#the last line of the article is a beautiful one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrollohearttags · 2 months ago

Text

silk dreams, satin fantasies • e. jaeger

it’s your roommate’s special day and he’s requested only one gift: to unwrap his favorite ‘present’ as many times as he desires and you look forward to granting every last one of his wishes

📝: black fem!reader, roommate!eren, more free use + pure, utter filth (PWOP bc I don’t have the time tbh), breeding, lots of dirty talk, face fucking, squirting, bondage, pet play themes, collar + leash, heavy sub/dom, rough sex, spit play, so many themes, I’d be here all day

wc: 2.2K

🎙️: idk when (or if) y’all will see this but happiest of birthdays to my fav crash out and the only aries man I’ll ever love. my (second BD) eren! I miss writing regularly, specifically for him and feel like I’m losing my touch (school has truly defeated me) but I hope y’all enjoy it nonetheless.

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°

March 30th. A date that seemed synonymous with being a holiday…it was certainly a joyous occasion for one man. Who’d not only get to celebrate another orbit around the sun and the privilege of getting to see another year, but who would do so alongside someone he cherished dearly. 24 full hours filled with nothing but things that would bring him immense happiness and nothing would elicit that quite like having you around to help him enjoy his birthday..in more ways than one!..

“Mmmmph!—oh fuck…’m so deep in your fucking throat, baby and you’re not even gagging. What the hell..

a deep, groggy tone and nasally whimpers filled the desolate bedroom. An area that once was only utilized for sleeping because the right girl hadn’t come along in some time was now the platform for all of Eren’s filthy, depraved inner thoughts. All of which he planned to enact with (y/n), his pretty little roommate throughout the course and duration of the day. You were the most ideal gift a man could ask for..that cunt twitching at the sound of his praise and that puckering asshole suctioned around the metal plug stuffed inside of it. Courtesy of him coming into your room earlier this morning and shoving it in. Along with the first of many loads of warm seed he had poured inside of you today. It was something he did very often..sneaking into your bed to have his way with you as you remained in blissfully unaware slumber. There were times that you’d wake up to the sensation of his cum spilling out of you or wetness splattering your thighs because he’d fingered you in your sleep and those juices subconsciously spilled out. It seemed rather creepy and odd to do such a thing but you absolutely loved it! That much apparent by all of the salacious posts on your accounts all but begging him to.

hence why you were seated on your knees, thighs clenched together to avoid pathetically rutting yourself against his shoe and those big brown doe eyes fixated up at him. (Y/N) had been sporting a pink silk apron with not a single article of clothing underneath with the exception of thigh high socks; the color meshing beautifully with that decadent brown skin..luscious as ever. Long black hair flowing across your shoulders with a bang cascading over your forehead. Around your throat was a pink collar with a thin iridescent chain that was currently clenched around his tattooed knuckles to maneuver you as he saw fit. Satin lined ties binding your wrists in front of you so that he maintained full control. Looking so innocuous yet your head was filled with tons of equally disgusting thoughts. It was a fantasy he’d often dreamt about; watching a beautiful girl be domesticated just for him. Willing to cater to his every whim while looking absolutely stunning doing so. It was his birthday after all and you wanted to make it as special as possible. He did for you on the regular so it was only natural you return the favor. Even if it meant being fucked senseless on any surface at any given time, regardless of how exhausted you were! You’d been in the kitchen attempting to bake him a cake when he all but whisked you away and decided to take his treat early. Holding the end of that chain and making you crawl to him with that ass poking up in the air. He’d never seen something so sexy before in his entire life. If it wouldn’t have been such a damn shame, he would’ve combusted on the spot.

“Fuuuck..you’re doing so good, princess. Just like that..eat that fucking dick up f’r me. Oh my gosh..yes. You must want all of this cum, huh?”

seated on the bed before you, sporting nothing but black sweats that had been shuffled to his thighs with his legs spread far apart, Eren would gently tug that chain and buck his hips upward. Holding your head in place whilst meeting it with rough thrusts.

“Mmmph..fuck, of course you do. I’m just gonna keep fucking this pretty throat until I nut in it. You can take it..”

Peering over the rim of his glasses, Eren gazed down at you with full adoration..in complete awe of how you abandoned every ounce of your morals to please him. Needless to say, he was madly in love with you! He’d make good on his word when you’d feel that pulsating twitch and that same warm sensation gliding down from your jaws. Holding your head down and forcing you to swallow every drip of his seed. He’d begin to convulse and whimper, bucking his hips with a rough pace..spurting out strings of semen; even holding you in place to empty the remnants of his swollen balls into your mouth. He’d cry out, whimpering and moaning until his head would roll back onto his shoulders. For the moment, all he could do was laugh and be in awe of how amazing you were.

“Mmmm..shit. Lemme look at you..wanna see that pretty face covered.” That’s when he’d take his fingertip underneath your chin and hoist your face up. Only to be greeted by a beaming smile and those plump lips coated and smeared with precum and saliva. He’d mark your cheeks with a couple slaps before depressing your tongue using those digits and lobbying saliva into your mouth. Long strings and tiny speckles filled your tongue and you’d graciously beg for more.

“Harder, please.”

“Yeah? You like when I slap you, baby? Treat you like my little whore?..”

“Yes! Fuck..do it again.”

There was something insatiable about the both of you at the moment. The incessant urge to fuck his little toy and yours to get pounded into oblivion had reached its limit. Shoving those fingers in and out once more, he’d finally retract and replace it with his lips; pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

“C’mere..I gotta fuck you, like right now..” almost so desperate that it was adorable and funny. He’d hoist you by the restrained hands before placing you onto his mattress..pinning your legs back behind your head until you were folded. He’d grasp that chain tightly, kneeling down into the memory foam before tapping that juicy slit with the tip of his cock. It was aching and practically begging to feel your tight walls clenching around him.

“Pull my head down please..I love watching it slide in.” That sweet little voice of yours could sway him to commit murder if you desired it and without hesitation, he’d oblige. “Of course, gorgeous. Whatever you want.”

Taking that chain once more, he’d tug into you and have a perfect view of that shaft beginning to disappear between into that tight hole. Still a bit sensitive from that orgasm before, he’d make home inside of you before releasing a loud groan. You truly did bring out his worst. Leaning down, he’d clutch your throat and initiate another kiss before beginning to move. The sensation of that first thrust elicited a sharp gasp from you both simultaneously but staring into your eyes whilst getting to drill your shit was all the motivation he needed to push through.

“You’re so fucking tight..no wonder I can’t stop breeding you. Goddamn..”

(Y/N)’s breath would catch in your throat as those deep strokes slowly infiltrated your soft folds. The feeling was indescribable. That hard, thick cock stretching you open; swollen mushroom tip only inches away from your spot already and the result was silky cream pooling around his shaft. He wasn’t much in the way of being gentle today..he needed to break his pretty little slut! So much so, Eren had found himself with one foot planted on the bed in order to get deep as possible.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s the fucking spot. That pussy feels amazing…you’re creaming too..I love it.”

But he wasn’t the only one feeling the effects..as you were clawing at his abs with those bound wrists ringling around.

“You get me so fucking wet, I swear— ‘s so deep in me, gonna make me come..”

“You like when I dig you out, gorgeous? Look how you keep sucking me back in..”

“Yes daddy, I love it when you fuck this tight pussy.”

at that moment, drool would begin seeping down the corners of your mouth and that fucked out state would fall cast over your face; that tongue wagging and jolting. Your body jolted back and forth, meeting his thrusts..those veiny, inked hands groping your plump tits and ripping them out of the confines of that apron in a matter of seconds. He loved how soft and pillowy they looked bouncing around. He could remain in this like this forever with you and never grow tired. Fastening the grip on that chain, Eren would pull you closer once more and quicken his pace. He’d speed up and feed you deeper, much rougher strokes.

“And I love when you call me that…makes me wanna get your pretty ass pregnant. That’ll be the best present ever.”

letting out a soft cackle, he’d shove his fingers in your mouth..thrusting them in and out to pacify your loud moans. It was honestly such a beautiful sight..watching the subtle tears flow down your cheek and that smile stretch across your lips. He wanted this to be the memory imprinted in his mind when he thought back to his birthday. Seeing you happy, those sweet eyes staring back at him full of adoration and lust, not to mention getting the privilege of doing all of these salacious things with you.

“But first, I need you to come on this dick, baby..make that shit squirt for me.” In a subtle motion, he’d reach down to unfasten your rope, freeing your hands for the sole purpose of aiding him. Those rough strokes began to penetrate your spot to draw it forth. Meanwhile, he didn’t even need to instruct you on what to do next.

“There you go, rub that fucking clit, bitch. Get yourself there f’r me.” Fully aware of just how turned on being called out of your name got you. He certainly didn’t make a habit of it outside of sex but here, nothing was off limits and he knew that you’d do anything to please him. So much so, that you’d plead for more strings of saliva in between your jaws to slicken up that swollen bud. Your chest, still being groped by his palms, began to heave and you’d cry out his name as you felt that climax only seconds away from barreling out.

“Oh God! ‘m coming, daddy, fuck fuck!—“ in that moment, it was as if everything in the room faded to black and the world stopped moving momentarily. The only thing you could feel was a damp warmth forming underneath you as those streams of juices spilled all over the place. Shooting directly against his abs and so powerful, it sent that plug flying out of your other entrance.

“Aw, there you go, baby, I know. I know it feels amazing..you earned that nut, you’ve worked so hard for it.” Talking you through that insane orgasm as you struggled to come back to reality. Once you did however, you’d find yourself rewarded with a barrage of sloppy kisses. Whispering sweet nothings and ‘I love you’s’ through the sound of your soft cries, he'd wipe those tears from underneath your eyes and make certain that you were alright.

“Here, let’s take a break. Let me grab you some water.” Traipsing over to the nightstand as he struggled to capture his own breath. Retrieving the cool liquid, he’d tilt it back and let it flow into your mouth..swallowing the much needed source of hydration.

“Good girl, there you go. Just breathe for me..” that deep voice so stern yet comforting. It was no wonder you fell apart and would give anything to live in his skin!

“I-I’m sorry! I came so hard—“ but he was quick to denounce your apology. You’d done nothing but everything he’d asked today, even at the expense of his own bedsheets. Gently caressing yiur cheek, Eren would chuckle and reassure you that it was all fine. Because not only was this the best celebration he could’ve possibly asked for…

“..hey, it’s alright, princess. You’ve been incredible. Please don’t be sorry, I’m so proud of you right now. I love you so much. Thank you for making this birthday so special.”

but because little did you know…

“Besides, we’ve got plenty of time for you to rest. I’m just getting started..I haven’t even gotten the chance to do all of the nasty shit I want to. Just wait.”

there was a lot more in store!

940 notes · View notes

illnessfaker · 1 year ago

Text

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

#op #rest in power #black trans lives matter #death -#black death -#trans death -#didn't add a tw to the top of this post at first. sorry everyone.

1K notes · View notes

macrolit · 11 months ago

Text

The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century.

As voted on by 503 novelists, nonfiction writers, poets, critics and other book lovers — with a little help from the staff of The New York Times Book Review.

NYT Article.

*************

Q: How many of the 100 have you read? Q: Which ones did you love/hate? Q: What's missing?

Here's the full list.

100. Tree of Smoke, Denis Johnson 99. How to Be Both, Ali Smith 98. Bel Canto, Ann Patchett 97. Men We Reaped, Jesmyn Ward 96. Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments, Saidiya Hartman 95. Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel 94. On Beauty, Zadie Smith 93. Station Eleven, Emily St. John Mandel 92. The Days of Abandonment, Elena Ferrante 91. The Human Stain, Philip Roth 90. The Sympathizer, Viet Thanh Nguyen 89. The Return, Hisham Matar 88. The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis 87. Detransition, Baby, Torrey Peters 86. Frederick Douglass, David W. Blight 85. Pastoralia, George Saunders 84. The Emperor of All Maladies, Siddhartha Mukherjee 83. When We Cease to Understand the World, Benjamin Labutat 82. Hurricane Season, Fernanda Melchor 81. Pulphead, John Jeremiah Sullivan 80. The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante 79. A Manual for Cleaning Women, Lucia Berlin 78. Septology, Jon Fosse 77. An American Marriage, Tayari Jones 76. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin 75. Exit West, Mohsin Hamid 74. Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout 73. The Passage of Power, Robert Caro 72. Secondhand Time, Svetlana Alexievich 71. The Copenhagen Trilogy, Tove Ditlevsen 70. All Aunt Hagar's Children, Edward P. Jones 69. The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander 68. The Friend, Sigrid Nunez 67. Far From the Tree, Andrew Solomon 66. We the Animals, Justin Torres 65. The Plot Against America, Philip Roth 64. The Great Believers, Rebecca Makkai 63. Veronica, Mary Gaitskill 62. 10:04, Ben Lerner 61. Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver 60. Heavy, Kiese Laymon 59. Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides 58. Stay True, Hua Hsu 57. Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich 56. The Flamethrowers, Rachel Kushner 55. The Looming Tower, Lawrence Wright 54. Tenth of December, George Saunders 53. Runaway, Alice Munro 52. Train Dreams, Denis Johnson 51. Life After Life, Kate Atkinson 50. Trust, Hernan Diaz 49. The Vegetarian, Han Kang 48. Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi 47. A Mercy, Toni Morrison 46. The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt 45. The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson 44. The Fifth Season, N.K. Jemisin 43. Postwar, Tony Judt 42. A Brief History of Seven Killings, Marlon James 41. Small Things Like These, Claire Keegan 40. H Is for Hawk, Helen Macdonald 39. A Visit from the Goon Squad, Jennifer Egan 38. The Savage Detectives, Roberto Balano 37. The Years, Annie Ernaux 36. Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates 35. Fun Home, Alison Bechdel 34. Citizen, Claudia Rankine 33. Salvage the Bones, Jesmyn Ward 32. The Lines of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst 31. White Teeth, Zadie Smith 30. Sing, Unburied, Sing, Jesmyn Ward 29. The Last Samurai, Helen DeWitt 28. Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell 27. Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 26. Atonement, Ian McEwan 25. Random Family, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc 24. The Overstory, Richard Powers 23. Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage, Alice Munro 22. Behind the Beautiful Forevers, Katherine Boo 21. Evicted, Matthew Desmond 20. Erasure, Percival Everett 19. Say Nothing, Patrick Radden Keefe 18. Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders 17. The Sellout, Paul Beatty 16. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, Michael Chabon 15. Pachinko, Min Jin Lee 14. Outline, Rachel Cusk 13. The Road, Cormac McCarthy 12. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion 11. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz 10. Gilead, Marilynne Robinson 9. Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro 8. Austerlitz, W.G. Sebald 7. The Underground Railroad, Colson Whitehead 6. 2666, Roberto Bolano 5. The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen 4. The Known World, Edward P. Jones 3. Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel 2. The Warmth of Other Suns, Isabel Wilkerson 1. My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante

#new york times #best books #top 100 #books #21st century #contemporary #list

872 notes · View notes

hayatoseyepatch · 9 months ago

Text

𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: Missing you, your boyfriend hated being apart from you. So what happens when he can finally get his hands on you once more?

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: Gen Narumi & Soshiro Hoshina

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘: Gen Narumi & Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Reader (seperate). (SMUT). 𝖈𝖜: oral (female receiving), minor impact play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, taking photos, oral (male receiving), marking, mentions of breeding.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Two fics in one week? From me? Unheard of. Listen if this isn't proof of how much Kaiju No. 8 has consumed me I don't know what is honestly. I'm still messing around with writing for them and getting a sense of their personalities so please be kind to me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Seeing the way you were laid beneath him blurred his mind in a cloud of lust and need. He justified his upcoming actions under false pretenses of you needing a "punishment” from earlier, when in all reality it was his own selfish need to taste you, unable to remember the last time he spent an extended period of time between your soft thighs. So rather than fulfilling your request of filling you with his cock he begins the long and tortuous process of trailing kisses down your frame, grinning against your skin as he feels your body arch into his touch, finally ending his slow descent by tugging the waistband of your panties back with his teeth, shivering in anticipation at the sound of the elastic snapping against your skin. Having enough of his own teasing he leans back groaning upon seeing the drenched material of your panties. “Holy shit babygirl, look at you, you're fucking soaked. And it's all for me, I can't wait to taste you, doll.”

He impatiently gripped the fabric of your drenched panties, tugging it off of your frame in one swift motion. Quick to pocket the article of clothing for later use, before laying flat on his front, settling himself between your legs, hooking a thumb in a fold pulling the skin to the side to expose you fully to his prying eyes. “Jesus, doll, god you're so fucking beautiful, I can't fucking stand it. Gotta commit this shit to memory.” His voice has a gravel, need consuming the octave in which his words are spoken.

He removes his phone from his pocket sliding up to access the camera to snap a photo of your exposed heat, making a mental note to use that the next time he was missing you on a mission, or maybe even send it to a certain vice-captain as a reminder of what he would never be able to get his hands on. Finally, needing to taste you before he drives himself insane, he dives down licking a fat stripe up your center.

Narumi lets his tongue circle your clit, alternating between flattening his tongue and applying just the right amount of pressure to caress the hardened nub, feeling himself getting drunk on the taste of you. “Ge-“ Any words you would try and formulate die on your tongue, getting cut off by his actions, hand flying to his hair to grip at it for leverage. A loud whimper left your lips, a near scream of his name close to follow. “Gen, please, I need you! Please, I love your mouth, but I really want you, I need you so badly.. feel so empty, haven't felt full since last time..”

Your words come out desperate, senseless pleas for him to do something, anything, to qualm the empty feeling of your cunt as it clenched around nothing. Knowing just what to say to push him over the edge and have him give you just what you were craving. Gripping the back of his hair, tugging him away from your cunt enough so you could look at him between your thighs. Eyes clouded with lust as you look into his own, their vermillion barely recognizable, his pupils blown so wide with lust. Your words are purred into the air, knowing that by the end of your sentence, you would have him hook, line, and sinker.

“I really need you to fill me up, Gen. Put a baby inside of me, I need you please, Gen.” You maintained eye contact looking at him between your plump thighs, hearing the groan that bubbled up from his throat in response to your words. For as good as he looked there, the tears that lined your lashline only enforced the need behind your words, the very same need that caused the mess between your legs in the first place. Narumi feels himself being pulled out of his haze only when your words sink in. He debates filling you with his fingers, desperate to get more of a taste of your sweet cunt, but Narumi was nothing if not willing to appease your needs. He could not deny his own needs any longer, the fabric of his pants and the plush of the mattress beneath him doing nothing to qualm his need like burying himself inside you would. Though what really sent him into a frenzy, was one phrase in particular, you always knew just what to say to drive him insane.

“Yeah, doll? Need me to fill that slutty cunt baby? Want me to fold you in half and breed you, princess? Do you want me to really make you a mommy, huh baby? Well, how could I possibly say no?” He smirks, parting from his position between your legs, leaning back on the heels of his feet before ripping down the zipper of his pants. With expert fingers, he was quick to free his aching cock from the confined of his pants, parting your legs further as he gazes at your exposed figure beneath him. Unable to help himself, he lands a harsh slap against your cunt. His grin was feral, your slick glistening against his chin. His hand soon finds a home against your throat, the other gripping the base of his cock lining it up with your entrance. “Tell me, doll, before I ruin you. Who's perfect pussy is this, hm?”

Hoshina never fared well when you both were apart. That proof was evident in the way he was on you the moment you returned to base. The mission your platoon had been dispatched on just so happened to be in his brother’s sector, fueling his need to claim you once more. His lips were all over your skin, sharp canines marking your neck, the darkened skin being his solace the insatiable need to have physical evidence that you belonged to him consuming him. He was always like this when you had to be in the presence of his brother. Their rivalry surviving even after all of these years. Knowing that you decided he deserved a little assurance. This was the only true spot of insecurity, and you intended to let him know just how much he’d never have to worry when it came to you. Stepping forward, gently guided him backward until the backs of his knees came into contact with the edge of the bed, pushing his shoulders until he sat on the mattress.

Now that the both of you were separated from the intense kiss, both of your lips swollen from the intensity of the embrace, he was free to look up at you curiously. His hands flew to your waist, pulling you flush against him. One hand pushing up the fabric of your sleep shirt, exposing your bare top half to his hungry gaze. He was quick to reattach his lips to your skin, using the height difference from you standing between his legs to his advantage. His other hand gripping the soft plush of you ass, using his hold on you as leverage to pull you closer. His tongue lolling out of his mouth, he was quick to take a hardened bud between his lips. His tongue rolling against it, coming to a point to flick at the sensitive area before letting his teeth capture it. Pulling his head back to tug until releasing, pupils blows wide seeing the bounce of the plush flesh he was rewarded with. He was quick to give the other the same treatment. “So fucking beautiful, baby, and all fucking mine.”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting out a soft moan at the attention he was giving to your body. “Yes Shiro, I’m all yours baby.” Your voice is breathy from the pleasure you were receiving, head falling back as you relish in the feeling of his expert mouth. “Missed you so much baby.” You coo, hands coming to his shoulder to push him away a bit. He was confused for a moment, if you missed him why were you pushing him away? Before he could protest or chase your skin with his mouth, you capture his lips in a deep kiss, hand trailing down his body before finding purchase on his hardened cock through the fabric of his pants. Giving it a squeeze, Hoshina can’t help but buck his hips into your hand, his body reacting subconsciously. You pull from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips for just a moment before snapping. Looking into his hooded eyes, you let a grin slip its way onto your features.

Usually, Hoshina was always in control, working your body over and over again until the only word you could think to speak was his name. But not this time. This time you would be taking care of him. Dropping to your knees between his legs on the floor, your hands on his knees pushing his thighs apart. “let me show you just how much I missed you Shiro.” You coo, hands working dutifully on his pants, pulling his hard cock from its confines. His tip was already drooling with precum, the sight of it alone enough for your mouth to water. Ducking your head down you allow your tongue to collect his salty essence. “Fuck.” His hand flies to your hair, digits tangling in your locks. His word only fuels your actions. Steadying his cock with a hand at his base, your tongue circles his cockhead. Maintaining eye contact as you make out with his tip. “Fuck baby, please missed you too much, don’t tease.”

The plea in his voice was all it took for you to take his cock into your mouth. The groan that rumbles in his throat nearly muffles the sounds of your bobbing. Moving your head up and down on his length. Flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock, making sure to pay special attention to the vein that ran along his member. His fingers gripped the hair atop your head using it to guide your head up and down on his length, tears collecting at your lashline as the head of his cock kissed the back of your throat. “Fuck, kitten, so fucking good for me. That’s my girl taking my cock so fucking well, gonna make me cum baby, fuck.” He exclaims, throwing his head back in pleasure.

His hips bucking uncontrollably, effectively fucking your face. His hips begin to stutter, his vison going white as the coil in his stomach snaps. “Cumming, fuck kitten, fuck!” With only a few more bobs of your head, he fills your mouth with his seed, shuddering as he feels your throat contract as you swallow. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, coming down from his high. He spares a glance at you, seeing the way you let your tongue slide from your mouth, showing him your now empty mouth. His eyes darken, and before you could blink he swiftly grabs you, the world shifting as he swaps your positions. Your back hits the mattress, his larger form caging you in, lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss. His hips roll against your own, his cock already growing hard again. His next words are spoken between panted breaths against your lips. “That was quite the show, kitten. Now its my turn to show you just how much I missed my pretty little cunt, yeah?”

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics. Banners & writing by me. Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn.

604 notes · View notes

iamred-iamyellow · 1 month ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Triple Threat

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: spiderman!franco colapinto x fem!chemist!reader

♥ synopsis: Franco's been obsessed with you since high school. The only person who understood chemistry the way he did was you. But even before that, you were his muse and a muse like yourself like you had a hard time picking between your crush on Franco and your crush on Spiderman.

♥ wc: 1.6k - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, some vague canon-typical violence, and sexual tension !!!

♥ a/n: I NEED MORE PICTURES OF SPIDERMAN!! (franco colapinto)

Franco tapped his pen on a sheet of lined paper that was inconspicuously titled: Web Fluid 4.3.

Becoming a chemist major was the natural progression of his life and it only took three things to convince him. His reputation as a former salutatorian, pressure from his aunt, and the ability to swipe anything he needed from school labs.

Okay, it was mostly the last one.

“Salicylic acid, methanol…” he mumbled to himself as students filed out of the lecture hall.

His eyes shot up from the notes as he heard a ringing sound in his head.

You were standing at the foot of his desk, holding your textbooks, and ready to talk. His senses always went off around you.

“Hey,” he said, cutting you off before you even had a chance to speak.

His cheeks flushed and his head dropped with a soft laugh.

“Sorry,” he whispered to you with a smile.

You chuckled, “Beat me to it.”

Franco covered his notebook with his blue sweater engulfed arms in an attempt to shield the formulas he wrote down.

“Uhm,” he muttered, pushing his glasses back up his face. “Is there anything I can help you with?"

“Actually," you peered around the empty room and nodded. “Yeah, do you still do the photography thing? I know you took on the scientist route now, but if you still have your camera from high school I could use a favor.”

“Yeah, yes, of course, anything,” he stammered with a smile.

“I have a-“ you scratched your head and lightly laughed. “An article coming out soon for Oscorp and I need some pictures of myself.”

“If you’re free tonight I can…” he trailed off, hoping you’d jump in.

Your eyes lit up, “That’s perfect!” You grabbed your phone out of your pocket. “I’ll text you the location and we can meet up at 5?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Works for me.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said with relief, placing your hand on top of one of his before leaving the classroom.

He tilted his head back on the chair with a widened smile and a deep exhale. He basked in this moment, regardless of how short lived it was.

His phone buzzed with the promised notification:

You

OSCORP, BUENOS AIRES 📍

we've got a beautiful view on the roof

It's been way too long since the two of you were alone. Senior year, I think? You were close but... not that close. At least not anymore. Franco likes to exaggerate it. You're now more like friends by proximity.

He squinted as he looked into the barrel of his camera, a smile plastered on his face.

"A little to the left," he gestured with his hand as you scooted over.

"Here?" you asked, smoothing some wrinkles on your outfit that bunched up when you moved.

"Perfect," he confirmed, holding up the 'ok' symbol with his unoccupied hand.

He probably took about a hundred photos of you. I mean, he just couldn't stop. Every picture was better than the last.

The sun began to set and your skirt flew in the cool winter breeze as the shoot wrapped up.

"What's your hourly rate?" you asked, pulling your phone out of your skirt pocket.

"Oh, no," he waved you off. "No need to pay me."

You met his gaze, "Are you sure?"

He nodded with a chuckle, "I'm sure." He looked down at his camera, "Consider it a favor for an old friend."

He ran a hand through his brown curls before continuing.

"And uh...," he took his eyes off the photos to look up at you, squinting from the sun. "My place is only a few blocks away if you'd like to come by and see the final product?

You nodded frantically, "Yes, I'd love to."

A slow smile grew on his lips, "Perfect."

His bedroom is the same. Red striped sheets, miscellaneous books piled in crevices, a map of the city above his desk, and of course, the cork board with red strings pinned against a thousand pictures of his parents.

You don't ask.

He sat down in the swivel chair, pushing his black glasses up, and zoning in on the computer. His screen lit up with something you weren't expecting to see:

You.

As the two top students at your high school, you got to know each other pretty well. The wallpaper photo was the two of you on grad night—still in your cap and gown, laughing. It's kind of blurry, but that just adds to the nostalgia.

Your features softened, “You still have that?”

He looked between you and the screen, “Yeah, of course I do.”

You braced your palms against the wood of his desk as he leaned his head back against the chair and looked up at you with his needy, almost lusty brown eyes.

Fuck, has he always been like this?

You gasped as your hand slipped off the corner of his desk causing papers to go floating to the ground.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," you stammered, kneeling to his carpet to pick everything up.

There were some assignments, random formulas amongst scribbles that resembled ones of a mad scientist, and a few printed out photos that you assumed he took.

Your eyebrow quirked as you caught a glimpse of a familiar red and blue suit in the pile of papers you gathered.

You flipped the card, eyes widening as the familiar figure was exactly who you thought it was.

"Is this Spider-Man?" you asked, staring closely at the photo.

"Hm?" he cleared his throat. "Oh uh, yeah. I take pictures of..." he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Him—for the Daily Bugle.”

“Really?” you asked him curiously. “Do you not like him? The Daily Bugle kind of talks shit about Spider-Man-"

"No!" he cut you off. "No, no I love him, he's great—we're kind of close," he rambled. "It's just for the job. He doesn't mind that the pictures go there."

"Oh okay," you nodded. "I like him." you smiled. "You know, he saved my life once."

Franco's eyebrows raised and his mouth dried, “Did he?”

You nodded, trailing your fingers along his desk, "At some event for Oscorp, I was there with our boss's son. The terrace started to crack and... I would've died if it weren't for him."

"I remember that," Franco said instinctively. He cleared his throat, "On the news."

You nodded, "Yeah it was everywhere. I'll always thank him for that. No matter what the media says."

He smiled at you for a moment, taking in your features as you talked about him Spider-Man.

He broke the comfortable silence with a deep inhale, "I should uh- get to editing I guess."

Franco practically begged to walk you home but you insisted that he'd done enough favors for you tonight. The second you left he changed into his suit, headed out into his town of Pilar, and hoped he'd find you strolling safely home.

Unfortunately, you were having anything but that. For the past four blocks there was a group of men following just far enough behind you. Okay... maybe you're just going to the same place. ...Right?

You keep trying to tell yourself that, but they keep getting closer and closer and now they're so close you can hear their footsteps on the wet alleyway concrete. You start to speed up, heels clicking against the ground before they do too, and at this point you're running.

Thankfully, a certain someone was already there before they tried to pull something.

You swung at one of them, hitting him square in the nose as a white web yanked another one of the guys backwards onto the floor.

Spider-Man flipped from one of the buildings into the scene of the fight, leaving all four men in too much pain to get up or completely passed out.

Your head turned to the man, noticing that this time he was unmasked, but you were only able to catch a glimpse of his brown locks before he sprinted off down a corner.

"Wait!" you shouted before sighing, turning your back to the corner he ran to and assessing your surroundings.

He had quickly put his mask back on before hanging upside down off the fire escape stairs of the nearby building.

”Tienes un don para meterte en problemas,” he smirked under his mask.

You let out a sigh of relief when you realized who it was and laughed from his tone, “You have a knack for saving my life. I think I have a superhero stalker.”

He shrugged, “I was in the neighborhood.”

“You are…” you shook your head. “Amazing.”

“Some people don’t think so,” he muttered, referring to the way Daily Bugle talked about him. If only they knew.

“Well," you stepped closer, "I think so.”

“It’s nice to have a fan."

"Do I get to say thank you this time?" you muttered, pulling down the top of his mask.

“¿Estás seguro de que estás bien?” He asked in a whisper, soft pants escaping his lips.

Huh.

He kind of sounds familiar.

"Yeah..." you mumbled with a nod, barely hearing his questions. His lips were the only thing you could look at, for many reasons other than them being at your eye level.

You held his face and slowly connected your lips, rain dripping down from your hair and his chin, coating your cheeks.

You gasped softly as you pulled away, your forehead resting against him as you shut your eyes for a moment. You kissed him softly one more time before returning his mask to cover his lips.

"So," he said to you with a smile you couldn't see. "Do I get to walk you home now?"

a/n: bit of an open ending where the reader might find out that Franco is Spiderman mwahahahaha

351 notes · View notes

dcangel · 1 year ago

Text

^stiles would be SUCH a whore for tits

especially after an awful week, he’s just looking forward to hanging out with you. he wasn’t expecting anything from you, as usual, but when you laid down while he was kissing you, tugging his shirt for him to get on top of you, he got the hint.

he knew you probably had something more planned for him, but stiles was just happy to be here with you, let alone lined up for a good night. his jean-clad hips were situated between your spread thighs, his hands respectfully at your waist despite what you had told him about wanting him in a not so respectful way.

one hand slid up your torso and briefly rested at the base of your neck before finding home in your hair, tugging gently at the roots.

his other hand gets a little more adventurous; sliding up your torso with his thumb hooked under the hem of your shirt. the fabric is brought up, slowly revealing a gorgeous black and red lace patterned bra, a small bow in the middle where the underwire of each cup met, and neat roses lining the top. stiles was too invested in your lips to notice, but when he felt the foreign texture beneath his calloused fingertips, he took a quick peek down.

you felt his lips detach from yours. stiles was staring down as the pretty article of clothing that really did nothing to hide your hardened nipples. his jaw hung agape, yet his lips were barely parted.

he’d never seen you in such clothing. sure, you’d worn patterned bras before, but you’ve never worn lingerie for him.

stiles swore he’s never seen something prettier, someone more angelic. the ineffable beauty of his girl took every word—every thought that didn’t contain you right out of his brain.

you broke him and it was obvious. you could nearly see the gears malfunctioning behind his eyes as he tried to process the alluring sight in front of him.

you watched as stiles’ eyes skimmed over the neatly threaded fabric and the skin underneath, not a single thought of even looking up at you yet. his large hands immediately cupping the doughy mounds, thumb smoothing over your pebbled nipple.

“you like it? I just got it last week, ’nd I was saving it for—well, was gonna save it for your birthday but you were having a bad week, so…”

“you—it’s,” he blew an hefty breeze of air from his mouth as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, “I can’t believe you’d do this for me. I mean, you’re, like, so unbelievably gorgeous right now—no, I mean, you always are, but right now you’re…” brown eyes flickered up to yours briefly, but dropped back down like an invisible force was attracting them like a magnet.

smiling at his hyperactive mind that his mouth often struggled to keep up with, you brought his blushed face back down you yours, his swollen lips fervently meeting yours with esurience.

of course his hands never left your chest. long, slender fingers cupped and squished the soft, doughy mounds of flesh. he could not get over the way you looked in his favorite color. stiles’ appreciation for the color deepened along with the feeling of need.

and suddenly it was like stiles couldn’t scrape the image of fucking you, with nothing on your body except this little bra, out of his mind. it’s was as if he couldn’t imagine not having you like this whenever he wanted, and he knew you’d agree.

#it’s a short one ik😔#I just couldn’t get this one out of my head #but like #in regards to the story #tell me I’m wrong #I’ll wait😁#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #stiles stilinski teenwolf #stiles smut #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x reader #stiles’!world

1K notes · View notes

s4turns-st4rs · 7 days ago

Text

i know you love me, even when you can’t say it like you mean it !

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒ dean winchester oneshot﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: guys who’s back! mars posting semi-regularly?? we must be in some alternate reality! this is some lowkey angst (w a happy ending obv) with peak pathetic dean. it’s pretty different to the one i posted yesterday (? maybe the day before?) SO let me know which one you prefer. anyway enjoy lovelies xxx

requests are always open <3

in which: dean hates it when you fight, but he hates the silent treatment most of all.

words: 0.61k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: as above, so alone - copeland

it’s still silent when dean returns from the corner store down the road. he tosses his purchases on the small table in the centre of the motel room. two packets of crisps, a bottle of soft drink, three skin mags. he doesn’t make a joke about the latter. that’s the first hint he hasn’t forgiven you. or himself. you don’t know yet.

he doesn’t look at you, sharp green eyes scattering across the room, looking for something to distract him from the way the guilt gnaws at him. the bandages across your body make him feel ill. it’s all his fault. and he blamed you. god, he feels ridiculous. but he won’t admit. you both know it.

sam has long since disappeared, with his laptop, continuing his mind-numbing work on the case. but dean doesn’t want to think about the case. he doesn’t want to think about vampires. he wants to think about you. to apologise, to make sure you’re okay, to beg, on his knees, desperate for your forgiveness. but something deep in his gut stops him.

you still haven’t said anything, curled up on the stained couch. dean wants to stab his eyes out. he sits at the table, burying his face in his hands. anything to avoid looking at your bruised, bloody, beautiful face.

you’re both too stubborn. the two of you sit there for an hour, until sam comes into the kitchen to grab a drink, accidentally stumbling upon your tension filled, unspoken competition. he’s witnessed your fights before, but they’ve never lasted this long.

dean’s eyes flicker between your face and the old newspaper articles that line the walls. he’s close to cracking.

you open your mouth to speak to sam, presumably to explain the mess of a situation you’ve found yourselves in, but that’s his breaking point. if he can’t speak to you, no way in hell is sam allowed to.

“fine! i’m sorry, okay?”

you look shocked at dean’s sudden words, not expecting the apology, especially given in so easy. sam takes his cue, silently treading back to his room, but keeping the door slightly ajar, just in case he needs to eavesdrop.

”i’ve been stupid, okay? you’re right, you’re always right, and i should shut up and listen to ya, especially when your life is on the line. it was dumb of me to run into the stupid vampire nest, and it’s all my fault ya got injured.”

is this a win? dean doesn’t know anymore. he just knows he wants you back. needs you back. it’s only been a day, but he’s practically tearing his heart over this, over missing you. missing your smile, your kiss, your laugh, your touch.

but as he watches your reaction, he doesn’t care that his ego’s taken a hit, because a tiny smile plays at the corner of your mouth, despite your split lip, and his heart soars.

“it’s not your fault, you know.” you respond, voice still a little raspy. “but, yeah, it was pretty stupid.”

dean nods furiously, and suddenly feels tears pricking in his eyes. he wipes them away as fast as he could, but he knew you noticed. he’s red faced and teary, but he smiles a little despite himself, knowing you didn’t blame him.

“… well, i’m still sorry, princess.”

his insistence makes you smile, and you respond. “you owe me a drink, you know.”

dean rolls his eyes and lets out an indignant groan, but the smile now permanently on his face tells all.

“i hate you.” he huffs. but he doesn’t. you both know that. he loves you more than life itself. and he is so glad to have you back.

#-ˋˏ✄┈┈ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 .ᐟ #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #x reader

113 notes · View notes

riamaple · 1 month ago

Text

Life on Your Line (Ch. 9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 8.1k (Whew. I thought about splitting this chapter, but nah)

CHAPTER 9: March 2014 - April 2014

April 5, 2014. 12:20 AM

I saved James for the 9th time on March 5, and I got to say goodbye.

<><><>

“…the 8th Annual Popcorn Festival brought about a thousand visitors from around the state. You could say that the smell of butter is quite…”

Boxes of clothes and dinnerware surrounded you as you sat on the couch. Your laptop balanced on your thighs while you did some last-minute edits on an article about a local sports event. You typed away as the news played in the background—a white noise you’d grown used to. The television was something you always left on as it made your home feel less empty; it made it easier to pretend you weren't so alone.

Sighing, you scratched out a comment in the margin before sipping your lukewarm coffee. You glanced out the window, taking in the beautiful day and wishing you were outside on a walk. But you groaned and looked back at the boxes; you quickly edited the last mistake and shut your laptop, closing your eyes before securing the next place to go to.

“…breaking news out of Washington D.C…”

You glanced at the television, noticing the sharpness in the news anchor’s voice.

“The three S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers that had descended into the sky are now shooting at each other just above the Potomac River…”

Your laptop fell to the carpeted floor as you lunged for the remote, quickly increasing the volume. The screen changed, and you gasped at the new footage of the destruction in the air. Two helicarriers were close to landing on the ground while the third struggled to stay in the air.

“We are receiving reports from government officials that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised by HYDRA—”

Everything inside of you went cold.

You slowly stood up and inched toward the television, watching the two helicarriers finally explode into the ground, sending debris and fire in every direction. Your hands rolled into fists.

HYDRA. You hadn’t heard that name aloud in decades. They had been a menace back in the war, sprinkling blood and chaos everywhere they went, slicing through neighborhoods like they were nothing. Followers of HYDRA enjoyed hurting those who never deserved it, making an art out of torture and death, whereas you saw it as a mess.

You thought HYDRA was destroyed—it should’ve been gone—and yet, you watched as destruction unleashed itself in the sky. Rushing away from the television, you looked out of your window, seeing the aircraft in the distance. Your fists tightened as you stepped away, telling yourself that today was definitely not the day to go out and—

“Captain America is reported to be on the remaining helicarrier, fighting HYDRA operatives and—”

You gasped, stumbling back into your coffee table and collapsing to the floor. Coffee spilled all over your carpet, but you couldn’t focus on that. Your eyes were stuck on the screen, the footage blurring as the cameraman ran away from the explosions with others.

Your heart burned in a way that had never done so before.

HYDRA supposedly died during the war, but was now revealed to be alive.

James supposedly died during the war, but had come back as a killer.

James—

You didn’t bother to clean up the coffee, or change out of your sweatpants, or grab more than your wallet, phone, and keys. You locked the door behind you, shaking as you sprinted to your car.

You didn’t know if James would be there, but you knew you had to try and find the only person who ever made you feel alive.

<><><>

Your tires screeched as you slammed on your brakes, and you poked your head out of the window. Ahead of you was a large crowd, some running away from the paths to the Potomac River while others tried to push past the police and barricades to go towards it. You jumped out of your car and shoved past the panicked civilians and news reporters, running towards the wall of people when a loud explosion halted everyone’s movements.

Everyone looked up—some screamed, some cried, and you stared in silence as the last helicarrier collided into the Triskelion. It tore through the structure, causing shattered glass to rain down, and fire and smoke burst upward like a volcano. The air reeked of gas and ash, and the sky darkened. People ran away from the destruction in the distance, but you stood still, stunned by the sight.

“No… Fuck,” you muttered as your feet began to move. “No!”

You bolted to the barricades where families called out names of their loved ones, and journalists shoved cameras toward the officers who prevented anyone from going past them.

“I need to get through!” you yelled as you approached them.

But a cop stepped in your way. “Ma’am, please stay back.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m looking for someone.”

“You and half the city. Stay back!”

You shook your head, trying to move past him. “Please! I need to—”

The officer pushed you back. “I said stay back!”

You threw him a glare before storming off, rushing past the crowd to find an opening of some kind. But all you saw were officers and civilians arguing, many desperate to find their loved ones amongst the festival chaos. The words caught in your throat—there was no way they’d let you in.

Stepping back, you scanned the area, searching for a sign. There was always a sign, right? Something that led you straight to James. But you only saw those after feeling the pull on your heart—when you were destined to die in a few moments.

You clutched at your chest, your lips trembling as you continued to look. “Come on. Come on…” you whispered. “Please… Please tell me where. Where is he? Where—”

You paused.

To the far left of the crowd, past the makeshift barricades and abandoned vehicles, there was a pathway leading into the woods, untouched by any form of chaos.

No officers. No civilians. Just a path.

You ran before anyone could see your lingering stance and quickly ducked into the bushes and twigs. The path was muddy and the branches whipped past your arms, but you didn’t care. You just had to find James.

Because even if nothing pulled at your heart today, there was still so much more to him that needed to be saved.

You pushed through the dense foliage, your eyes sharp as you tried to spot any unusual movement. The faint sounds of helicopters and explosions still filled your ears, joined by the crunching of sticks and gravel underneath your feet. Then, a sound broke the rhythm of your movements—men whispering and shuffling through the underbrush.

You slid to a halt, bracing yourself on a tree as you cursed under your breath. Of course, there would be police around here, keeping track of random things amidst the chaos. You quickly turned, ready to run the other way, when suddenly a man in all black stumbled out of the bushes with a groan.

You froze, meeting the gaze of the man, strapped with a bullet vest and an assault rifle. He stared at you, matching your level of surprise while a couple of more men joined him.

One of the men hissed, “We just need to find the Asset and he can take us to…”

They all stopped at the sight of you, caught in broad daylight as traitors to the nation. Your heart dropped. These men weren’t officers. They weren’t good. They were—

The panic shot through you like a bullet, and you were already running before your brain could process your reaction.

“Stop her!”

Branches tore at your skin and leaves decorated your clothes and hair as you shoved the foliage out of the way. The sound of multiple footsteps grew closer, but you didn’t dare to look behind you. You pushed yourself, your feet pounding on the ground and your breath hitching.

You couldn’t die. Not now—not until you found James and—

Searing pain sliced through your arm as a gunshot echoed. Your knees buckled as you shrieked, rolling onto the sticks and gravel. A strangled cry escaped your throat as you frantically clutched your upper arm, where a bullet had grazed your skin. It wasn't a deep wound, but it still seeped in blood. You tried to push yourself up, but your hand slipped on the dirt as pain shot up your arm again. You flipped onto your back, trembling with tears in your eyes as the men surrounded you.

One of them cursed before turning to another. “You idiot! You might've alerted the police!”

“She was going to get away!” The man snapped back, swinging his gun onto his back and pulling out a knife.

You yelped, raising your hands. “I don’t know what’s happening,” you gasped, your voice quivering. “I didn’t see anything, I swear. I—”

The man didn’t flinch. He only looked down at you, expression hardening.

“No witnesses,” he said, voice low and chilling.

Your heart raced, your body desperate to scramble away, but the men were all around you. You hissed when another wave of pain ripped through your arm, forcing you to grip the wound while the man approached you.

Death was never your friend, but also never your enemy. It was just an entity that you offered your hand to—to whisk you away for a few weeks while someone else continued with their life. It always just lingered by your side, and you let it stay and take you whenever it wanted.

You were fine with it…until now. No, you couldn't die until you found James or knew he was okay. You had to know.

“Please don't,” you whispered to the man, who stood over you. “Please…”

But the man only grumbled, and your heart dropped knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind. You sighed, closing your eyes as he raised his knife over you.

It wasn't your first time dying without saving someone, but it didn't make it hurt less.

You waited for the knife, but a gunshot echoed instead.

Your eyes shot open as the man collapsed next to you, his eyes wide as blood streamed from a hole in his forehead. You scrambled away, looking at the other men who were all startled by a sudden presence. When you followed their gaze, your heart soared as another gunshot rang, making another man fall to the ground.

“Soldier!” One of them shouted, raising his weapon. “What are you—”

He choked on his words when a fist slammed into his skull, sending him to the floor while two more men got shot in the head. Your heart pounded as the remaining men scrambled, trying to pull on their puppet’s strings, but none of them realized that you were the blade that sliced through them.

James’s movements were graceful as always, with no mercy on his face as he attacked each man.

A gunshot to the forehead.

A knife in the chest.

A snapped neck.

All for you.

Eventually, everyone was quiet except for James.

Ragged breaths left his throat as he dropped his arms, his right limb hanging awkwardly as his shoulder throbbed. He scanned the area briefly, checking for any sign of life, until his gaze landed on you.

There was no pause. No moment where James looked at you blankly. No second for his face to flicker—to show that he recognized you.

Because he already had his hand raised out for you. “Rose…”

You briefly froze when he stumbled towards you, his feet unstable. He swayed, but you quickly scrambled towards him as he fell onto his knees, and you wrapped your arms around him.

You weren’t expecting him to wrap his arms around you as well.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply as you held him closer, your eyes still wide from his reaction. It was as if all of the years between you and him had never vanished this time—locked in place and granted a visit when you both needed them. The man who brutally murdered all of the HYDRA agents was gone.

It was James Barnes who softly breathed in your arms.

You slowly pulled away, and you both found each other’s eyes.

Oh, those frost-blue eyes were always your favorite, weren’t they?

You took in his face, examining the minor cuts and blood smears, and breaking over the exhaustion underneath his eyelids. The scars on his temples were back again—fresh as if he had been wiped only a day ago. And yet, he looked at you as the one memory that survived.

Before you could speak, James suddenly moved away, crawling towards one of the dead bodies and ripping off their sleeve. You blinked as he returned to you, carefully wrapping the cloth around your gash. You winced when he tightened the knot, but then looked at him again as he kept his attention on your arm, almost as if you were made of porcelain.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, catching his gaze. “Do you remember me?” you whispered, still shocked by his gentle movements.

He stared at you, his presence quiet—not in the usual way of being stealthy to attack someone, but as if he valued every second he got to simply look at you. His gaze sent a wave of ache through your chest, and he gently brushed his fingers against your wrist, making sure you were real.

His voice was quiet—hoarse—but so certain. “I can’t forget you.”

Something skipped in your heart.

As his words sank into the deepest parts of you, you instinctively cradled his cheek, rough with stubble and sprinkled with pain. James stared back at you, his gaze heavy as he remembered the last time he saw you—when you sprinted away with a bomb against your chest.

But there you were now, breathing in front of him.

James shut his eyes, gently leaning into your touch as he grabbed your wrist, his warmth making you shiver. The feelings you’d denied—the ones you’d fought against for so long—filled in the cracks of your damaged heart. After getting your heart tugged at over, and over, and over again, it seemed that only James could mend it back together.

You quietly exhaled, your gaze drifting around as you finally took in how battered he looked. You grimaced and squeezed his arm with your other hand. “James… What happened to you?”

“Fought Steve.” His voice was so quiet.

You paused, looking back at him with a twist in your stomach. “Captain America?”

He nodded, his eyes aiming downward. “I failed my mission.”

“Oh, James… No. No, no, no…” you softly said, shaking your head. “You don’t need to go on those missions anymore, James… No more. It’s over now.”

He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze away from you. But you brought your other hand to his cheek, cupping his face and leading him to meet your eyes again.

He froze.

Since the day you two met in Brooklyn, you had saved him from the deadliest of attacks—explosions, stab wounds, gunshots, poison. For nearly eighty years, it had always been about survival and sorrow. But now, in this quiet moment...he saw something he had never seen before.

You smiled, wiping away the blood that escaped the cut just above his cheek. “You’re free. James, you’re free,” you quietly said.

It was his turn for words to sink into his heart—his cold, yet burning heart. His lips suddenly trembled as his eyes went wide, slightly darting around as his fractured mind tried to process what you said. You only cupped his face, still being gentle but firm.

Though it sounded strained, you gave him a laugh for the first time. “James…you’re free.”

The sound of your laughter made his heart beat faster.

And your smile?

Wow. It was beautiful.

Without thinking, James raised his hand towards the lower part of your cheek, his thumb near the corner of your lip as if he were protecting your smile. When his fingers brushed your skin, your breath hitched, but not because you were afraid—no, you weren't afraid of James. Deep down, you always knew he had this affectionate side; despite being trained to kill, he was always someone who could touch without taking.

And it took someone like you for that side to come out.

You leaned into the touch, your heart leaping in a manner you were still hesitant to name. There were these three words that you both wanted to say, but for now, the silence felt right—to be able to gaze into each other’s eyes was enough. James softly exhaled before leaning forward, resting his forehead on yours.

And you let him. After losing so much to allow others to gain happiness, you allowed yourself to have this one thing.

You allowed yourself to have James.

You leaned too, closing your eyes as you both appreciated each other’s warmth. After a moment, the nearby sirens began to grow louder. You slowly pulled away, looking up at the sky to see helicopters flying around. Your palms slipped away from James’s face but quickly found themselves in his hands. He watched you as you squeezed his hands.

“We have to go,” you said, your voice soft yet hurried.

James blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. “…We?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, nodding your head. “We. Let’s go.” You let out another laugh. “Let’s go, James.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed his metal hand and pulled him up alongside you. You didn’t see the faint smile that James had at your words when you began to run. You both weaved through bushes and branches as you guided him back to where you came from.

But you quickly faltered when you heard people, more than before. James then squeezed your hand and gestured to the side, and you two ran off once again. You were unsure if the police knew who James was—if they knew he was a threat—but you couldn’t risk it. You still carried the weight of almost losing him once, and you wouldn’t let it happen again.

As you both pushed through the foliage, buildings began to appear in your view. When you reached the street, you carefully looked around to spot any bystanders before pulling him in between the buildings. The sounds of people began to grow louder as you navigated the alleyways, cautious of running into anyone.

James didn’t let go of your hand once.

“My car is nearby,” you said, rounding the corner of another building. “I can go and come get you and—”

You froze when a young cop suddenly walked into view, his hand trained on his gun and the other on his radio. He caught sight of you two before you could drag James back, and you instinctively stood in front of him.

James still didn’t let go of your hand.

“S-Stop right there!” the cop shouted with his gun raised at you, and it hit you that the cop was new—just a nervous, young man donning a slightly wrinkled uniform, fresh on the job and finally on a call without his training officer.

You gulped, not daring to take a step as the cop’s eyes flickered between you and James. The glint of silver sent tremors through the man’s body, and he clicked his radio on.

“The Winter Soldier is here—he matches Agent Romanoff’s description.”

You widened your eyes, trying to take a step forward. “No—”

But James pulled you back close to him, making sure you weren't too far away. Your breath hitched as the cop lowered his radio, staring at you two with his gun still raised. You squeezed James’s hand, unable to look back to see his expression as you kept your gaze on the cop.

You lightly shook your head. “Sir…”

“Ma’am, step away from him.” He placed both hands on his weapon, though you could see him slightly tremble.

“No, he’s not dangerous,” you tried to argue. “He’s not going to hurt anyone, I swear—”

“I need you to step away from him,” he firmly said.

“No, I can’t. Please, listen to me. He’s not dangerous.”

The cop shook his head, his voice quivering. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am. Step away.”

“I can’t—”

“Step away!”

You flinched, James’s grip tightening around your hand. Taking a deep breath, you acknowledged your beating heart. You always waited for the curse to notify you of your upcoming death, but right now, you didn't need it to. You already knew. You were already saying yes.

This moment just felt like a goodbye.

You took a slow, grounding breath and looked at the officer, hoping that things could maybe change despite your intuitions. “You don’t have to do this,” you gently said, slowly taking a step back. “Please. Let us go.”

The cop’s expression turned conflicted, but only for a brief moment. “Ma’am, step away from the soldier.”

You took another step back but paused.

James had let go of your hand.

The cop took a step forward, ignoring the incoming calls on his radio as he stayed trained on you. “I’m warning you! Stay still!”

Looking up, you turned your attention back to the cop, your eyes now shimmering with threatening tears. “I can’t.”

You welcomed the tug on your heart as you quickly turned, trying to grab James to run away with him when a gunshot rang out. The sound was much louder than you expected, ringing in your ears as your knees gave out. You fell into James’s chest as he had already wrapped his metal arm around you—his hand on your head—and you waited to bleed out and vanish once again. Except…you opened your eyes with terror because…

Nothing tugged at your heart.

Slowly, you turned your head around and found the cop on the ground, quiet and still as blood ran from his forehead. You choked on your breath—an innocent man who was just doing his job was now dead. Before you could lose yourself in the brutal sight, James guided your face back to him. Your eyes instantly widened at his gun raised, and you looked up at him.

James stared down at you with a softened gaze, letting out a quiet breath, relieved you were okay, and lowered his gun. His metal arm continued to firmly lock you in place, and when you tried to look back at the cop again, he gently cradled your face with his metal hand.

“Don’t,” he whispered, making you look at him again.

Then you smelled it. Something burnt and sharp attacked your nose, and you grimaced away from his hand. You glanced at it and faltered when you noticed the circular, burnt hole on the back of his glove. You immediately grabbed his palm, examining the hole as it clicked that his hand had been on your head when the cop shot at you.

You didn’t feel the tug on your heart because it wasn’t time to die yet.

And you still hoped that you wouldn’t today.

The hole caused a tear so wide that the glove was barely intact, encouraging you to just rip it off. The crackle of the cop’s radio grew more urgent, and you squeezed your eyes shut, silently apologizing to the young man who didn’t have to lose his life.

You then reached for James’s arm, blinking the unshed tears away before looking at him again. “Let’s go.”

He nodded, grabbing your hand before you two ran through the alleyways once again. The streets around you were still loud with chaos, sirens screaming and people shouting, and the noise was only getting worse as you neared your car. When you turned around the corner, you managed to jump back quickly enough to avoid getting spotted by a man who was gathering his family out of the back door of his store. You peeked at them running away, leaving the door ajar. Immediately, you pulled James with you towards the store.

You yanked James into the building, slamming the exit shut before locking it. A heavy breath escaped your lips as you marched further into the small clothing store, the lights off and the neon-open sign no longer shining. Racks of discounted clothes made the store cramped, while the crinkled, loose receipts and plastic lighter on the countertop somehow made the place look a bit more lively.

Quickly, you weaved through the aisles to the front of the store until your heart clenched at the sight outside. The streets were in absolute shambles; there were swarms of police officers—some helping people and some looking for James—pushing past panicking citizens and festival attendees. Everyone was navigating their way through abandoned cars that clogged the streets, and you cursed under your breath, realizing that your car must also be trapped.

You backed away from the windows, biting your lips as you tried to think of a solution. You turned around, walking past James, who watched you with such sternness as you glanced at the clothes.

Maybe you both could hide in the store until fewer people were around. Maybe you could throw civilian clothes on him and sneak him away. Or, maybe you could—

Something tugged at your heart.

Chills shot up your body as your eyes immediately began to well with tears.

Of course.

Of course, you couldn’t have this.

Shame on you for believing you could live for once.

Your breath shuddered, and you looked to your side to see what the world had planned for your next sacrifice—

Something tugged at your arms.

You flinched as you looked up at James, feeling the desperation in his grasp while he stared at you with absolute horror. “Don’t.”

You froze. After seeing that look on your face so many times, James could no longer stand still when he knew you were about to die.

You shook your head. “James—”

“Don’t leave me,” he quickly said, gripping your arms tighter. “Don’t.”

“I…”

The words in your throat trailed off when you gazed past him, spotting through the windows an abandoned truck among the vehicles. The back of the truck was slightly opened, just enough for a person to squeeze in, and the side was painted with lighthearted imagery—of children and their parents smiling at the sky, decorated with the colorful rays of fireworks.

Fireworks.

You glanced at the countertop, where the lighter was calling for you.

James squeezed your arms, bringing your attention back to him. But when he saw your eyes, his breath hitched. You had already made your choice.

You gently pulled away, your eyes dark with acceptance as you whispered, “You need a distraction.”

You turned to the countertop, stepping towards it when James suddenly lunged, snatching the lighter with his metal hand. You gaped at his speed, and within a second, the two of you stared at each other. When you glanced at the lighter, you exhaled, your eyebrows loosening as you looked at him without an ounce of panic.

“James,” you held your hand out, palm facing towards the ceiling, “give it to me.”

“No,” he hissed, his eyes already starting to water—his humanity completely breaking out. “No, I won’t. I—”

When he went to squeeze the lighter into pieces, you quickly shook your head. “Don’t,” you softly begged, tears blurring your vision before his tears even fully fell. “Please…give it to me.”

“No.”

“James—”

“You said we.” He choked on his breath, his lips trembling with distress. “You said—”

“I know,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as tears finally ran down your face. “I know what I said, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You took a sharp breath while your shoulders bobbed, unable to ignore the pain within your chest. “I’m so sorry, but I need you to give me the lighter.”

James bit his lip as a teardrop rolled down his cheek. “Rose, please…”

“James, listen to me.” You quickly walked up to him, and he raised his hand higher, believing you were trying to take the lighter from him. But instead, you grabbed his shoulders and forced out a smile. “I’ll distract them, okay? I’ll distract them and you’ll run.”

“No—”

“You’ll run,” you repeated, your smile becoming bigger with both hope and despair. “You’re gonna get out of here, and—and you’re gonna live.”

James faltered, clenching his jaw hard to prevent any more tears from escaping his eyes. “Don’t leave me,” he croaked.

Your hands were trembling. God, they were trembling so much, but you still cradled his face as more tears streamed down your cheeks. “I have to. I have to protect you.”

He gripped your arm with his free hand. “Rose—”

“You need to get out of here before they find you, okay?” You smiled, swiping away his damp hair from his frost-blue eyes. “I’ll distract them. I’ll get them off your back, and you just run. You run as far away as you can.”

James’s face twisted as if a part of him was being torn apart. He dealt with pain before—accepted it, even. Bullet wounds, knife scars, broken bones, electricity burning into his skull—he had endured them all. But nothing had ever hurt like this.

Without realizing it, he lowered his metal hand, though his grip around the lighter was still firm. Then he whispered, his voice laced with desperation, “Come with me.”

You wanted to. You dreamed of running away and building a life with him as normal as it could be. And it was astonishing that after everything—after showing James just how broken you were and how often you could get broken—he still wanted you.

You wanted him too, but the world was never fair to you.

“I can’t,” you rasped, your voice barely holding together.

“Why?”

“You know why. We’ve done this before. We—” You swallowed back the weight lurking in your chest. “We both know what happens if we try to stop this. So, please...”

Then you pulled away from him, quickly moving through the racks and yanking off clothes as you knew you were running out of time. A dark, worn-out jacket and a baseball cap to match it made their way into your grasp, later joined by a pair of gloves. James watched you gather these clothes, just big enough to fit him, and he didn’t move until you returned to him. You smiled through the tears, trying to look strong for him as you set down the hat and gloves on the countertop.

“Here…” You swiftly, yet also so lovingly, threw the jacket around him.

James should’ve resisted—he should’ve pushed the jacket away—but instead, he shut his eyes. His tears finally spilled down freely while he let you pull the sleeves over his arms, then tucked his head for you to adjust the cap. He should’ve fought, but he also knew you were right. He couldn’t stop you from dying.

But when you tried to put gloves on him, he still didn’t let go of the lighter.

Because, yes, he knew he couldn’t stop you from dying, but why would anyone be willing to let it happen?

James kept his gaze on the floor, unable to look at you as you held onto his metal hand, gently trying to pry his fingers off. When they wouldn’t budge, you choked on your breath again. Much to his dismay, you tilted your head downwards so he had to look at your face. Your smile was back, decorated with tears and so much warmth. James straightened up again as you squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” you softly said with a tremor in your voice, but he turned his head again with his eyes closed. He couldn’t accept this. He just couldn’t.

The hopelessness in James reminded you of yourself—of all those years waiting for a sense of relief, whether it’d stem from truly living or truly dying. You hate feeling hopeless, so you did your best to never have hope in the first place.

But now? You couldn’t help it. Seeing that James was so close to being free, you had to hold onto some because having hope for life was the only way for him to live again. So you broke into another rhythm of sobs, smiling as you guided his head back so he could gaze at you again.

His frost-blue eyes went wide, full of disbelief as you reached behind your neck and pulled the chain free. You had only ever taken off your necklace when necessary—to preserve its quality, not for anyone but yourself. It had some discoloration, and the chain should be replaced again, but it still held the same love your brother had for you when he surprised you with the locket more than a hundred years ago, when you were drowning in grief.

There was never a reason to let go of it, but now you stood with the locket dangling over James’s metal hand.

“Here,” you broke into another smile, “take it. Keep it safe for me.”

He hesitated.

There had been moments in which James wanted to take your locket—to have something to remember you by when he went back to prison. But as a soon-to-be free man, he didn’t need it. He didn’t want the locket—he wanted you. You were all he ever wanted, but he also couldn’t reject anything you offered.

You'd given up so much for him, so the least he could do was to accept it, right?

Slowly, James loosened his grip, revealing the lighter, and you took it. You shoved it into your pocket while placing the necklace in his palm.

When you let go of the locket, your heart ached with both sorrow and joy. Then, when you looked at his face, your heart only ached more because he stared at the locket like it was the most fragile thing in the world. Somehow, despite the loss you felt, a wet laugh escaped your throat. Before he could say anything, you reached for the necklace again and leaned closer.

James didn’t dare to move a muscle as you fastened the chain around his neck, feeling your fingers trail on his skin—terrified that this could be his last chance to feel you this close. When the chain was fastened, you cradled the locket, opening it and reading the name that, as always, stayed so dear to your heart. With a broken smile, you let the locket fall out of your hand, watching it rest near James’s heart.

It could stay dear to his now.

Maybe it already was.

You then grabbed the pair of gloves, quickly slipping one onto his metal hand. Then you reached for his right hand—

He grabbed your wrist.

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes again as he moved his hand to your cheek, cupping it—wanting to feel the warmth of your skin before the glove went on. Gloom overtook his expression as he memorized every detail of your face, and your breath hitched. More tears began to fill your eyes, and without thinking, you yanked him into a hug.

A simple hug. Who knew it was so difficult to get one?

Time was running out, but you both counted every second in each other’s embrace. For once, you both didn’t hold each other because one of you was dying—because one of you had blood running down your body, needing comfort as you tried to breathe through the pain.

No. You just hugged each other.

You rested your chin on his shoulder. “Everything will be okay,” you quietly said, and James could hear your smile.

He only held you tighter, desperately wanting to hold on forever, but he learned a long time ago that forever wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal. After all, he lived for what felt like forever, and it had just been full of pain, suffering, and violence.

The only thing that ever kept him human was currently in his arms.

It was a big ask—to leave you to die once again. Every time, James wanted to fight to save you, but he knew this was what you wanted—that this was what it had to be.

Yes, it was a big ask, but there was nothing in the world that he wouldn’t do for you.

So, he slowly pulled away, looking into your eyes once again. His frost-blue eyes were always your favorite, but your eyes were also his; a grounding presence that made him feel so alive after decades of being lifeless. He wanted to stare into your eyes forever, but again, forever couldn’t happen.

You cradled his face one last time, and you smiled so wide that maybe it hurt a little bit more than everything you felt inside your chest, your stomach, and your heart.

“I’ll be okay,” you softly reassured him, but even you didn’t know if that was going to be the truth.

Finally, you took his right hand and put the glove on it. You took one last look at the locket on his chest before zipping up his jacket, hiding his dark uniform and the soldier he was trained to be. Your hand lingered on his chest, right over his heart, then you stepped away.

With a deep breath, you slowly walked to the front and paused when you watched the unraveling chaos in the streets once again. James kept his eyes on you, and then he followed your gaze. His stomach twisted when he spotted the truck, now realizing why you’d needed the lighter all along.

Every part of him wanted to grab you again, telling you not to go into the truck—that you didn’t have to set off the fireworks. You could run away with him right now, but he knew that the world wouldn’t allow it. You turned around again and you faced him, and acceptance with all he saw in your eyes,

You smiled again. He didn’t realize how much he loved seeing it, and he hoped he could see it again in the future.

“I’ll see you around, James,” you said with a tearful grin.

When you went to turn around again, James's murmur stopped you in your tracks. You looked back at him, confused, until he repeated himself.

“Bucky…” He bit his lips, nervous to even say that name. “I think I’m Bucky.”

You gazed at him with astonishment, and you let out a laugh—it sounded strangled, choked by the sheer swell of emotion inside you.

“Yeah, you are,” you said, wiping away the tears even though you knew more would come. “Go and find out who Bucky is, okay? Go…live.”

He stared at you, hands curling into fists, and let out a strained breath. “Will I see you again?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took a moment to fully look at him one last time, then you slowly nodded.

“Only when you need me,” you replied with a curl to your lips.

Then you turned around, unable to linger any longer. You stepped in front of the door, deeply exhaling as you felt James’s gaze on your back. Finally, when you stepped out of the front door, James stepped out of the back door, and the two of you went your separate ways despite wanting to hold each other again.

The streets were still in chaos, but none of that bothered you. Silently, you walked towards the truck, not paying attention to any of the people running past you. Civilians and officers paid no attention to you, and you wondered if this was the world’s doing—letting you walk towards your death.

It was fine. It was all to save James.

No one stopped you from climbing into the truck, and when you stood up straight, you couldn't help but sigh. Boxes and fireworks filled your view, all cramped inside the warm vehicle, ready to bring joy to others.

But that was their purpose at this moment.

You climbed towards the middle, ripped open a box, and gathered numerous fuses into your palm before pulling out the lighter. For a moment, you heard nothing. Your mind tuned out the shouting outside—it was just you and the fireworks.

A bitter laugh escaped your throat. “You love to fucking blow me up, don’t you?” you said, shaking your head at the fuses in your hand. Then you sadly smiled, letting out a soft breath. “Whatever. Just make sure he gets away. That's all I ask.”

You lit the fuses and let go, watching multiple trails of fire make their way toward the gunpowder cases.

“Let him escape,” you quietly begged, and you closed your eyes.

Through your eyelids, you could still see the bright colors, but the beauty only lasted for a second before you felt heat sear your skin and hair. You collapsed, letting the fireworks engulf you as they had no room to spread out.

The heat became overwhelming quickly, and you didn’t know if you were still breathing when the truck exploded.

Maybe some of the other cars also exploded. Maybe some people got hurt.

At this point, you couldn’t give a shit.

You only cared that James made it out.

<><><>

April 5, 2014. 12:20 AM

I saved James for the 9th time on March 5, and I got to say goodbye.

I think you like to see me die in an explosion because that’s the third time it’s happened with James — I don't know how many total in general. For a moment, I really thought you were going to let me go with him. Let me take him home where we can have something together. But no, you just had to make sure I didn’t get that.

When I saw James, he was already himself. He didn’t just exist behind his eyes — I saw him in his face, in his body. He wasn’t whole — he’s still made up of different pieces, but he was still there. And unlike last time, he called me Rose without an ounce of hesitation. He reached for me too — hugged me for the first time without death coming for us at that moment.

Maybe fighting Steve unlocked the part of his mind that was locked up by HYDRA. Whatever it was, he actually remembered me. Not recognized — he remembered.

I didn’t even know if he was going to be out there when I saw what was happening on the news. I had my suspicions, but nothing was certain, so I was so fucking happy when he found me.

When he did, he protected me — killed every one of those men before they had a chance to hurt me again. He looked so guilty when he saw my wound. I was always the one to save him, but I felt then that he was trying to save me too.

I thought we could go home together. Can you imagine that? The Winter Soldier in my living room, sitting on my couch and watching TV, maybe drinking a cup of tea. What an image. I'd love to see that.

But of course, you had to send me away.

He didn't want me to leave. He held onto me like a lost puppy, but I couldn’t stay. I could never stay, so I told him to run and find out more about himself. He touched my arm, my hand, and my face like it was the last time he could.

He really didn't want me to die, so I did the unthinkable — I gave him my locket. I never thought I'd meet someone worthy enough to carry my locket until now. James can protect Rose whenever he goes now, hopefully thinking of me when times get hard.

And then he called himself Bucky. He remembered his nickname. It’s cute. Really cute.

I checked the news when I woke up, even though my body burned like hell — it felt like I got sunburned 20 times. They didn’t find James.

Thank fuck.

The truck caused quite the explosion — there’s a reason why you don’t light up fireworks in a small space. A few people got hurt, but no one died. Except me, but no one ever knows that.

There's not a single trace of James — the police tried to find him, but without the proper resources or SHIELD, there’s no way to find him for now. Good. He deserves to live a little.

I wish for James Bucky James to have a good life.

You know, I never had a reason to thank you. You fucked up my life a lot — stopped me from being with my friends and family and James — so really, you don't deserve my appreciation at all. But thank you for letting me save him. I know it's mainly me who has to do it, but I can't help but think you led me to him this time. Gave me a little bit of time with him before I had to go.

He’s free now. He's free.

I know we were running out of time again, but for once we had enough time to say goodbye. Maybe next time, we’ll have some time to say hello too.

I’ll see him again. I’ll give him another hug and a smile and maybe that time, we don’t have to rush at all. We can just hold each other because we can.

I'd love to do that. He gives really good hugs.

You closed the journal and set it aside. With a soft breath, you pulled your covers up and got comfortable. You closed your eyes, letting yourself go to sleep.

<><><>

April 5, 2014. 6:05 AM

I couldn’t fall asleep, so here I am again.

A lot happened on March 5, but it's not all the action that's keeping me awake.

I keep on thinking about the way he held onto me. Like I said, he gives really good hugs, although I doubt he's given a lot of them as the Winter Soldier. But that's just proof that James was always there.

There are these feelings that I always tried to push away whenever I see him or even think about him, but when he held me that day — cradled my face and put his forehead on mine as he cried for me again, I couldn’t stop those feelings. I didn't want to if anything.

I’ve been alive for over 100 years, and over time I just learned that it was easier to live when I didn’t have anyone to care about. The more I care, the more it hurts when I lose someone. So I tried to lose connections — to be alone as much as I could.

But, James… James is different. There’s no one like him — quite literally because I don’t know anyone else who has lived alongside me, never growing old and forced to be a ghost. And despite trying so hard not to, I grew to care about him.

And then that care became something more. Something scarier, but also so...relieving and...

Exciting.

I never wanted to say it aloud, or write it down, or even think about it, even though I felt this way for decades. It's too scary to admit the truth. But after spending over 100 years pretending to be someone else — unable to be honest and connect with people — I just can’t bring myself to lie about this anymore.

I’m in

I’m

I’m in

I’m in love.

You paused.

Then something strange happened. Your shoulders shook—not with fear, but with something so unexpected that it startled you.

You laughed, which wasn't new.

But at that moment, you laughed from being in love.

You were in love.

At first, you were quiet, but as more laughter escaped your throat, you became louder. Your laughs bubbled and filled your heart with a particular kind of warmth that you hadn’t felt in over a century. Your eyes released all the tears you were holding back, but you didn’t mind at all. They weren't made from sorrow, and you tilted your head back to let them fall.

You didn't remember the last time you felt like this, and yet you felt right at home as you wrote down those three words again.

I’m in love.

You laughed harder and your hand trembled, but you continued to write.

I’m in love.

I'm in love.

I’m in love wi

You pressed your journal against your chest, refusing to wipe your tears away as they were signs of your release. Then, with the widest smile you ever had, you opened the journal again, and finally allowed yourself to write down the full truth.

I’m in love with James Bucky Barnes.

I love James Bucky Barnes.

James, I love you.

NEXT CHAPTER >

AN: I decided to make a banner for this story and put it on every chapter just so that it's easier to spot :)

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys

Thanks for reading :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #ca:tfa #ca:tws #ca:cw #tfatws

120 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! Loved your Toto fic… could I request Toto x wife!reader where they both have demanding jobs, reader is deployed in army or navy etc occupation (I know it’s out there 😂) and she’s away while he’s working a race weekend, not being able to concentrate fully only wanting his wife home, safe and sound. Thank you.

The Fight for Entertainment - Toto x MilitaryWife! Reader

Plot: Both you and Toto knew they’d be struggles in your relationship with how busy both of you were. However one weekend … seems a little too much than then rest.

Credit to mythos-writes for the GIF

Your relationship with Toto didn’t start bad. You had just come home from being deployed for the last 8 months. You hadn’t seen any family and all you wanted to was to spend two weeks in the peace of your family home rather than at base.

And for the first 3 days it was perfect. You grazed on the sofa looking after your nieces and nephews who were more than happy to see you and get hugs from their favourite auntie.

But then they wanted to go out to restaurants and then they wanted to drive 2 hours to the nearest beach and spend the whole day there.

The worst was when sport changed from lounging around in the sofa to your dad somehow having acquired some tickets. College football, then his favourite which was the NBA Basketball game you all attended.

But towards the end of what was supposed to be time relaxing your mum won your dad tickets to a Grand Prix at one of the most iconic circuits in North America.

You guys made the flight to Texas, landing in Austin in the early hours of the morning and going straight to the track for FP1 and the F2 practices that were being held there.

It was a pretty exhausting day but that is where you caught the eye of media personal and other security officers. As far as the military went you were pretty high ranking especially after all the news articles around your last deployment.

So it wasn’t a surprise when you got invited for a tour around the Mercedes Paddock. A very nice man, you remember him as he still worked there, Stephen who showed you round the whole day.

You met Toto and at first he didn’t pay too much attention to you. A small hello, before rushing off to do whatever team principles did.

It wasn’t until the end of the weekend, Lewis having won that you actually started talking to Toto.

And then you spent the rest of your time with him, until you were deployed again. He understood and it wasn’t like you guys were serious or anything.

But when he saw you for the first time in 2 months he realised just how much he’d missed you. Work was a beautiful distraction, one where he didn’t think on you being gone much as his full concentration was needed on the races he’d be travelling too.

But as you guys became more serious, the more he struggled to focus at work worried about where you were and what risks you were currently posing. But with the rank you were in, you were actually relatively safe, no longer on the front lines like you had been as a rookie when your first joined.

But you worked around how much you were both apart from one another especially after you guys agreed to marry, you would give him as many updates as humanly possible and would make time for him, whenever you had free time.

Which actually meant you started attending a lot more races, which your dad definitely wasn’t complaining about as he got free tickets every time.

However, a letter that both you and Toto dreaded came through, only 1 week after your last deployment.

“Baby” you say softly, holding the letter behind you, trying to hide the tears in your eyes.

“Yes? What it is Schatz?” He asks taking a seat on the sofa and patting next to it for you to come and take a seat.

“W-we need to talk” you breathe out knowing neither one of you will like the conversation that’s about to follow.

“What is it?” He asks, and you place the letter in front of him on his lap. He tenses seeing the government stamp on it, it being an all too familiar and hated letter in the household.

“Do you want to read it alone? Or with me here?” You ask and he shakes his head, grabbing into your hand as a means to ask you to stay with him.

He read the letter detailing that you’d be going to the frontlines of a war torn country under a protection treaty from the US Military. Something about your exceptional negotiation skills being needed.

You hadn’t been on the front lines in a while, not since you and Toto had become serious and as he’s reading it you can tell from his expressions that he’s fully taking it in.

A little wiggle of his brow in frustration, a sharp intake of breath as he presumably sees where you’ll be going.

“Baby - I” he starts and you just lean into him, pulling him into a hug and nuzzling into the side of his neck as he holds you close, trying not to let any tears fall out of his own eyes.

“You know you don’t need to do this anymore, I provide more than enough for the both of us” he exclaims looking over your face to see if you had any objections.

“You know I can’t do that, regardless of the risk I love my job and I love helping people” you smiled softly.

So that’s where today let you both, you were somewhere in a country fighting for the freedoms of thousands while Toto was providing entertainment for thousands in Miami.

But all he was thinking of was you, he hadn’t heard from you in around 2 weeks and he was starting to worry, he knew this time you’d be busy and more of the grid than he’d ever experienced in your lengthy partnership.

He’d have expected a letter or one of the media personnel to have sent a text on your behalf but there was that fear in the back of his mind that you were coming home too him.

Everyone Toto spoke to that weekend could tell something was wrong, and that it had to do with the absence of his wife as he shut people off whenever they had brought her into conversation.

Media day on Thursday was the most dismal, it wasn’t a bright day in Miami actually brining in some unexpected rain which brought the already down mood in Mercedes even lower.

George and Lewis refused to answer any questions unless they were purely racing related and the affect Toto had on his team was obvious. The rigramole that was where you currently were and why Toto was seemingly affecting the whole team with his bad mood.

The FP1 and FP2 results on Friday also reflected the lack of energy the team seemed to have, having slow practice pit stops, both drivers making rookie mistakes and Toto being angrier than usual.

However by the time Saturday came around things were looking brighter. The usual Miami sun had returned and a few of the Mercedes team members had found a certain rumour of interest that brightened their mood.

So when Sunday came around and they were listening to the anthem, the few that knew what was about ti happen were bouncing on the balls of their feet, anticipated to see their bosses reaction.

You, you were there holding the flag for your country as it was a states race. You’d be asked seeing as you were dismissed early from your deployment for such a good job, and having only had a small break since your last deployment.

So there you were, coming out of the helicopter down a rope as you walk the flag as the National anthem sounds on the speakers.

You pull your helmet fully off and your looking for any sign of Toto.

First you look eyes with some of the mechanics that were aware of this trying to remain respectful for the anthem but being excited that maybe this weekend would turn out better than they had thought at the start of the long weekend.

Then it drifts to the drivers and your immediately looking for the two British drivers in the black race suit and eventually you find the shocked look of Lewis and George, before smiles crown their faces.

“And presenting the flag for us today, Sargent Y/L/N” is spoke just as the anthem ends and you raise the flag up the pole.

Toto watches on with tears in his eyes only having just noticed it was you. He was so confused as to why you were there so early but he wasn’t going to complain.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you pulled up the flag to its full glory.

He waits, waits for permission to come see you and stand by you. You were called here on purpose right, it was for him? So he could see you?

He waited to get the nod off approval to come and pull you into a hug.

He stopped at arms length looking over you, he loved seeing you in your uniform, in his mind it was the most attractive you looked.

“Schatz?” He asks in disbelief. He pulls you into a hug and kisses all over your face, bending down due to his tall frame.

“Thought I’d surprise you! I missed you” you grin happily and he just keeps a hold of you.

“You happier now boss? Can we go racing?” One of the mechanics teases from the side.

“Yeah, jeez get your team together man” Lewis adds.

“Now that Y/N’s here it’s going to be a great weekend” George exclaims happily and you smile at the team as they continue to tease Toto.

And what a weekend it ended up being. Not only did they have Lewis as race winner, but George in P3 making it a double Mercedes podium.

And it’s safe to say, that you weren’t deployed for a while after that race which your husband was more than happy about.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #toto wolff team principal #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff dad #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff

645 notes · View notes

zeichannnnn · 11 months ago

Text

⚠️ In regards to the natlan controversy (and Sumeru by proxy)

Do NOT accuse people of being racist just because your skin colour cannot be found in a game. Learn to know that people don't live in the same situation as you.

Please read this fully for the reality of things I'm sorry for getting political, skip if you don't want to interact

I’m kinda sad at the fact that a lot of people are quick to hate, judge, and scrutinise Hoyo without understanding the situation.

With recent teaser of Natlan characters, people are rightfully upset at the fact that the characters shown to hail from Natlan… don’t exactly look the part. With characters lighter than my own skin tone (I’m a Chinese Southeast Asian by the way, heya) people are calling hoyo bullshit and accusing them of being a racist for failing time and time again at giving us characters with POC shades of skin. Now I’m not here to defend Mihoyo for their actions, or to tell you to stop being mad at the situation being the way they are. No, I’m here to shed you some light of how life is as a game company under the rule of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and Xin Jin Ping (XJP cause I won’t be bothered to type his whole ass name)

I've highlighted points of each section

Any pages that requires translations, I recommend using DeepL instead of google translate because you can check the meanings of specific words and it's translation are better (imo)

Skip to the last part if you just want a summarised version

Before we get into the nitty gritty that is Genshin drama, I'll give you a run-down on what and how China works.

check the part "In relation to Genshin's design choices and how China's beauty standard influences it" if you want to go straight on to the point

People’s Republic of China

is a Unitary Marxist–Leninist one-party socialist republic. This means that China is under a one-party (Chinese Communist Party) rule with communism ideology on how they rule and govern the country and socialist standards for how they manage their economy and everything else. [.]

The CCP holds a very nationalistic view

[.] which is commonly used as propaganda [.] for them to garner either sympathy or control over the people of China. These nationalistic view, in its raw and most rudest form, simply states that Chinese people are pure by upholding traditional Chinese culture (that's not even traditionally Chinese, more or less more catered towards communism and the CCP's ideologies which are that they're great and everyone else is wrong) and not mixing themselves or tainting themselves with things that are not pure (i.e. anything that isn't Chinese, from China, belongs to China) This nationalistic views, which glorifies China and detests anything foreign (i.e. culture, language, people, etc.) have led to a lot of xenophobia being built and nurtured inside of China's society [1] [2] [3]

Aside from the CCP's nationalistic views,

China's society is very censored and monitored by the CCP

[.] Google, YouTube, or more specifically, the internet itself is heavily banned by the government, electing the people to use the CCP's private internet that allows them to be monitored 24/7 through IP location and private information. [1] [2] [3] [4] Aside from heavily monitored and controlled internet access, people in the real world are also actively being watched and monitored through CCTV with facial recognition features and an AI that can predict people's action (yes, exactly like the akasha, and yes, Sumeru arc is based on reality, I won't talk about it here but feel free to read between the lines and compare it with the sources and news articles I'm about to drop on you) [1] [2. Behind paywall] [3] [4] [5]

With its censorship in mind, let us talk about what brings us all here:

the gaming censorship in China.

In order for a game to be published in China, whether it's made by an indie or a multi-billion dollar company, the game has to go through a complicated preliminary test made and assigned by the CCP to play, test, and go through your game before publishing it anywhere in Chinese media [.] This test includes you company's paperwork, your game's paperwork, the things you're displaying in your game, and the story it's trying to tell. There are not that many rules on what should and should not appear inside of your game, such as: polyamory, the undead (in both graphic and non-graphic manner), etc. That should be considered tame and should cause no problem, however, we do have a problem with one of the rule given which is: Emphasizing Cultural Sensitivity.

Emphasizing Cultural Sensitivity

in the article I've mentioned before, describes it as "Games should impart “correct” information on politics, law, and history, as interpreted by the authorizing agency." Now what does "correct" information entail? Who fucking knows because truth is relative. Facts, when in the eyes of the CCP, are relative to what they believe is to be right and what they want us to believe is right.

Now with that out of the way, let us get into the main deal.

MiHoYo

(not to be confused with Hoyoverse/Cognosphere which is their international branch) is a is a Chinese video game development and publishing company, founded by three classmates from university Cai Haoyu, Liu Wei, and Luo Yuhao [.] That means that Genshin Impact's development, ever since it was at its infancy, first-established days, and updates until the near future, are all subjected onto that game censorship law that I mentioned earlier. Now you might all be wondering, what does all of those rules have to do with genshin characters having dark skins? To that I point you towards the fact that MiHoYo and the CCP are and have been actively working together ever since around September 2021. [1] [2]

Cooperation between MiHoYo and the CCP

Ever since Genshin Impact's massive hit both nationally and internationally, its massive fanbase has hit the internet no one has ever seen before. It is the first ever Chinese game that has gotten world wide acclaim and with that, new eyes begin to look upon China. It is no surprise to anyone that Genshin is very particular about showing and promoting Chinese culture to the outside world. Genshin has somehow become the face to Chinese culture in just a year, with limited events such as Lantern Rite and Moonchase festival to showcase China's cultural beauty. With world-wide acclaim comes a price, wherein the CCP no longer treats Genshin as "another game" but a tool that they can use to promote and advertise themselves into the global population.

Begin the censorship and micro-manipulation of things in Genshin

New gaming censorship dropped after the Genshin Impact became a hit in the industry, with even Venti and Gorou as examples of characters that should not appear in media published in China (effeminate man) [.] In additional to the list I've linked in the "the gaming censorship in China" section, a lot more additional rules have been added to that list, such as: queer representation, morally grey character, but I what I want you to look at more is the section where "historical elements, including characters, maps and clothing, should conform with mainstream accounts." in addition to that, a self-regulation pact was made between game companies and the CCP that bans any and all content that is deemed "politically harmful" and "historically nihilistic." Now focus more onto that "historically nihilistic" point, what does that mean?

Historical nihilism

is a term used by the CCP and many Chinese scholars to describe research or discussions deemed to contradict an official state version of history in a manner perceived to question or challenge the legitimacy of the CCP [.] TLDR; it's a term used for when what you're saying clashes or goes against what the CCP said. Why is this important you may ask? It's because that now, at this point, if anything Genshin does something—whether that'd be plotline, design etc.—that the CCP thinks shouldn't exist or be represented, they have the lawful right to block or stop it from reaching the final product. Now this, this is what happened to Genshin's Sumeru and Natlan cast.

In relation to Genshin's design choices and how China's beauty standard influences it

white has always been a predominant part of modern Chinese beauty culture, for some reason (I don't know and I'm not going to go that deep into it, research it on your own if you're curious) In fact, it's not only China but also Asian culture in general. White skin has always been hailed as pure and beautiful here in Asia, where the line "as pale as the moon" is a common compliment to give to someone. Skin colour that are tan or even darker are connected to being dirty or stinky. Despite the younger generation not really adhering to that view, the older generation (calling out the CCP here) upholds that standard till this day. Pin straight hair, round eyes, pale white skin, and a thin figure are the standards put upon those born as female. Their male counterpart are not that different, with lean and fit being the preferred body type rather than big muscles or bulky forms.

The reason behind why this is the case is because of Asia's strict social code in rules and appearances. We must appear prim and clean, that means no dyed hair, no tattoos, no piercings, and minimal make-up. Anyone that goes against those rules are regarded as delinquents or deviants that usually break the rules and do criminal activities (despite it not being the case) Having a bulky stature also applies to that list, regardless of what gender you are, and especially for men. You're regarded as dangerous, criminal, bad influence if you look like that in public (this is why we don't have that much bulky characters gang and why we were robbed of heavy muscles Itto orz) (he deffo was very bulky in the original design, probably similar to the Nobushi but it got nerfed in final product)

Given all of that in mind, it's no wonder that Sumeru's and and Natlan's casts are mostly white... but were they always that way?

The original skin colour design for Natlan cast might've been darker than what we have in the final product.

As a lot of people have mentioned (especially with the many beautiful edits I'm very fond of) the character designs for Natlan's new up-coming rosters looks better with darker skin tone. Take for examples this edit right here:

taken from @ rarepairz on twitter [source]

Their designs (with darker skin tones) seem to pop more, giving highlights onto their clothes and accessories in comparison to the original design. Here are more examples of this happening:

taken from @ Wabs_nabs on twitter [source]

It is especially clear to anyone with basic colour theory that the colour used for designing the clothes and accessories and highlights in the hair look better with darker skin colour. There is *intent* on making it this way in comparison to woeful ignorance of making them look white as hell. If they were to intentionally to make the characters look white, they would've chosen a better colour for the clothes, less bolder ones and eye-popping ones to contrast with the already luminescent light that's emitting from the skin.

And this is not the case for only Natlan, by the way! The same thing happened when the Sumeru cast was first leaked. Case in point this:

taken from @ animuswonder on twitter [source]

and my personal art of Cyno and Nari:

Look at how much contrast there is between their colour palette or how much resonance there is, with Cyno his more cold-colour attire and hair, in comparison to his deep dark warm skin or Tighnari that's the epitome of a "spring girl" like come on man. There's INTENT in those designs, to have more darker shades than they are in the game. Sadly, they just can't do it due to censorships. Why? Because, as I have mentioned before, darker shades of skin are represented as dirt here in Asia as we glorify pale skin more.

The representation of uniqueness and differences in Chinese game is not common due the fact that most Asian countries are homogenous, which means they prefer everyone and everything to be the same, to look the same, and follow and do the same things. They do not advocate for uniqueness, they do not advocate for individuality, they advocate for us to conform and to follow like a sheep in a herd. Because of that, most people spend their whole life trying to whiten up their skin, keeping them light, and those who are darker than most are shown prejudiced and scrutinised.

Mentioning again the fact that MiHoYo and the CCP are working closely together, Genshin Impact is currently being used as a cultural weapon by the government. With MiHoYo showing numerous time that they've donate and support Chinese cultural heritage, the CCP is using that fact and holding control over Genshin as a way to promote and advertise sympathy towards Chinese culture and the Communist regime by proxy. It's like how your parents are getting you to eat broccoli brownies in hopes that you'd eat normal broccolis and other vegetables by proxy. Everything and anything that Genshin shows in its game are now under close inspections of the CCP and colourism especially will not fly-by their radar.

In conclusion

Your anger and hatred towards the new characters’ designs are justified, however the person you aim those anger and hatred should not be towards Mihoyo, or Liu Wei, or any of the staff members but towards the situation and the laws and the local government MiHoYo has to adhere to.

We're already lucky to have MiHoYo even wanting to represent and shpw different cultures from different parts of the world, telling us engaging stories, and incentivising us to think more and to be be more of us instead of following the crowd and to judge those in power (if you are literate and have the ability of a 6th grader, you know the theme Genshin Impact is showing in its story). In a world where they aren't able to live as freely as people outside of mainland do, they shouldn't have to put their life at risk by creating a game that goes against the CCP's laws that will lead to a deduction to their social points (yes, those actually exist, WAKE UP). Yet they do, they update every month, telling stories, creating characters with many characteristics that goes against Chinese gaming laws, just for us to enjoy.

Do NOT accuse people of being racist just because your skin colour cannot be found in a game. Learn to know that people don't live in the same situation as you.

You are right to be mad, you are right to be upset, but do not condemn them for something they hold no power to. It's between their lives and your fantasies and if you choose to value your delusion over their livelihood then that just shows what kind of a person you are.

Where's this conviction towards other game companies aside from MiHoYo? Where's the rightful air when it comes to companies that breathe much fresher air? Do they not have the same responsibility? Or is it because you actually do not care and merely want to point your unbridled emotions towards something or someone? If so, you're pointing at the wrong person.

#genshin impact #genshin natlan #natlan #zei's rant

524 notes · View notes

mizgnomer · 4 months ago

Text

Behind the Scenes of the Thirteenth-to-Fourteenth Doctor Regeneration in Power of the Doctor - Part One

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's article in DWM #584:

Across the studio, executive producer Phil Collinson, director Rachel Talalay, and a growing number of crew members are huddled around a laptop. What are they watching? Rachel motions for David and DWM to join them. “I want to show you Jodie’s half of the regen,” she says. “Ooh yes, please,” says David. “This is exciting, isn’t it?” But secrecy is paramount. “What I also wanted to show you, David, is the few minutes leading up to it –” “But I’m not allowed to see?” David finds this very funny. Rachel presses play. We watch the Thirteenth Doctor’s final 45 seconds. “There she is!” exclaims David, as Jodie steps out of the TARDIS onto a rocky peak – the sea ahead of her, the sun starting to rise. “On a clifftop??” Phil looks on approvingly. “This is unusual,” he says. “Blimmin’ hell.” “It’s beautiful,” adds David. [...] Rachel’s last work on the series was the Twelfth Doctor’s 2017 swansong, Twice Upon a Time – which ended with Jodie’s very first scene. Having midwifed the Thirteenth, Rachel has returned to see in the Fourteenth, directing today’s regeneration and the first 2023 Special. “I am so lucky I get to do this,” she says. “That I get to re-regenerate David Tennant is phenomenal. I was already incredibly interested in returning. Just the fact that Russell was coming back was enough. When I was told it was David too, that took me to a whole other level.” In studio, on Rachel’s laptop, Jodie has finished regenerating. (David: “That’s all we’re getting? I want to know what happens next!”) Cut to black and an on-screen caption: “Over to you, Russell!” Rachel runs David through her camera moves. “We don’t want to pull out on Jodie, then keep pulling out on you. We want to push in on Jodie, so we want to reverse this shot, push in as the morph starts, your clothes disintegrate –” David: “Uh huh.” Rachel: “– and by the time we get into the final position, it’ll be fully you. Everyone will be like, ‘Holy wow! I thought this would be Ncuti Gatwa.’ And then, David, it’s over to you. Tell us what you want to do.” “Exactly the same as I did last time?” “Sure. Why not.” [...] On set, David is taking a selfie with the TARDIS. “I’ve got to send Jodie this,” he says, gleefully. “I’m texting her and sending her pictures, because obviously she isn’t here, but she’s my mate, and we’ve got her on a screen to line me up…”

Future posts this set will be available in the #whoBtsPower tag. The full episode behind-the-scenes list is [ here ]

#doctor who #david tennant #jodie whittaker #the power of the doctor #whoBtsPower #rtdedit #rachel talalay #I know losing a doctor is always sad #but something about david's joy in sharing it with her #and the fact that they are mates #makes me happy #stuff i posted #whoBts #dwm #doctor who magazine #benjamin cook

172 notes · View notes

tmwcs · 7 months ago

Text

PART ONE

Warnings: Nothing unusual to report…not yet. Just references from the last two fairy tales posted in Masterlist. This includes the teaser posted two days ago. If you’ve read the teaser, skip through until you see the red text. That’s where the additional part of the story continues.

“Young girl in the local area is the second to disappear without a trace. Authorities are on high alert and encourage all women to remain at home and avoid traveling alone.”

You click on the abrupt notification–the article details the two young women who vanished within the last six months. The first girl disappeared while traveling and visiting her grandmother’s house and another was on her way to a job interview at the local library, but never made it. The strange occurrences had everyone panicking and adhering to the extreme measures to avoid their daughters from being the next to abruptly disappear.

“Y/N, take the car and drop your sister off at her friend’s house.” your mother urges. Your younger sister was around the same age as the young girls who had disappeared, so it became understandable why her safety was paramount. Of course you weren’t excluded from concern, however, being that you were older and already on your way to finishing up your college education, it’s presumed that you were in the clear. At least that’s what the authorities stated in their public announcements.

“Take her, make sure you watch her enter the house before you drive off. Then come right back here, understand?” your mother’s strict orders were firm and left no room for argument. “Fine.” you answered quietly. Running errands and dropping off your younger sibling always came with the same warnings and specific instructions–nothing out of the ordinary.

The drive wasn’t terribly far–around twenty minutes. Sometimes you wonder why your family decided to reside in the suburbs–so far from the city. Wouldn’t it have been better had they considered moving closer? Considering that both your parents place of employment and your younger sister’s school, it would be so much more convenient had they found a neighborhood much closer.

“I feel so sorry for that girl–you know?”

Her voice interrupts your thoughts as you delicately come to a stop at the red light. “Are you talking about the one that just disappeared?”

“Yeah. She was so pretty too, just like the first one.” her voice was soft and tender, and just like those girls, your precious younger sibling couldn’t be excluded from the list of potential victims. No wonder your parents were always so concerned over her staying late for after school activities. With her traditional beauty and delicate frame, she was every kidnapper's dream.

Pulling up the driveway, you followed your mother’s instructions as ordered. Checking your phone, you send a text out to notify your parents that you both made it at the sleepover, when your sister's phone screen abruptly is placed in front of you, followed by a small giggle.

“What is that?” you sharply questioned, a slight annoyance accompanies your tone. “Isn’t it cute? I took it earlier today.”

Being the prankster that she was, it was no surprise that you became a pawn in your sister’s line of mischievous acts. “So uncool. Erase that.”

“Oh come on! I took it because you looked so pretty. You know, everyone always says the same thing–even in high school. Remember all those times you napped during the lunch hour? Everyone always said that you looked so pretty whenever you slept. Guess that’s why they always called you that name, huh?”

You let out a tiring sigh. “Yeah, I guess so.” it was true–the nickname stuck with you even all through college when your friends carried the name over. They would always ask you in jest why you slept so often, and you wish you had an answer for them, but you never could come up with one. You don't know why–all your life you just felt so tired. Your pondering thoughts are interrupted once more when you hear your sister thanking you for the ride.

“Alright, Sleeping Beauty! Thanks for dropping me off! Love you!”

………

The twenty minute drive back seemed much longer than before. Perhaps you’re just tired—all the assignments and study sessions were probably getting to you. You pull up and notice the other car gone. Did your parents go out?

You walk in and took the precautionary measures to lock the door behind. A small note is left propped on the dinner table, addressed to you:

‘Y/N, dinner is in the oven. Your dad and I went out to see some old friends—we will be back later. Love, mom.’

Well, there are worse things than to have an entire house all to yourself. The peaceful and quiet atmosphere was a pleasant contrast from the cyclic ruckus you grew to block out. For once, it was nice to not walk around with headphones and enjoy the stale sound of silence. Yet, it would appear you spoke too soon—your phone rings. Noticing the number, you answer half heartedly “hey girl.”

Your best friend answers with a myriad of giggles and knavery tone. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“We have a few transfer students that came in and all of them are going to be at Jess’s party tonight. You coming?”

You sigh. “No, don’t think I will. I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired!” Your best friend berates in disappointment. “Come on! At least look at the photo I just sent! They��re gorgeous!”

You spare a half glance at the photo and saw a group of young men posing for a photo. “I can’t—I still have to finish some things and I really am so tired.”

“Fine! You’re no fun but I still love you.” She giggles as she bids you goodbye. The last bit of her words replayed in echoes as you eeee taken back to a time in high school where she said the very same thing before…

‘…You’re no fun, but I still love you.’

You’re quite certain your friend recalls the events that occurred afterwards, when she left you at the theater after you denied her invitation to skip out on class and to attend a social gathering. You had rejected her offer and remained in the projection room to nap for an hour before your next class began. That was when you had the strangest dream. Remnants of that moment came back like pieces of a puzzle when you recalled that time —the dream was vivid and felt so real. A figure walking up and presenting a beautiful red rose—doing so delicately as to not wake you. It was as if you err watching a grainy film as you witnessed the happenings—from him laying the flower in your hand, stroking your hair, and kissing your forehead. The strangest bit was when you awoke for your next class, a rose was within your grasp. Yet, the projection room remained locked from the inside, leaving no margin for entry to anyone from the outside. Yet, still…no matter how many times you brushed it off, each moment you come back to that memory it just made you feel like something…something was—

*ring ring*

Your phone rings and you view the screen. You didn’t recognize the number so you ignored the call. The caller didn’t leave a voice message either, probably a scam call. You’ve been getting a lot of them lately.

Other than the two phone calls, your night was rather peaceful. You ate a light dinner and figured it would be best to start your reading materials before it gets too late. Washing the dishes, you scrubbed your plate in soapy water. The surface read covered by foamy bubbles, leaving the bottom elusive. A sharp prick stings the tip of your index finger, causing you to quickly retract your hand from the depths of the warm water. “What the hell?!”

You run the faucet on and rinse the wound under the fluid motion of the lukewarm stream and notice a single red dot. You drained the sink and didn’t notice any broken glass or dishes—what did you poke your finger on?

As the last remnants of soap and bubble spiral down the drain, your eyes caught on to something foreign from the steel background. Was that a…

“…a thorn?”

Your mind was boggled by the existence of a single rose thorn inside the sink. Strange. You held the thorn in hand and studied it for a second before your phone rang once more. It was your mother.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, I’m just checking in. Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

You remain somewhat calm as you ponder about the thorn while hearing your mother rant about locking all the doors and windows. “Yeah, got it. Hey mom—“

You quickly catch her before she starts to say her goodbye. “Did you get roses or something?”

“Oh yes—for our friends. I went to the store and grabbed a small bouquet, why?”

You rolled your eyes out of relief and suddenly found the entire situation comical. “Nothing. I just saw a rose thorn in the sink.”

“Oh yes, I had rinsed them in the sink and put them in a vase. Be Careful when washing dishes.”

“Yeeeeah.” Your tone was sarcastic but she didn’t seem to catch on. Instead, she bid you farewell and you both hang up.

Placing the phone down, you felt a wave of fatigue hit you abruptly. Normally you felt tired and lethargic, but never have you felt extremely exhausted so suddenly. Your eyesight became dizzy—your body starts to feel weak. “What the hell…is…”

You couldn’t understand where this sudden sensation of fatigue came from. It’s as overwhelming and nearly took over your entire body—to the point where you found it hard to stand. It was as if you were punched by the sandman. You stumble your way up the stairs—leaning against the bannister on your way up.

Tired…so tired…too tired.

Marching up, you finally reached your bedroom and plopped yourself atop your bed. The mixture of cool and warm temperatures overwhelm you as the texture of the linen absorbs your body heat—the cotton fabric comforting you. Drifting off, you only lasted seconds upon laying down when everything suddenly goes to black.

So sleepy…

Part Two

Taglist: @strxwbloody • @nshmrarki • @aquariushiiiii • @addictedtohobi • @nuriicata • @lilyuwon • @aanniikkaa •

#jay imagines #enha jay #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #jay x reader #yandere enhypen #yandere enha #Jay yandere #yahdere enhypen imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut

168 notes · View notes

avonnimimi · 4 months ago

Text

Ruin Me

➽───❥ The Series. Part: 1 |

☥| a/n: Hi my babies! i know i keep starting series and never finish them but i can’t focus on one thing for too long, i promise ill get to the others soon. Got the idea from this pretty girl @shoyoist you should go check out her work! MEN AND MINORS DNI

☥| content: boxer!Vi, journalist!reader, porn with a plot, obsession, lesbian sex, strap (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), squirting, petnames (princess, baby, doll, good girl), overstimulation (r!receiving), stone top!Vi, upcoming toxic relationship. lmk if i missed anything!

Your first glimpse of her in the ring was something out of a fever dream. Violet, they called her. An up-and-coming boxer, a force of nature in the brutal ballet of the ring. Your job, a lowly intern at a prestigious journalism corporation, was to document her ascent, to dissect her every move, to capture the essence of this enigmatic fighter.

Notebook clutched in your hand, you sat ringside, the energy of the crowd a palpable hum around you. Your pen scratched across the page, capturing the raw power of her form, the way her muscles coiled and flexed, the almost feral intensity in her eyes. The way she moved, each punch a symphony of controlled fury, each breath a ragged gasp of barely contained rage. It was mesmerizing, terrifying, beautiful.

Your gaze lingered on the intricate ink that adorned her back, a story told in lines and shadows. Her eyes, dark and smoldering, held a depth of resentment that both intrigued and unsettled you. You felt a pull, a strange, inexplicable yearning to understand the source of her anger, the fire that burned within her.

She won three fights that night, each victory more brutal than the last. Afterwards, you were ushered into a small, sterile room, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and sweat. Violet sat across from you, her movements economical, her gaze distant. You watched, transfixed, as she unwrapped her hands, the stained cloth wiping away the blood that trickled from her nose.

You cleared your throat, the sound fragile in the charged silence. "Hello, Violet," you began, the click of your pen a nervous counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. "Since this is our first interview, I won't be asking any questions. Just say what's on your mind, yeah?" You offered a tentative smile, hoping to ease the palpable tension in the room.

Her eyes, finally meeting yours, held a warmth that belied the icy exterior. They were consuming, drawing you in, holding you captive in their depths. You felt the weight of her anger, the raw, untamed power of it, and instead of fear, you felt a strange sense of fascination, a desperate need to understand.

"My name is Vi," she muttered, her voice low and rough, each syllable a brushstroke against your already frayed nerves. Then, without another word, she rose and left, the door slamming shut behind her with a force that made you jump. You bit your lip, the taste of blood mingling with the metallic tang in the air. You had four words. Four words to show for your efforts. You were going to be in trouble.

But those four words, My name is Vi, resonated within you, a secret whispered in the darkness. They were a key, a starting point, a promise of something more.

That night, you lost yourself in the labyrinthine depths of the internet, searching for any scrap of information about this enigmatic woman. Articles painted a fragmented picture: a shadowy manager named Silco, a missing sister, a recently ended relationship with some polished, uptown woman. The images, though, those held you captive. Her unwavering stance, the defiant tilt of her chin, the messy dark hair, the full, sensual lips… You scrolled and clicked, each image, each article, fueling the growing obsession that burned within you. You wanted to know her anger. You needed to know her.

The next morning, you were reprimanded, your paltry four words deemed insufficient. They sent you back to the arena, back to the source of your burgeoning obsession.

This time, Vi was different. Distracted, her movements less precise, her focus fragmented. She still won, her raw power undeniable, but the fire in her eyes seemed dimmed, banked by some unseen force.

The post-fight interview was a repeat of the first. Vi sat across from you, her legs spread wide, her scowl etched deep into her features. The aggressive posture, strangely, made you blush.

"Hello, Vi. Good match today," you offered, your practiced smile faltering slightly under her intense scrutiny. "I have a few questions for you today."

She didn't respond, her eyes raking over you, assessing, analyzing, trying to decipher the meaning behind your words.

"How many matches have you won since you started four years ago?" The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the click of your pen and the soft hum of the air conditioner.

You almost repeated the question, fearing she hadn't heard you, but then, her voice, rough and gravelly, filled the small space. "Ninety-three."

You scribbled down the number, your hand trembling slightly. God, she's beautiful, you thought, the realization a sharp pang in your chest.

"Which opponent have you struggled with?" you asked, your gaze flitting between your notepad and her eyes.

She was watching you, her breath steady, her expression unreadable. She had fewer cuts and bruises than last time. A part of you, a small, desperate part, ached to reach out, to tend to her wounds, to soothe the ache in her jaw.

"None of them," she answered, her tone flat, devoid of emotion.

You nodded, dutifully recording her words, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. Fuck, she's hot.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the question that had been burning in your mind since you'd stepped into the arena. "Why did you look so distracted today?" The words were barely a whisper, but you knew she'd heard them.

She stared at you, her expression blank, unreadable. You waited, your heart pounding against your ribs, unsure what to do, what to say.

And then, just like last time, she got up and left.

You returned to work the next day, a newfound confidence bolstering the lingering ache in your muscles. The fleeting praise from your superiors was a mere distraction from the all consuming obsession that had taken root – Vi. She was a constant presence in your thoughts, a phantom limb you yearned to touch, understand, possess.

Two weeks later, you were drawn back to the arena. Anticipation thrummed through you, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Vi's entrance was delayed, her opponent pacing restlessly, unaware of the impending storm.

When she finally emerged, your breath hitched. The controlled intensity you'd previously witnessed was gone, replaced by raw, untamed energy. Her eyes blazed with a feverish violet light, pupils dilated, focus fractured. Adrenaline fueled her, her movements sharper, more frenetic, each exhalation a visible plume of heat in the cool arena air.

The fight was a brutal ballet of controlled chaos. Her punches landed with devastating force, radiating palpable heat. She was a predator toying with prey, movements deceptively languid, lulling her opponent before unleashing a flurry of devastating blows. She fought only one opponent that day, leaving him shattered in her wake.

The wait in the sterile room was agonizing, anticipation curdling into restless frustration. When Vi finally arrived, a half-hour late, a dissonant grin stretched across her face, jarring against the vacant, unfocused look in her eyes.

"Hey, princess," she drawled, her voice rough, laced with a playful edge that didn't reach the depths of her gaze. "What kinda bullshit questions y'gonna ask me today?" She sprawled across from you, legs spread wide, a brazen display of dominance. Her presence filled the small space, sending a shiver of desire down your spine. Her eyes flickered downwards, acknowledging her effect on you.

"Are you on something?" you asked, genuine concern lacing your voice, your notebook forgotten.

She shook her head slowly, then let it fall back against the chair with a groan. "Y'know you're pretty when you try to analyze my fighting," she murmured, her words a caress against your raw nerves. The realization that she'd been watching you watch her sent a wave of heat through you. "But is that the only thing you watch me for?" Her eyes, slightly lidded, met yours, their intensity stealing your breath.

She rose, fluid and predatory, and stood before you, gripping your jaw, tilting your head up. Her thumb traced your bottom lip, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Your wide, innocent eyes locked with hers.

"I know when pretty things like you want something," she whispered, her voice low and husky, a promise and a threat. "And I can give that to you."

You couldn't answer, your voice trapped, but she wasn't wrong. She'd seen through you. You wanted her with a desperate hunger. You wanted to unravel her enigma, feel her heat, drown in her gaze.

And that's how you found yourself in her apartment, on her bed, her body a weight against yours in a mean mating press. She moved with controlled ferocity, her hands mapping your body, her lips leaving a trail of fire. The pleasure was sharp, intense, her voice a constant murmur of praise and encouragement, pushing you further into the abyss of sensation.

Her fingers teased your nipples, drawing moans, while her tongue traced a path down your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. With each thrust, she whispered encouragement, her voice a dark melody against your skin. You cried out her name, your pleas mingling with her moans, the world narrowing to the feel of her joined with you, her hot breath on your skin. She was a force of nature, muscles tense and powerful, eyes dark and consuming.

"Good girl, baby," she growled, her hand tightening around your throat, the pressure a delicious counterpoint to the building pleasure. "Don't needa think about anything but this dick."

"Fuck, Vi," you moaned, the words torn from you, met with a deeper, harder thrust that sent pleasure crashing through you.

The intensity spiraled towards a blinding crescendo. She whispered promises, her voice a siren song.

"Yeahhh, you take it so well f'me," she panted, voice thick with desire. "Gonna make you cream all over my cock."

And you did. You came hard and fast, convulsing around her. But she didn't stop. She kept moving, pushing you further, the pleasure shifting, changing, almost painful.

"W-wait...Vi, it feels...nnggh...feels weird..." you gasped, the unfamiliar sensation a ripple of fear.

She silenced you with a deep, possessive kiss, then whispered, "Don't worry, pretty doll. Been takin' it like such a good girl. Gonna make you cum so hard. Wanna cum f'me?"

You nodded frantically, desperate pleas escaping your bruised lips.

She rode the waves of your pleasure, pushing you past the edge again and again. She filled you completely, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with her thrusts, sending you spiraling. She pulled out, then slammed back in, the pressure change triggering another orgasm. You squeezed around her, and a jet of your own arousal spurted out, slickening her stomach. "Fuck, you squirtin’ for me, princess?" she growled, the sound a mixture of surprise and possessiveness.

When your spasms subsided, but your pussy still throbbed, she pulled out, her fingers immediately diving between your folds. She curled and pumped, her touch expert and relentless, even as your overstimulated nerves screamed in protest. "Not done yet, pretty girl," she murmured, her voice rough with desire. "Gonna make you cum again." She stretched your slick walls, her fingers mimicking the rhythm of her cock, building the pressure until you were squirting again, crying out her name incoherently. This time, she lowered her head, her tongue lapping up your release, her moans a counterpoint to your cries.

Finally, spent and sated, she cleaned you up, dressed you, and took you home, leaving you with the throbbing ache between your legs and the ghost of her touch. Your notebook remained empty, journalistic ambitions forgotten in the raw, consuming desire. You had learned nothing about Vi, the fighter, but everything about Vi, the woman. And you craved more.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

130 notes · View notes

stardust-thief · 5 months ago

Text

meet cute

an: this is not very spiderman-esque + it kinda sucks😭 but i have brainworms im thinking of so many ways the bau cld be part of this au

synopsis: your best friend, penelope garcia, gets you to meet spencer reid, who unbeknowest to you is seceretly spiderman, 1.7k words

cw: just fluffy meet cute, a little rossi slander im sorry, mentions of tobias hankel but its pre-lizard, bc tobias hankel is the lizard in this au, not proofread at all

masterlist

“Pen, are you sure this is a good idea?” Your best friend, Penelope Garcia, whom you loved with all your heart, was meddling again. She had taken notice of the fact that you are a workaholic and would prefer to spend your days researching for your newest article, than literally anything else. Deciding this was completely against the criteria to be friends with her, she has taken you to meet some of her friends. Namely, Spencer Reid. You didn’t know much about Spencer other than the fact that he was a great photographer and an even greater nerd. Said affectionately, you literally do nothing but work, how nerdier can you be.

“Are you kidding me? This is a perfect idea! Both you and Spencer are basically hermits, my thinking is that two hermits cancel out each other's hermit-ness and you’ll both bloom into beautiful social butterflies! Maybe I’ll finally get to see my best friends outside for once. Or maybe that’s too big an ask.” She grabbed your arm to make sure you couldn’t back out last minute, and all but dragged you into the little cafe you were supposed to meet this elusive Spencer at.

The cafe wasn't one you familiar with, preferring to stick with the one adjoined to the Daily Bugle building. This one had booths lining the walls, and a vast glass counter full of the most delicious pastries you’ve ever seen. The one at the Daily Bugle served only stale bagels, and made you sit in those hellish latticed garden chairs that do no good things for your comfort.

You watch as Penelope’s hawk eyes scan the cafe, “ok so, he’s not here yet. I promise you he hates being late, just sometimes something will just come up and- he’ll show up! Go get a seat, I’ll order something for us.”

“Ok, I can do that.” You say as you turn to move towards an open booth seat. Penelope was a generally anxious person, this was something you've grown used to after knowing her for so long. But whatever that was back at the counter was a lot more anxious than strictly necessary. True, being late to a first meeting was not a good first impression. Also true that the later he is, the later you will be in getting back to the office, meaning another late night working to finish your article. But it's not the end of the world! Yet!

Penelope interrupted your doom-thinking by placing a tray full of various coffees and pastries on the table. “I got your favourite,” she says as she pushes the warm coffee towards you and sits on the opposite side of the booth, “I wasn’t sure which pastry to get so I got… many.”

“Many is a word I would use, yeah… It’s fine Pen, we can all just take some home. Have you heard anything from your friend?”

She gives her patented dramatic sigh, “Ugh, Boy Wonder says he’s on his way. Wait, forget I called him that. Spencer Reid is on his way, he says he apologises for his tardiness.”

A loud bang catches your attention as a tall man, who looks like he’s ran a marathon to get here, slams the door to the cafe open a little too hard, rattling the wall decor and capturing the attention of literally every person in the shop. You watch as his eyes sheepishly scan the room until they land on Penelope. He gives an equally sheepish wave and hurries to sit down next to Penelope.

“Spencer, what the hell was that?” Penelope mutters, and you watch as they devolve in an argument at the volume of mice. You sit there awkwardly, sipping at your coffee as you wait for them to remember you’re there.

“Ok, Spencer!” Penelope starts, “this is my friend, who has been waiting here very patiently, might I add.”

Spencer’s eyes turn to meet yours, his eyes are a warm and deep brown that reminds you of coffee. You notice the slight bloodshot twinge he has, and the dark, heavy bags that sit under them. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in at least 2 weeks, leaving strong stubble clinging to his lower face.

Out of habit, you raise your hand to shake his and introduce yourself, “Hi Spencer.” It takes a moment for him to realise you have your hand raised, and he rushes to meet it.

“Hi, I’m really so sorry for being late, that was so rude of me, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” you hear Penelope give a mocking laugh as if to say ‘you never apologise to me like this'. Ignoring her, you notice that his hands are calloused and rough, littered with small bruises and nicks that leave you questioning how they got there. Noticing this he's quick to retract his hand, “sorry, I work in a lab so I get all kinds of cuts from the machines. Um, what do you do?”

“I work as an investigative journalist for the Daily Bugle.” The Bugle has a bit of a reputation due to its owner, D. Rossi, who is known to be an avid anti-spiderman fanatic and is constantly making up theories to defraud and belittle him. But you’re too proud of your work to let something like that stop you from talking about it. At the mention of the newspaper, however, you watch as Spencer shoulders tense up and he shoots a sidelong glance at Penelope.

“The Daily Bugle! Yeah, I used to send in my photographs for them sometimes.” Spencer breathes out.

“Really? What articles were they published in, I might’ve seen them!”

“No um, Rossi kept rejecting them so I never got them published.”

Oh. Good job. “Yeah, he can be a bit tough sometimes. I’d love to have a look at your work, maybe I can try and get something published along with my articles?” You offered this as a nicety, but you’re also genuinely curious to see what kind of work he’s done.

“That would be really nice actually, I’d appreciate it. What are you working on now?”

“An article on the research Dr Hankel is doing at Oscorp, he’s taking lizard DNA and attempting to splice it with human DNA to modify our genes. He’s hoping it can help humans regenerate lost limbs the same way lizards can. It’s fascinating stuff, but I don’t think it could work.” Especially seeing as Dr Hankel seems to have about 12 screws loose, interviewing him was not one of your preferred research activities.

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard about that. My boss at the lab says it could be amazing if it works. It just has to work first.” He chuckles and begins picking apart the pastry in front of him. “So, you don’t agree with Rossi’s whole anti-Spiderman tirade?”

You hum, “not really. I mean, I think Spiderman is doing a great thing by helping protect the people of this city, but I also think he has a lot to answer for in terms of damage to properties, and livelihoods. But I definitely don’t think he deserves the scrutiny he gets from Rossi. Without him, what would New York do?”

He visibly relaxes at that, maybe he’s just a Spiderman super fan, there are probably worse things a person could be. You all get wrapped up in conversation and fail to notice the hours passing by until a worker comes up to your table and lets you know it’s nearly closing time.

“God, we’ve been here all day. I need to get back to work, finish my article before my deadline tomorrow.” You say, rushing to stand up and leave. Spencer rushes to stand up with you.

“You’re working overnight? Surely that can’t be safe.”

“It’ll be much less safe if I don’t hand this in to Rossi before my deadline.” You chuckle, “I’ll be fine, I’ve done the bulk of it, not much more to do now!”

“Let me walk you to your office, it’s getting dark out.” Out the corner of your eye, you see Penelope wiggle her shoulders and wink at you.

“No I can’t ask you to do that, it’s not too long of a walk.” It is such a long walk, you’re just lying. “I’ll get to the office before the moons even out, don’t worry about it. Penelope, thanks for organising this, I had a lot of fun.” She pushes out of the booth set and wraps you in a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came! It’s good to see you away from your desk for once. Don’t stay up too late, ok, go home and get some rest at an appropriate time. No later than 4am ok?” She holds you by your shoulders and looks deep into your eyes until you agree. “Good, take some of these pastries with you, you’ll need the sugar.”

“Thank you Penelope, I promise I won’t stay too late.” Pastries in hand, you turn to Spencer again. God his eyes were so deep. “It was really nice to meet you Spencer, maybe we can do this again sometime. As a group I mean, all three of us.” Real smooth! The idea of hanging out with Spencer again made you excited, but the last thing you want to do was come on to strong.

His eyes widen slightly and he rocks back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, I would love to do this again, all of us. It was lovely meeting you as well, please stay safe.”

You smile at him and turn to leave, beginning the long walk back to the offices of the Daily Bugle. The many steps in your way do nothing to stop the giddy feeling in you.

Unbeknownst to you, after Spencer walked Penelope home he slipped into a dark alley, pulled on his spider-suit, and started swinging himself across New York until he found you walking to your office. After following you from the rooftops, making sure you were safe, he noticed that you had in fact lied about how long it took you to get back to work. He made a note to ask more firmly if he could walk you back next time, especially when it was getting so late. Once you were back in the Daily Bugle, he waited and waited until you were finished with your work to escort you back home.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spiderman au #spencer reid #penelope garcia

121 notes · View notes