Chris growled, removing her hands from around him pinning them above her head. the look on his face seeming familiar. like hate

this man was hate fucking her. and she loved every minute of it

chris let go of one of her hands as he wraps his tightly around her neck. he pulls her closer to him, chests pressed against each other. His left arm still pinning her right arm over her, while his right hand grips her neck. she threw her right leg over his shoulder as her left remained wrapped around him, her left remaining arm keeping her supported. she moaned loudly “holy shit chris fuck fuck fuck!”

her eyes rolled back. chris never shifted his gaze even a little bit, taking in every facial expression she makes. not wanting to miss the proof of how he’s making her feel.

“you like that, huh?” chris moans out

“like when im fucking you”

they held eye contact the whole time, y/n practically feeling her climax approaching just by his words.

chris let’s go of her neck , grabbing her legs returning them back around his waist. Y/n’s arms reached for his back. pulling him closer. Chris moaned into her ear “fuck, you feel so good. so.fucking.tight” he groans. He doesn’t know if he can hold on any longer. He speeds up, the clapping sounds intensify.

drowning in pleasure, y/n digs her nails into chris’s back. Chris winces, but found pleasure in the pain. biting his lip. “fuck, chris! just like that don’t stop”

“don’t stop” she repeats. digging her nails deeper. covering his back with scratches

chris goes faster, he can feel her juices building up.

y/n can feel chris’s cock twitching inside of her signaling how close he is.

“look at me, look at me while you cum on my cock baby” chris presses his forehead against hers. his hair dripping with sweat. Y/n obeys, staring deep into his eyes. she no longer sees the guy that she hates, she sees someone who is making her feel like she’s never felt before.

the room got quiet, nothing but the sound of chris’s thrusts getting sloppier.

chris gasps , groaning loudly as his cock twitches. releasing his warm load inside of her. While at the same time, y/n’s eyebrows raised as her mouth gaped open, an inaudible moan leaving her mouth. her eyes rolled back. she gained her voice back in pants. “oh my god” she breaths out. out of breath. her legs tremble in sensitivity as chris thrusts slowly through her high. Chris brought his face to hers attaching their lips. This kiss was sloppy, tired and full of hatred?.

Y/n moaned into it. Chris pulled away, catching his breath. He slowly pulled out of her, his cum dripping down her thigh. They both look down, watching it.

Both a sweaty, sticky , hot mess.

They don’t know where they’ll go from this, they don’t even know if y/n will remember this the next day. But what is known, is that chris sturniolo is the last person on earth that she hates right now.

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

I can’t tell if i like this or not lmfao

anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this as my first official post/imagine.

sorry if the arguing was bad, I just wanted to get to the damn smut already

be sure to request anything ! i love you💟

xoxo paris

[the-obelisk]

Sparring with Mischief - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: The one where Loki and you begin hand to hand combat training and it goes not go according to plan.

A/N: It has been a good while since my last post (oops!) but I come with a gift! I found this deep in my drafts just for you x

You sat on the benches chugging the water you held after attempting to join Steve on his daily run. The super solider jokingly expressed that you needed to work on your endurance after you last sparring match with him. And mistakenly, that translated as a challenge to you. 

So, you joined. 

However, after the first two miles you could feel your mouth water from sickness. Steve told you to take a break offering kind words of how you held up better than Sam did his first go around. You rolled your eyes at the defeat and promised you wanted another go at it the next morning.

Yet, as you sat on one of the benches outside of the compound’s training facility you began to deeply regret you promise. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t take every opportunity to learn from your fellow members. 

But in that moment, you were tired of learning and wanted to simply give up half-way through whatever they threw at you. 

“You are going to drown yourself, little one.” 

You turned your head to see Loki smiling down on you. He made a comment at your attempts to empty your water bottle in hopes to rejuvenate and replenish from the torture you were sure that Steve secretly found amusing to watch as you paced slowly alongside him. 

“I ran with Steve.” You muttered before continuing, “And I made the mistake of committing myself to another morning run tomorrow.” 

He smirked and sat next to you on the bench. “Now why would you go and do that?” You looked at him and inhaled. He spoke before you could answer, “Wait, let me guess. You internally assumed it as a challenge.”

Puckering your lips, you tilted your head and closed the cap of your water bottle. “I never back down.” 

“That you do not. So prideful.”

You laughed, “I like a good challenge and I didn’t know he ran like 13 million miles. For fun, I might add.” You emphasized the fun part causing him to chuckle. You noted his usual training attire and spoke once more, “Why are you not sparring?”

He smirked, “The assassin has been looking to rip my head off. It is a cute effort, but I have fought her before. It is not a challenge.”

You snorted knowing all too well that Natasha was highly competitive in her sparring matches. She took an easy on you simply because you were new, for him, it would be her opportunity to remind him that she could nail him down to the ground if she wanted. 

“So, no one else to spar with?” 

He shook his head. “Not at the moment.”

You looked at him and smirked once again, “Moments over. Let’s roll.” You stood up earning a questioning eye from him. “Roll? Roll where?” 

Rolling your eyes you shook your head, “Roll as in let’s go. I’ll be your sparring partner.” 

He looked at you with amusement before standing up and towering over you slightly, “Was it not just five minutes ago that you were breathing heavily and eating that bottle of yours?”

You took a step closer, “Is it not better than having Nat try to decapitate you? Plus, I can use my powers with you.” 

Loki smirked at you, noting the surge of confidence in you. Once again you had made it internally a competition. “No powers before you blow up something else. I will not defend you when Stark comes in all worked up over his Midgardian junk again.” 

You took a moment to scan his face noting his playful eyes. You knew he enjoyed your taunts in attempts to get a rise from him, but he remained cool and collected as usual with you. “Fine.” You  sighed. “But the tree was your idea.” 

“I know, I am still hearing it from his thoughts every time I pass by him.”

---

An hour later and you had seemed to get a grip on his fighting style. Unlike Sam or Bucky, he was more fluid with his movements. He preferred his right side to his left. You mentally thanked Natasha for teaching you the art of observation after she pinned you the first 50 times in your earlier weeks. 

“You will have to do better than that, dove. I am a god after all.” Loki taunted you during your match. 

The others threw pieces of advice or worked in complete silence but with Loki you two would somehow get involved in a banter of sorts before one of you made a move against the other. 

“Must be the god of being annoying.” You muttered under your breath.

He smirked and came towards you quickly. Dodging his attempt by moving to the right and spinning to your left, he caught your arm causing you to grunt. “You really suck, you know?” 

Loki shrugged, “Stop analyzing my movements and feel your movements.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

He let go of your arm and huffed, “I can hear your thoughts. And while knowing how your opposite will come to you and fight is good, in war it is not useful.”

You smiled, “But this isn’t war, Loki. It’s sparring.” 

“And you, my dove,” He leaned down to meet your eyes, “would be chewed up if you keep trying to analyze what may happen instead of feeling the motions of combat.” 

And it seemed before you had a chance to speak, he attempted to whisk you from your feet. However, already on guard, you jumped up at the sight of his leg and moved away before he advanced on you a second time. 

And there you both were fighting in silence and determination. He was surprised at how quick you had picked up on his movements, blocking and dodging his hits. That was until you proceeded to kick him in the abdomen and landed right in between his legs. 

You hands flew up to your mouth as he stumbled back in pain. “Oh my-- I’m so sorry.” You ran towards him still mortified as he attempted to walk it off. 

You watched as he inhaled deeply and smile painfully, “You are getting better, the clumsiness may even be your advantage.” 

“I meant to hit your stomach, not your-- well, you know. There.” You straightened your back and circled your hand on your own body referencing where your foot has landed. If he wasn’t still feeling the dull pain he would’ve mocked your innocent action.

He breathed in and smirked, “If I was mortal, you probably would have had me on the floor but--”

“I’m a god after all. Yeah we know.” You smiled at him as you lightly mocked at him and shrugged, “I’m still sorry.”

He shook his head and stepped closer, “You do not have to apologize to me, however, next time I will have you pinned down after that.” 

You nodded and smiled tightly, “Duly noted, Trickster.” 

Loki looked at you and smiled. You knew if anyone else had accidently kicked him like that he would have fought harder in retaliation, yet with you he refrained. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you may be his only friend here or because like everyone else, you were being babied. 

The man before you trained his eyes on you and soon, sighed, “Yes, we can stop and eat.” 

Your mouth dropped, “Did you just read my thoughts?” Loki smirked with his back turned to you as he jumped off the training platform.

He shrugged and offered his hand to help you jump down as well. You spoke once again, “I thought we weren’t allowed to peer into each other’s minds?”

“No, you are not allowed. I have thousands of years of knowledge you are not allowed to know of.” 

“What is it? Top secret?” 

He chuckled and handed you your water bottle before walking out alongside you towards the kitchen, “They are not thoughts of this Midgardian waffle fries you keep thinking about for the last half hour.” 

You nodded knowing he was extremely guarded in his thoughts so you decided to allow him to deflect. “It’s okay. I know you want me to share my fries with you.”

Loki quirked his eyebrow and refuted, “Yes, because it is the only thing I have been thinking about all day.” 

“Don’t mock me.” You stated as the two of you passed the others in the common room and walked down the corridor. 

[nininikki]

𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝒹𝒹𝓎 𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂

⨾༊󠀺 summary: a beautiful socialite and a starving artist come to terms with what their love really means.

⨾༊󠀺 warnings: angst (sorry), class differences, arguing/yelling, reader is a spoiled brat and eren loves her anyway (lmk if i missed anything!)

⨾༊󠀺 author’s note: just a little something i wrote 🙈 nikki write something happy challenge GO

⨾༊󠀺 word count: 2.5k

8:17 PM

“this is the last time i’ll tell ya, (y/n),” the penetrating force of your father’s voice coupled with the strangled squeak of chair legs against the hardwood floor made your spine tense. as though someone had reached into your back and pulled it taut. “i don’t want ya seein’ that boy.”

was your head about to explode? could that be the reason for the ringing that filled your ears? the sudden heaviness of your tongue? as he rose from his seat, you couldn’t help but notice how utterly cloaked you were under the shadow of his stature. “why, daddy?” you hardly registered the force with which you pushed your own chair away from his desk as you stood. “‘cause he’s poor? ‘cause he’s not goin’ to yale? ‘cause he doesn’t have a membership at the club? ‘cause he actually wants to somethin’ worthwhile with his life?”

“tch, worthwhile.” he scoffed as he breached the exit of his study. “the boy wants to do art. he draws pictures, for crying out loud!”

“you’ve seen his paintings, daddy. they’re beautiful.” you staunchly defended, hot on his heels through the hallway and nearing the stairs. “and his name is eren.” the single, thin string of gold around your neck seemed to grow warmer and heavier with the mention of his name. 

“i don’t care if his name was picasso,” your father spat, “you’re not seein’ him again, and that’s that!” 

tears welled in your eyes, but refused to fall. a sob lodged uncomfortably within your throat. “but, daddy, i love him.”

for the first time since the topic arose, your father’s eyes met yours. halfway down the stairs, with the vein in his temple pulsing incorrigibly, he turned to look at you. “you don’t know what love is.”

an incredulous scoff escaped your mouth, and that is when the tears began to trail down your cheeks. not from despair, or heartbreak, but anger. “and you do?” you retorted, gingerly making your way closer to him. “you haven’t loved anyone since mom.”

“i have loved you,” he jabbed his finger in the direction of your face, stopping less than an inch away from the bridge of your nose. “and that has been enough.” his scotch scented breath fanned over your face in the most infuriating, condescending way imaginable. “since your mother died, i have given my life to loving you. protecting you!” you had never heard him sound so eerily vulnerable in your entire life. “and this is the thanks i get? you running off into the sun with dr. seuss?”

you took a step backward up the staircase, your chest heaving rapidly and face surely streaked with sloppy lines of mascara. “how could you say that, daddy? he makes me so happy. how could you say that?”

“well, the things that make us happy hardly ever benefit us, do they, honey?” you caught him chuckling beneath his breath, as if the idea of you having your own opinion was something so funny. “you don’t see it now, but one day you’ll thank me for this.”

then, he circled around you like a vulture, loosening his tie as he ascended the stairs and ventured in the direction of his room. “you’re not seein’ ‘im again. that’s final.”

in the last bit of protest left in your lungs, you shouted, “you can’t make me!”

his hoof-like footsteps came to a halt, but he hadn’t even turned to look at you. “if you love this boy more than your trust fund, i guess i can’t.” 

11:27 PM

hey

talk didn’t go so well

can i come over in like 30

the texts had hardly delivered fully before you were yanking the pajamas off your body and shoving your limbs into the fancy fabric of a stray, hanging dress. a pair of sandals was next. then, eren’s leather jacket. then, your purse. your body was on autopilot as it pried your window open and climbed down the trellis outside of your room. as you pulled your bmw from the driveway and didn’t stop it until you were outside eren’s apartment.

only then did you finally stop to look at your phone. through blurred vision you made out a text that said, just knock when you’re up.

***

eren was beginning to really detest the smell of cigarettes. he had a smoker for a father, and the smell clung to him like a second skin growing up. so it wasn’t as though it was unusual. resentment would be a more fitting word, he concluded. 

the first time he brought you to his place, you sneezed violently upon reaching his floor. his neighbor was an avid smoker, but he wasn’t aware the smell was strong enough to warrant any bodily reaction past a slight gag. it wasn’t your fault, he knew that. he had taken you all around the city that day, and your delicate nose had not agreed with any of it. “i’ve got some zyrtec inside, if you want.” he offered.

“it’s fine, ‘ren, seriously. this is, like, my third sneeze all day.”

it was actually your ninth. he had been counting.

so, yes, resentment was probably the best word. 

as your signature triad of knocks sounded against his door, eren couldn’t help but hope his neighbor had up and kicked the habit. if not forever, then just for this night of all nights.

talk didn’t go so well

he mentally recounted the text as he braced himself against the doorknob. didn’t go so well could have meant any number of things, and he would have no way of knowing for sure until—

another set of knocks disrupted his train of thought, this time accompanied by a wet sniffle.

eren had barely gotten the chance to look at you after nearly swinging the door off its hinges. he could feel you crying. the uncontrollable spasming in your arms and shoulders, choppy breaths turned to weak coughs, your mouth frozen agape in a muffled scream, forehead burrowing itself into his wishbone.

“hey, talk to me,” he whispered, trying to pull your face out of his shirt, hoping it would give you room to breathe if just for a moment. what little he could see of your face was soaked with tears tinged with tension. “it’s gonna be okay, baby, just talk to me.”

it took a couple minutes, wherein eren had led you into his bedroom, freed your shaking shoulders from his jacket, and just barely managed to get you to produce coherent sentences. 

“i’m sorry, eren.” you sighed in what seemed to be utter defeat. your feet swinging to and fro off the side of his bed, bare after you kicked your sandals off. “i tried to make him understand, but he’s never gonna.” at the last word, you let your forehead collapse onto his shoulder with another deep sigh.

as another tear fell from your eye and rolled into the groove above your top lip, eren began to wonder exactly what it was your father had said. he was the very embodiment of foreboding. they had met only once, and eren couldn’t recall him conveying anything resembling approval or even warmth. not in his eyes, his demeanor, or the half-grunts he had substituted for speech.

“hey, hey, look at me.” gently, he took your face in his hands, coaxing your eyes in his direction whilst thumbing away stray tears. “what’d you tell me a couple days ago, hm?” you batted your eyes in a way that made his heart skip before petulantly rolling them. with your face bunched up so delicately in his hands, your fluffy lashes casting soft shadows against your wet cheeks and eyes swimming in vulnerability he could see his reflection in, eren felt for a moment the two of you could transcend all those superficial labels that made loving one another such a challenge.

you were not rich, nor was he poor. there was no yale pre-law track in your future, and he was not an artist struggling to support himself. when you gazed into each other’s eyes with such soft yearning, you were just a man and a woman.

“nobody had to understand but us.” you muttered under a sniffle, momentarily closing your eyes as though the act of optimism physically pained you. just when eren thought he was about to smile, you spoke again. “but, ‘ren, it’s worse this time. he said he didn’t wan’ me seein’ you anymore. or else he’d take away my trust fund.”

in the latter bit of your sentence, your voice became eerily resolved for someone vocalizing every rich kid’s nightmare. the sudden calmness frightened him eons more than your crying. because try as you might to hide it, eren knew you loved being rich. you wore your gold and diamonds like a second skin, almost like a coat of armor. he knew you loved horseback riding, as well as excursions on your father’s yacht. you very scarcely discussed it with him (out of respect, he assumed), but he had become content with the fact that you would choose your money over him every single time.

“i won’t ask you to choose me.”

“what?” your voice cracked over the word. “eren, that’s what i came here to do.”

“well then stop it,” the words flew from eren’s mouth almost instinctively, as though something in his very biology felt that you were too good for him. although there was no denying that as the truth. everything about you—from the heavenly sound that was your laugh to the stack of golden cartier bracelets adorning your wrist. you were better than him, so much so that there wasn’t even a way to describe it. “please, (y/n), just stop.”

you scoffed, dipping your hands into his as incredulity knitted itself within your eyebrows. “stop? stop? no, eren, you don’t get it.” you shook your head vigorously, face straightening out as though you were regaining sense with every movement. “i came here to tell you that i’m choosing you. you’re what i want.”

he studied the curve of your trembling lip, silently wondering if you had gone mad and forgotten exactly what world you were living in. you spoke with the easiness of a girl who never had a worry in her life. eren loved that about you, even now when you sounded more foolish than anything. 

“and you know i can’t let you do that, right?” eren massaged the center of your palm with his thumb in an attempt to remain grounded. he knew it would be all too easy to let himself fall face first into your little fantasy, if only to keep you just a little longer. if he were a more selfish man, he would have. “i won’t let you do that.”

“won’t let me?” you pulled one of your trembling hands away to wipe the fresh tears spilling on your cheek. “please, eren, you’re startin’ to sound like my daddy.”

“well, maybe if he couldn’t talk some sense into you, i can.”

even as eren watched you process each word from his mouth, he was still shocked when you yanked your hands out of his altogether. “don’t tell me…” shakily, you got to your feet. “y-you’re turnin’ me away? you’re sending me back to him?”

“if by him you mean your father who loves you—”

you wasted no time at all interrupting him. it wasn’t exactly hard to tell that you were still grappling with the idea of being told no. “—oh for fuck’s sake, eren! how could you even say that knowing—”

“—and wants the best for you, then yes—”

“—how he feels about you? about us—”

“then yes, i’m sending you back to him!” the words erupted from his mouth and filled the air like poisonous smoke. he was standing now, towering over you, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation through a facade of dominance. had he ever screamed at you before now? the answer was written all over your face in big, wet eyes and a mouth contorted open in a silent cry.

“why?” a sob wracked your body. “i mean, why, eren? i thought you loved me.”

“more than anything, baby. and that‘ll never change. but sometimes love just isn’t enough.”

“love is the only reason i’m here! do you think i would be giving up my entire life if i didn’t love you?”

“and you think i would just let you do that if i loved you?” eren breathed as he fixed the strap of your dress that hung loosely off your shoulder. he tried his hardest to concentrate on how beautiful you looked, and not how he would never be able to afford to buy you anything this nice. “i won’t let you ruin your life so you can play house with me, okay? i care too much for you.”

you crossed your arms over your chest, and said something eren never imagined he would hear you say, “fine.” you said it with such an obvious facade of resolution that eren knew it was too easy to be real. “look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to go away.”

“don’t ask me to do that.”

“it’s the only way you’re getting me out of here.”

eren took a moment to look into your eyes. he had become so good at drawing them that he could do it blindfolded. he brought his hands to either side of your neck and felt your pulse begin to thump at the contact. he wished he could sketch that sweet sound and keep it tucked so close to his own heart that the beats began to synchronize. god, why did you have to make this so hard? 

he kissed you before he could even stop himself. he wanted to curse himself for being so weak, but he was hardly in his right mind whenever he kissed you. he savored the taste of your tongue and the softness of your lips. he kissed you until he could taste the bitterness of your tears. he kissed you so deeply, so passionately that he almost forgot why he was kissing you in the first place. almost.

eren broke away, and did his very best to keep his eyes trained on yours. “(y/n),” a mascara-colored tear streak stained the side of your nose. it’s not fair, eren lamented, holding your face in his hands as steadily as he could. “please go. go live your life, and don’t come back here.”

“you want me to leave?” you whispered as though you were saying some horrible curse word. “is that what you’re saying?”

“yes,” he took his hands off you and moved back a few paces, more for his sanity than yours. “i want you to go.”

silently, you moved across the room to slide your shoes back over your feet before exiting the room in a flurry of ferocious clicks against the floor. 

eren trailed awkwardly behind you, hoping to see you out despite knowing it would only twist the knife deeper inside him. “you’ll thank me for this one day.” he called out as you swung open his apartment door.

without even turning to face him, you sniffled, “fuck you, eren.” before slamming the door behind you and disappearing down the hall.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello amazing fandom and happy Wednesday :) Episode 3 off we go! So grateful to have my happy place back. To be able to do these first impressions. I love not knowing a single thing about this season really. Rachel being in the recap blew my mind. Like what?! Love the shock. Had zero clue she would be here this season. Let us get started.

7x03 Out of Pocket

We hit the ground running in this ep. Grey yelling at them to come to his office in front of the entire bullpen.... Lucy calling him the troublemaker we all know he is this year. heh Also he is one perpetually now thanks to you my dear. Brought out his playful side long ago. It’s been here to stay ever since. Love Tim replying it’s a fair assumption. Not fighting her on this even a little bit. It's fantastic.

Will say I love how Tim naturally jumps on the grenade for her. Old habits die hard. Or never die at all…Lucy isn’t here for it though. Still a little bristly (rightfully so.) Also I'm sure she thinks it isn't a good look that he does. Commenting she doesn’t need him to protect her. Grey is bemused by them and their flirty fight, but does have to rein them in because of course he does. LOL You can tell he’s happy they’re acting this way even if it's driving him nuts.

Tim jumps into apology mode. Not wanting to ruffle her feathers. It truly is a hair trigger response from him to shield her. He can't help it. Like breathing for him. Grey basically calling them out for their work flirt. ‘A weird itch they need to scratch’ heh I mean it is. Their version of foreplay let's be honest. Lucy seems quite embarrassed he has pointed this out.

Tim on the other hand....He is cheeky af in this dressing down of their's. ‘We didn’t put any money on it.’ With a big ole smirk on his face haha Oh my lord. No shame in the game for him. Who are you and what have you done with Tim Bradford?

Lucy is taking it seriously af. Where this goob to her left is cracking jokes and what not. Her face kills me. Like what are you doing? Do love seeing him be lighter and not so serious about everything. It’s delightful. Therapy is doing him wonders truly. Now Lucy isn’t as airy as he is but that’s ok ha

Tim you so cute apologizing and saying why he tried to protect her. Needing to defend why he did as such. That, if they were going to go down, should be him, since it was his idea after all. Lucy is much kinder outside of Grey’s office though. Saying she said yes to the whole thing. So it's just as much on her as it is him.

Do adore her jumping right back into it with wanting to finish this out. That they still have time. This way they can check each others methods. Lucy continuing the work flirt of their's. I am down. The smiles on these goobers I cannot. Lucy’s face when he walks away. My goodness you still love that man. *happy sigh * I love these idiots.

Rachel out of nowhere. Oh my lord. Do love these recalls to previous season's we're getting this year I have to say. Characters and all. Seems like they’ve kept in touch. First thing I thought was wondering about that. I had questions running through my head at her return. Like she must know Lucy dated Tim? Does she know how madly in love she was with him? (and still is...)

Sucks N.Y. chewed her up and spit her back out. Man it’s a trip to see her. From another life. Truly. S2 feels like it was eons ago. They were much different people back then. When Rachel said she hadn't contacted Lucy in 6 months....Knew that meant she didn't know of the emotional horror our girl went through.

Thus begins the digging up of wounds that have yet to heal. Detective exam and Tim..... Oooh boy. The two pillars that nearly broke her. Kinda glad for her asking about it in a way. I wanna see where Lucy truly is emotionally right now. Been having a feeling it's not great under the surface.

The fact Lucy is now trauma dumping shows she isn’t ok. Which of course she isn’t. She had a trio of trauma last season. Between detective, Tim and Tamara. The way Lucy says Tim broke up with her…. Ugh my heart. A wound that hasn’t healed for this fandom either. It's not going till until this is hashed out and reconciled.

‘Screw him. He’s an idiot right?’ *sigh* I mean a good response for Rachel though. It's what you say to a friend going through that. ‘It’s all for the best…’ Is it though? Oh my girl still wanna hug you and make you better. That has not gone away since 6x07.

Tim comes up not expecting his past to be standing there. He pulls out the Sanford Smile we haven't seen in awhile lol The one where he's clearly uncomfortable and his smile isn't reaching his eyes. You can tell he is confused and slightly unsettled. I mean they didn't end on the best terms after she started her life in N.Y. Now here she is in the station next to his girl. What a trip for him.

‘She ghosted me.' 'Yeah that’s her thing…’ We never did see what happened there. She was all in for long distance then she was gone just like that. Tim did a good job pretending he was happy to see her. The Oscar goes to you my love.

Poor Ridley is shaking in his boots. On edge waiting for a 'Tim test.' But he was prepped by Lucy in a way Tim wasn't expecting. Seth has his 'I’ve been shot answer.' right away. Too quickly really. Tim is sus af. Grilling him if Lucy warned him? It does explain why he was looking out the windshield as they were driving LOL Tim asking what else she told him?

Oh my word she recited chunks of her trauma training to Seth. Majority of her s1 ones at that. Except for the flour bomb. I’m dying. These call backs to s1-s2 are making me giddy to no end I have to say. She really dug in their archive to tell him about Wrigley. I'm laughing so hard. Tim is shaking his head so hard and I’m cackling. Playing dirty Lucy….’Ok I just have to get more inventive.’ He is not pleased LMAO Legit undermined him.

Texas instantly putting his foot in his mouth with Lucy. I was wondering if he thought be easier with Lucy. Or he thought he could charm his way into her being lenient. But he has never met Lucy Chen....Learns quickly how much that was not going to fly with her. I love Lucy putting him in his place immediately about 'darlin.’ That isn't going to stand for even a second with her. She makes sure he knows that.

The banter is PRIMO when Tim arrives. We get to see protective Tim arrive on scene again with Miles. I love it. Lucy doesn’t stop him this time. Knowing Texas needs it from both barrels if it's going to stick with him. But mainly I just love Tim immediately not having it with that shit for her. Any bravado remaining is squashed by Tim calling Penn 'Darlin' hehe

This is a mini moment that made very happy. You defend her Tim! Immediately protected his girl from Grey’s clutches about the rookies not listening. Gimme. I'll take this all damn day. That innate reaction to protect her is deeply ingrained in this man. I love it so much I could cry. Lucy once again not stopping him. Appreciative he has her back in this moment. The little things is how we inch our way back.

Poor Lucy so worried this will be another black mark against her career. Regardless of who won this is a loss for them. Adore Tim being positive with her. Saying as long as they don’t fire them, they have a chance to turn them around. Make them into good cops if given that chance. Love this. Look at Tim being the positive one. Only for his girl. Lucy looking to him for answers makes me happy. Asking what their chances really are? ‘Slim to none….’ Heh helpful babe real helpful.

It is nice to see Lucy catch up with Rachel. This is an ally we forgot she had. One that was far away in N.Y. So it's nice they get to reconnect. Not only that but be very mature about it. Especially about Tim. Celina getting a history lesson on the side is a hilarious bonus. lmao Frigging adored Rachel's 'Well yeah.' Like of course we would be friends still. Emotional maturity. Love to see it.

I love love love Rachel seeing Tim and Lucy were the better match. Rather than her and Tim. Doesn't even hesitate to bring that up in their convo. I said it many times in my s2 reviews. Forever grateful for the path she set Tim on. She was his first post divorce relationship. A Lucy 2.0 to get him ready for his soulmate.

Rachel is the fandom when she makes her comment about their break up. Trust me Rachel none of us expected the emotional devastation that was last year….it’s been 9 months and I’m still not over it tbh. Idk I'll be over it until they have reconciled. It's the gut punch none of us have really recovered from.

Lucy just breaking my heart all over again. Saying she made all these moves for them to be together. Only for it to blow up in her face. *sad sigh* You sure did.... Our boy has A LOT to make up for. That it taught her to just focus on her career. I mean I truly hoping that is the case this season for her. That we can some true clarity for her career. Nothing I want more (other than a reunion.) ‘No more messy station romances.' Sure sure mmhmm....

Those boys are LUCKY. They are trending online in a positive way or their asses would be grass. The defiance cannot be overlooked. I love Tim/Lucy standing next to each other as they back Grey. The little things I love so much. Forever in awe of insane amount of physical chemistry they have just standing next to one another.

The lack of personal space never a thing with them. It makes me happy to see it. Post 6x06 the physical distance could be FELT between them in every scene till 6x09. Felt like the Grand Canyon for awhile. So this is so nice to behold. Once again the little things that make me so happy. We're on the slow road to healing.

I wanna get into this scene and what it represents to me. I did always wonder what happened between them. After 2x20 she just fell off never to be heard from again. So this was nice to get. Tim can claim he didn't need closure but he did. This scene is an olive branch from Rachel to Tim. Just like when Isabel came back in 5x20. The return meant to be a healing one. Nothing more. Took guts for her to do this. If she wants back in Lucy's life Tim comes with that. Breakup or not. She knows this. Best to smooth this over before she can rebuild her life.

Do I find Rachel a threat? No. No I don't. Why you ask? Because this isn't 13th grade. These are grown ass adults. This isn't a H.S. or Teen drama. Just because she came back doesn't mean trouble for Chenford. Hell the woman even said Lucy was the better fit for him. One of the biggest complaints I saw last season was Lucy's support system. Someone who was in it has returned. This is a wonderful thing for Lucy. A win she so deserves. I just wanted to be the voice of reason in case anyone the fandom was worried with this scene.

That man could not be more in love with Lucy Chen if he tried. And vice versa. He is kind and courteous with Rachel. To me, mainly because post-therapy, Tim can see when someone is trying to make amends. Hell it's what he's trying to achieve everyday with Lucy. Also like to note it's not his mega watt Lucy smile. That is reserved only for his girl. But it is a 'second chance' smile. Like Lucy stated earlier in the ep. A second chance is a clean slate. This is just that if she is going to be in Lucy's life again. I'll be intrigued if she makes another appearance or not. We shall see. Every ep we are one step closer to them healing some more. I cannot wait to see what 7x04 brings.

As always. Thank you to the amazing readers I have. Your likes, comments and reblogs mean everything to me. Truly comment away I love it. As long as its respectful I adore chatting about this season as we go along. Shall see you all next week :)

~~~~

Side notes

Tim being the cold open. And breaking through Nolan's security system. I cackled so hard. Then is a sexy beast leaning against his bookcase. Pops a soda. Never wanted to be a can so much before.... ‘That’ll owe you two more Lakers tickets.’ LOL I love this man.

Poor Wes is gonna implode. Every time he hears that detectives name he shudders. Losing it a little more each time.

With the ladies saying let nature take its course with Jason. HA I'm with them. But of course Nolan being a boring boy scout won’t do it that way.

Anyone else think it’s weird Nolan doesn’t wear his wedding ring? I would hate if Tim didn’t wear his after their wedding.

Also going without backup after this guy. Like this man hasn’t learned at all from his mistakes. Do you not remember s2 you dope? Balian's reunion was as lackluster as they are. Welcome back Bailey. I did not miss you madam sorry ha

[scarlethexelove]

I Did

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2261

Warnings: Mentions of torture, scars, mean tony. Nothing much else.

A/n: I want to give credit to Dolls.mcu.editz on tiktok where I saw the edit that gave me this idea. So after asking for a poll of who this should be with I made this. Starts a bit angsty but it is super fluffy at the end. Soft Natasha and Wanda 🥰 Hope you all enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You sit in the meeting room surrounded by all of the Avengers. On either side of you are Natasha and Wanda, your girlfriends. The conversation that is happening is making you uncomfortable to say the least. They are all talking about what is to be done if one of you is captured and possibly tortured by hydra or another entity. What would be protocols and procedures that need to be followed during and after the event. You’re quiet throughout and don’t add anything. Tony notices this and doesn’t appreciate that you are not contributing to the conversation. 

“Y/n do you have anything to add?” Tony questions a bit of malice in his words. “I would rather not.” You reply, sinking more into your seat. Wanda placing a hand on your thigh in comfort. “You always have something to add so why don’t you actually contribute to the discussion.” He pushes. You scoff and look him dead in the eye. “You would not hold up well under torture.” You calmly spoke back to him. “Oh and you would?” He raises his voice. “I did!” You just about yell back to him. 

Tony pauses a moment. Tears shine in your eyes as memories flash in your mind reminding you how you even got here. You don’t notice the sad looks around you from your fellow avengers. “Y/n I didn’t mean-” Tony is cut off by you. “Save it.” You mumble as you push your seat back and quickly make your way out of the room. Your ears ringing with the memories of your life before. You can’t even hear that people are calling after you. 

Tears start to stream down your face as you quickly keep walking. You feel a burning sensation in your skin as you become overwhelmed. The scars that scatter your body make it feel as if they are open wounds again. The pain and memories still flood in as your body moves on autopilot back to your room. 

Natasha and Wanda quickly rise and try to start following you. “Where do you think you are going? We aren’t done with setting these protocols.” Tony quickly jumps back in as your girlfriends try to go after you. Both of them turn around specks of red swirling in Wanda’s eyes as Natasha clenches her fist. “We are going to see if our girlfriend is ok. I don’t really care what you have to say right now.” Natasha spits back her anger with the man clear to everyone in the room. 

“You can check on her later. We need to get these set.” Tony still protests. Natasha slams her hands on the table, a small crack forming where her hands hit the glass table. “Listen here tin man you insulted our girlfriend. I don’t care what you decide, we are going to comfort her.” The room is tense as there is a staring contest between the two. “Well she started it.” He comes back still trying to defend himself when everyone in the room believes him to be in the wrong. 

Wanda tilts her head and red swirls in her hand. “Tony, you have no clue what she has been through. You may have been captured and held but you were never tortured. Natasha was raised and trained as an assassin against her will. Bucky was taken and experimented on as they constantly brainwashed him. I was experimented on and locked in a cell.” Wanda seethes, pointing towards the living quarters. “But she was experimented on, locked in rooms, tortured for days on end. Cut up just for fun, you have no fucking clue. So if you will excuse me we are leaving and you can fuck off.” Wanda grabs Natasha’s hand and they walk out of the room. Everyone in the room is left in show of the revelation. The only other person who is not shocked is Bucky, your best friend.

The two hear arguing ensue as they walk away towards your shared bedroom. They lightly knock on the door to not scare you but they hear no movement so they slowly open the door. They slowly enter the room but don’t see you but they see the bathroom door open. Light shines out and the sound of water pelting the tile floor is heard. “Detka.” Wanda calls out for you as they make their way into the bathroom but hear no response. 

Wanda and Natasha enter the bathroom, their eyes landing on your form sitting in the shower, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. You're still in your clothes and shoes as the water beats down on you. Natasha quickly moves to you going around you to your right side crocheting down as the water hits her. Wanda moving to your left side. They give each other a look and look back to you. You’re staring off into space, your body slightly rocking. Both women know that sometimes in stressful times your mind plays back what happened to you. Not just your mind but your body has a physical reaction. 

“Detka can I touch you?” Natasha asks. You don’t respond. She slowly reaches out for you and gently touches your arm. You jump lightly to the contact and she pulls back, but then you give a small nod for her to continue. She reaches out again and places her hand on your back gently rubbing comforting circles. “Detka may I?” Wanda asks and you also give her a nod. She smiles and follows Natasha’s lead. 

“What can we do to help sweetheart?” Wanda asks you. You finally look over to her and she can see past the water that trails down your face that you are crying, your eyes red and puffy. You open your mouth trying to speak but nothing comes out. Your eyes telling Wanda what you want her to do. “Are you sure detka?” She questions before proceeding. You lightly nod at her. She smiles. “Okay.”

Her hand goes to your head as red fills her eyes and red whisps come from her fingers. She lets what words you can’t say fill her mind before pulling her hand back, her eyes turning back to their beautiful shade of green. She gives you a soft smile and small nod. She then looks up to Natasha who is watching the interaction. 

“Her scars are burning and her clothes are overwhelming.” Natasha nods at Wanda’s words. They both work together taking off your shirt as you raise your arms. Natasha then moves in front of you. She takes off your shoes and socks, tossing them into the bathroom to deal with later. Wanda has removed your undershirt and bra tossing it with the rest. Working together again they work to remove your pants and underwear. You lift your hips to make it slightly easier on them. 

Wanda gently runs her hand down your arm. “Do you want me to try and help?” She gently asks you. “Please.” You mumble lightly. She kisses your head. “Of course. Which ones hurt?” She asks you. “Big ones.” You tell her. She knows which ones you mean. Her hand going to your left side the scar runs from just under your breast down to your mid thigh. Red comes from her fingers as it seeps down into the scar. The burn slowly fades as you feel her magic calming the nerves. Her hand moves to your right shoulder covered in a large burn scar repeating her action. She then moves to your left thigh a large circular scar doing as she has done with the other two. Your nerves calming as the burning and pain disappear. “Better?” She asks you.

You give her a nod. “Thank you.” You tell her finally, letting your body relax as you lean into Natasha. Her arms wrap around you. “No need to thank me detka.” Wanda leans in kissing your forehead. 

“Do you want to get cleaned up in the shower and get in bed?” Natasha asks you. “Mhmm.” Your reply comes in a hum. So that is what you all do. They help you up before they take off their clothes. Throwing them into the pile already on the floor. Gently washing your body and hair. 

You love the close moments with your girlfriends. Nothing sexual about it, it is just full of love and caring as they take care of you. They quickly clean themselves before helping you out of the shower. Since you have already been sensitive and overwhelmed Wanda uses her magic to dry you three off. The feeling of her warm magic eloping you and calming your nerves even more. 

Natasha picks you up. Your legs wrap around her waist and you bury your head in her neck as she carries you to bed. “My strong and tough super soldier.” Natasha chuckles as you whine into her neck. Which just causes her to chuckle more and you to poke at her side. “Heyyy.” She says. Wanda giggling at your two antics. 

 Wanda walks around to the other side getting into the bed. She moves the covers and opens her arms as Natasha places you into Wanda’s open arms. You instantly wrap around her and lay your head on your chest. Natasha crawls into the bed behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and cuddling into your back. She places small light kisses on your shoulder causing you to smile. Wanda then peppering your face with kisses which then causes you to giggle. 

“There is my sweet girl.” Wanda smiles down at you as you nuzzle into her chest. The room becomes silent as you relax into your girlfriends. The skin to skin contact is doing wonders for you. Letting you feel a closeness that you wouldn’t get with clothes on. 

Natasha kisses your shoulder again. “Marry me?” Natasha breaks the silence in the room. You look up to Wanda before turning to look at Natasha. Not sure if this is just in the heat of the moment or a true proposal. Natasha smiles before letting go of your turn and reaching into the drawer of her bedside table. She pulls out two small velvet boxes. “Wanda Maximoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you two do me the honor of becoming my wifes?” Natasha asks opening the boxes to show off two gorgeous rings. Each of them is set in silver with a beautiful garnet as the center stone and surrounded by smaller black diamonds. You can’t help but cry in happiness as you and Wanda answer in unison. “Yes!”

The three of you are now crying, happy to be taking a step forward in your relationship. “I was planning to do some crazy romantic gesture for you two but this moment just seemed too perfect to pass. I wanted you two to know how much I love you and that I would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.” Natasha says through happy tears as you and Wanda cry harder. She places the rings on your fingers. 

You kiss Natasha hard and filled with love before pulling back and kissing Wanda. Wanda then leans over you and gives Natasha a kiss. Wanda then chuckles and shakes her head a bit. “What?” Natasha asks. Wanda says nothing as she gets up and walks towards the dresser and opens her sock drawer. You whine when her body heat leaves you. “I’ll be right back detka.” Wanda chuckles. 

You can’t see what she grabs as she turns and hides what she has behind her back. She walks back to the bed and climbs back in next to you. “Great minds think alike I guess.” Wanda says, pulling two more velvet boxes from behind her back. She opens them revealing similar rings that have a ruby at its center and diamonds surrounding it.  

Natasha behind you chuckles. “I guess so.” She says. “So Natasha Romanoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you marry me?” Wanda asks. You and Natasha laugh before saying yes to her. Wanda places one ring on Natasha’s finger the other she holds out for you not exactly knowing what to do with it since you have one on already. “I can wear both.” You proudly say before putting it above the other one. “Y/n/n that isn’t going to work.” Natasha laughs at your antics. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” Wanda gets back up and goes over to her jewelry box. You hear her digging through before pulling something out. She walks back to you and holds out her hand. You place the ring in her hand. She then reveals a necklace. She puts the ring on the necklace before motioning for you to turn. You turn around and Wanda secures the chain holding the ring around your neck. You smiled, placing your hand on the ring before turning back and kissing her again. 

As the excitement wears down a bit you three settle back into the bed relaxing. “I love you both so much and can’t wait to be your wife and for you two to be mine.” You say snuggled between the woman. “We love you too.” Both women say at the same time and kiss each of your cheeks. 

This day turned from a horrible day of overwhelming panic and pain into one of the best days of your life and you couldn’t be more happy than to be alive in this moment. Holding onto the loving memory forever and excited for what your future will hold.

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 12/?

Prev | Next

This is a slower chapter, but it had to be written before the fun begins. Anyway, I hope you still like!

“Who are you,” Bruce growled. There was no way this was Alfred. He had almost been tricked by the Devil Nezha once before; he wouldn’t be fooled this time, either.

‘Alfred’ raised his eyebrow in a way the real Alfred would. It had Bruce’s heart grieving.

“Did you think death could fire me, Master Bruce?”

Bruce glowered at the…apparition.

“You’re not Alfred. Alfred is dead. Someone has already tried tricking me before using his visage. I won’t be tricked this time, either.”

“Master Bruce, you’re in a town where ghosts attack frequently, and you doubt I could manifest after spending time here?”

“Alfred is dead,” he repeated.

“I never claimed to be alive.”

Bruce said nothing and stared out the window. The apparition was still driving and heading in the right direction.

Alfred sighed and rattled off a string of numbers and letters. Bruce felt his hope and heartbeat pick up. No one but Alfred knew that code. It had never been written down, and they had come up with it when Bruce was a child.

“Alfie,” he asked, “are you really here?”

“Who said I left? I couldn’t leave my boy and his children behind.”

Bruce felt his eyes prickle with unshed tears. The man who was like a father was back again. Bruce knew he should be more cautious, but he knew deep down that this was Alfred.

“Alfred, I have no idea what to do,” Bruce couldn’t help but put his problems at Alfred’s feet again. It wasn’t fair to do that to the older man, but Bruce couldn’t help but fall on old habits.

The car stopped.

“Why don’t you start by talking with Master Danny and his parents? That had always been your problem, Bruce. You keep everything inside. Let others help you, and don’t be afraid to speak your worries and emotions. Your son has been through a lot. Tell him you’ll be there for him, but don’t force things. He’s not Damian. He’s his own person.”

Bruce looked out the window and saw the monstrosity that was the Fenton’s home. He turned to look at the driver’s seat, but Alfred was gone. Even so, Bruce felt the older man’s presence.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“It’s my pleasure, Master Bruce.”

____

Maddie ignored the knock on the door; she was too busy running her hand through her precious boy’s hair.

Danny was still unconscious but breathing.

Maddie had texted Jazz to come home ASAP.  

Jazz, who always defended Phantom. Jazz who had ripped Maddie and Jack new ones for hurting ghosts, especially Phantom. Jazz, who had to have known.

How could Maddie not have known? What kind of mother was she?

Bruce Wayne entered the living room. Bruce Wayne who wanted to take her child away; Bruce Wayne who had to have known about Danny, too. Did everyone but them knew? Maddie tightened her hold on Danny. She would fight anyone for her children. She wouldn’t let Wayne bully her into giving up her son.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fenton,” Wayne greeted them.

“You knew,” Jack’s usually boisterous voice was subdued. “You got here a few days ago, and you already knew. How?”

“Yes, I knew about Danny being Phantom. He told us the first day we got here.”

Maddie’s stomach dropped. Danny told virtual strangers about him…about his powers before he told his parents. Were they that bad?

Who was she kidding? Jack and she talked about destroying ghosts—‘molecule by molecule.’ Why wouldn’t Danny be scared to tell them anything?

“That’s not the whole truth, now is it, Mr. Wayne?”

Maddie looked up and saw Jazz watching them all with shrewd eyes.

“Danny didn’t tell you anything. He accidentally transformed in front of you guys after you lured him away from home.”

“What,” Maddie asked in a flat voice. Her hand went to one of her hidden weapons—her boo-staff. She would do anything to protect her children, and if that meant attacking the wealthiest man in the country, then she would do so. Consequences be damned. From her peripheral vision, Maddie saw Jack tense, ready to attack.

Dick and Damian went to stand by Wayne’s side, ready to fight. Seeing Damian, who looked so much like Danny, made both Fentons pause.

Wayne put his hands up, “Let’s all take a deep breath and calm down. I’m glad to answer all your questions as well as I can, but let’s not turn this into a fight.”

“Why did you lure my son out of his house,” Jack asked, angry, “I have to assume this was before you talked to us.”

Jazz ignored the tension between the two families and sat by Maddie. She then took out a needle containing green goo—ectoplasm—and poised it over Danny’s arm.

“This will help him heal quicker,” she whispered to Maddie. Maddie said nothing but gave a nod. Jazz injected the needle, and Danny’s wounds started to heal visually. The knot in Maddie’s chest started to unravel as she saw Danny’s wounds turn purple, then green, and then yellow before disappearing. He even stirred a little.

“That’s my fault,” Damian said, bringing Maddie back to the present, “I came to Danyal and asked him to follow me so he could meet father and our siblings. I was…eager to reunite with my brother. I didn’t think about the consequences.”

Dick put an arm around Damian. Maddie suspected it was for more than just moral support.

Maddie frowned and looked at Wayne.

“And you just allowed it? You didn’t think it would be better to stop your son and call us the next day?”

Wayne gave a nod of acknowledgment.

“I apologize, you are right. I should’ve stopped Damian and come to you two directly. I was too eager to meet my son after finding out about him, I didn’t think.”

“Do you still plan on taking Danny away from us,” Jack asked.

“That wasn’t ever the plan,” Wayne said.

“But,” Damian started. He stopped when Wayne gave him a look, “Tt.”

“I wanted to prove Danny was mine by blood and hopefully get to know each other. I never intended to rip you away from your son. I wanted to get to know him and build a connection.”

Maddie and Jack looked at each other.

“Sit,” Jack said before walking toward his family, “I think it’s time we cleared the air.

Wayne and his children sat on the other couch. The two families looked at each other, unsure of where to start.

Maddie cleared her throat.

“I know you discovered Danny was Phantom before us, but why aren’t you more shocked? I would’ve thought you finding out that your son was a superhero would’ve been a way for you to take him away from us.”

“Mrs. Fenton, I’m from Gotham. I’ve been saved by vigilante children before; superhero children is not such a farfetched idea to me.”

“Still, child superheroes are one thing. Your son being one is another.”

“You probably know I fund the Justice League; it’s an open secret. Superheroes aren’t a new thing for me.”

Maddie felt her anger rise. She was trying to have a polite conversation with the man, but he deflected and did not give her a straight answer. Jack frowned and crossed his arms.

“Mr. Wayne, we can be a bit dense sometimes, but this is not how a parent would react to their child being a hero. Stop making excuses about superhero children and funding the Justice League and tell us the truth,” Maddie demanded.

Dick and Damian looked at Wayne. Wayne kept his face blank, but Maddie knew it was a façade. The two families were in a stalemate, unsure how to continue.

Suddenly, Jazz sighed and got up.

“This is ridiculous. We won’t get anywhere if we don’t talk this out, but we also have to think about Danny. Mom, dad, let’s let Danny wake up first so he can participate in the conversation. Mr. Wayne, Dick, Damian, why don’t we go to the kitchen, and I’ll make you a cup of coffee or tea.”

“Jazz,” Jack started.

She put up her hand, “Don’t worry. Stay here and process what you just found out. Be there for Danny when he wakes up and I’ll take care of our guests. Besides, we really shouldn’t have this talk without Danny.”

Maddie gave a weak smile, “Jazz, my ever-sensible girl. Fine, we’ll be here if you need anything.”

Jazz smiled, “I know.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and soon, the Waynes followed her. Jack sat by Maddie and held her hand.

They would wait for their baby boy to wake up, then…then…well, then they would figure it out.

[brittle-doughie]

Cookie Flipside: Light Cream Cookie

Was inspired off of a branched idea from this ask as well as this comic that features a more sour Light Cream if you want a mental image of how it would look like.

Essentially Light Cream Cookie, in a bid of hopefully bringing House Scone back from the brink, goes along with Elder Custard’s method of education and training Clotted Cream Cookie.

His success had gotten to her head, acting professional and cold around Clotted Cream, believing that logic mattered more then feelings.

Unfortunately, this was your son and this was something that YOU had problems with, wanting Light Cream to be there for Clotted during his times of need and not treat him as a tool to maintain her House’s reputation. She didn’t want to listen, thinking she wasn’t doing anything wrong. And you were her spouse! Aren’t you supposed to be her biggest defender and supporter of her dreams?! Some partner you were….

“You can’t keep doing this to him! You need to stop acting like a stranger to your own son! He needs his mother to be there for him!”

“I’m doing this for his own good, you know House Custard is already pouring a lot of coins to make him the best that he can be!”

“For his own good?! I refuse to believe that you are doing this just for our boy. House Scone being brought back from the brink surely has nothing to do with this decision.”

“So what! Do you want to see my family fall and be forgotten?! To end up like House Abalone, is that what you wanted? Do our vows mean nothing to you? If you don’t like what I’m doing for everyone’s sake, then you’re free to leave…

“…Fine.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving, Light Cream Cookie. It’s over between us.”

You left the Creme Republic since that day, never looking back. It pained you dearly to never say goodbye to Clotted Cream Cookie face to face, but knowing what you just pulled, you wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere near him….

Until years later, where Custard Cookie III gave you a letter…

“It has been some time since you were last here in the republic, Y/N Cookie. It would be pleasant if you could visit to come see how much progress Clotted Cream Cookie has made since you last saw him. He is most eager to see you once more after all this time and he isn’t alone. Your..ex-wife, Light Cream Cookie, has also been requesting that I send you this letter. She wants to apologize for her foolish behavior and hopefully make amends with you. You are under no obligation to come, but it would please the two if you did. Sincerest regards, Elder Custard Cookie of House Custard.”

“Are we going, Y/N Cookie?”

“N-no, Custard III. You don’t need to worry about this at least until your coronation….it’s a long story…”

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

---------------------------------------------------

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

---------------------------------------------------

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”