#this is just something I have to handle on my own
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amirasainz · 1 day ago
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What about Norris reader (17) and Oldie and Kimi Antonelli have a crush on her. Lando, ever the overprotectiv brother, doesn't like this and the other drivers use it to their advantage, because they find this really funny. Reader is just clueless and thinks the boys are really sweet to her♥️♥️
Wait, why do I ship these three??
Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!
-xoxo, babygirl 💕
Two for one
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The bustling energy of the Mexican Grand Prix electrified the air as Yn Norris wandered around the paddock, wide-eyed with excitement. Her older brother, Lando, had arranged for her to come along this weekend, and she was thrilled to be there. Being just seventeen, this was one of her first big Grand Prix weekends on her own, without her parents or siblings (except Lando) and she couldn't wait to soak it all in.
As she explored the paddock, she suddenly heard her name being called. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Kimi and Ollie, both of whom had driven in Free Practice 1 that day.
"Yn! Fancy running into you here," Ollie greeted with a wide grin.
Kimi smirked, giving her a casual wave. "So, what do you think of Mexico so far?"
Yn smiled brightly. "It’s incredible! I’m so happy Lando invited me."
"Oh, he invited you, did he?" Kimi asked with a sly grin, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Lando to pop out of nowhere.
Yn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but he’s already being overprotective. He thinks I'm going to, like, get lost or something. I just wanted to go look around by myself, but he practically assigned me a bodyguard."
Kimi and Ollie exchanged amused looks. "Well, we’re here now. So, if you need someone to show you around or keep you company, I think we can handle that," Ollie offered.
"Yeah, you’re in good hands, Yn," Kimi added with a wink.
---
A little later, Lando noticed Yn with Kimi and Ollie, and immediately, he felt his older brother senses tingling. He walked up to them with an exaggeratedly casual stride, hands stuffed in his pockets but eyes locked onto Kimi and Ollie.
"Hey, Yn," Lando greeted her, then quickly turned to Kimi and Ollie. "What are you guys up to?"
Ollie raised his hands defensively. "Just chatting with your sister, mate. Nothing serious."
Kimi chimed in, smirking slightly. "Yeah, just giving her some company. It can’t be fun to wander around here alone."
Lando narrowed his eyes. "Well, she’s not alone. I’m here."
Yn rolled her eyes. "Lando, I’m fine. You don’t have to act like I’m five."
"Yeah, Lando, she’s fine," Ollie teased, nudging Lando’s arm. "Besides, it's not like Kimi and I are troublemakers."
Max, who had been watching from nearby, wandered over, grinning as he picked up on the situation. "Oh, looks like little Norris has some admirers."
"Yeah, careful, Lando," Checo joined in, laughing as he walked by. "You know, they say these drivers are charmers. Better keep a close eye on her, or she might run off with them to Yucatan."
Lando scowled, crossing his arms. "That’s not funny, guys."
Ollie looked at Yn, feigning a wistful expression. "Yucatan, huh? That could be fun."
Yn rolled her eyes again, laughing. "Ignore them, Ollie. You’re all acting like children."
Kimi leaned closer to her. "Maybe. But you know, Yucatan does sound like a pretty great idea."
Lando stepped in between them, giving Kimi a warning look. "Don’t even think about it, Antonelli."
Kimi laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness. As much as he enjoyed teasing Lando, he could feel Lando’s big-brother protectiveness radiating off him in waves. Still, he couldn’t resist pushing a little.
"Relax, Lando," Kimi said, holding up his hands. "We’re just here to make sure Yn has a good time."
"Under my supervision," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes. He put an arm around Yn’s shoulder. "You’re staying close to me for the rest of the weekend."
Yn groaned, but Lando’s resolve didn’t waver.
---
The next day, Lando was more determined than ever to keep an eye on his sister. Every time Kimi or Ollie got close, he’d swoop in, leading her away or blocking their paths.
Eventually, Pierre caught onto the whole situation and couldn’t resist chiming in. "You know, Lando, if you keep this up, you’re going to scare away all her potential boyfriends."
Lando shook his head, exasperated. "That’s the plan, Pierre."
Carlos joined the fun, laughing. "Be careful, Lando. Vegas is just around the corner. Blink, and she might end up running off with Kimi or Ollie. Maybe even both."
Ollie, who had overheard, grinned, raising his eyebrows at Yn. "What do you think, Yn? Should we book tickets?"
Yn chuckled. "Oh, please. Lando would probably have a heart attack before we even left the airport."
Lando glared at them. "I’m serious. You two better not get any ideas, you stinky whankers."
Kimi shrugged, but his smirk didn’t fade. "Relax, mate. We’re just keeping her company."
Charles joined the group, looking thoroughly entertained. "I can’t wait for Vegas now. If this is how Lando is in Mexico, Vegas will be legendary. Maybe we’ll all get invited to Yn’s wedding."
Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You all are impossible."
---
As the weekend progressed, Kimi and Ollie kept finding small ways to get Yn’s attention. They’d save her a seat, bring her snacks, and keep her laughing with stories and jokes. Each time, Lando was there, watching like a hawk.
At one point, Yn turned to him, exasperated. "Lando, seriously. I’m just hanging out with friends. Can you please relax?"
"I am relaxed," Lando replied, not convincing anyone.
Yn shot him an annoyed look. "You’re practically breathing down my neck."
Ollie leaned in, whispering, "Told you he’s overprotective."
Kimi chuckled. "You’re handling it well, though."
Yn laughed, shaking her head. "I think it’s actually you two who are nervous around him."
Both Ollie and Kimi exchanged guilty looks, though they quickly covered it with their usual confident smiles. But every time Lando was around, they seemed to straighten up a little, wary of his watchful eyes.
---
On race day, things hit a peak. Kimi and Ollie had managed to catch Yn alone, and they were chatting animatedly about everything from their goals in racing to funny stories from the paddock. Yn was laughing, completely unaware of the fact that both boys were subtly vying for her attention.
But it didn’t take long for Lando to find them, and he wasted no time inserting himself into the conversation.
"Hey, Yn, you ready to come to the garage?" he asked pointedly.
Yn glanced at Kimi and Ollie apologetically. "Duty calls, I guess."
Ollie gave Lando a pleading look. "Come on, Lando. Let her hang out with us for a bit longer."
Lando raised an eyebrow. "Why, so you two can keep flirting with her?"
Kimi flushed, stammering, "W-We weren’t—"
Yn stared at him in surprise. "Flirting? Seriously, Lando? We’re just friends."
"Exactly," Lando said, taking her by the arm. "And that’s all you’re going to be."
Max and Charles, who had been watching the entire exchange, burst into laughter. Charles clapped Lando on the back. "Relax, Lando. You’re acting like you’re her father."
Max nodded, grinning. "Good luck keeping her under control in Vegas. Don’t be surprised if she elopes with one of them. Or both."
Lando scowled, his grip on Yn’s arm tightening slightly. "Not happening. Not on my watch."
Yn sighed, throwing Kimi and Ollie a helpless look as she was guided away. They exchanged amused, slightly nervous glances, but it was clear that they weren’t about to give up. She blew them a kiss, which both Kimi and Ollie pretended to catch. Ollie put his "kiss" to his heart while Kimi put his on his cheek.
As Yn and Lando walked off, she glanced up at her brother, shaking her head. "You know, if you keep acting like this, no one’s ever going to want to date me."
"That’s the point," Lando muttered under his breath.
Yn laughed. "You’re ridiculous."
"And I’m your older brother," he replied, smirking. "Get used to it."
Behind them, Kimi and Ollie shared a look, nodding in silent agreement. They’d have to work harder to get Yn’s attention without incurring the wrath of overprotective older brother Lando. But they weren’t about to give up. After all, Vegas was coming up soon, and as much as Lando hated to hear it, the weekend held endless possibilities.
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puppiekit · 3 days ago
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I'm not sure if this has been said before but one aspect to Warriors I literally cannot wrap my head around is that there is STILL a rule against medicine cats starting their own families, when the series has repeatedly and VERY explicitly established this rule as a BAD thing. There's just this weird disconnect between the narrative and the writing that I cannot wrap my head around.
The writers have never given us a story in which this rule has helped anybody or prevented any issue. Yet again and again they've only used this rule to establish "Literally has only ruined families and caused pain and heartbreak to our beloved characters." Yet for some reason they act like the clans still NEED this rule or...? Or what? They'll need help with their kits or something???
Like, not only does the rule have no actual benefit to the clans - as we have NEVER seen an instance in which a medicine cat having a family (under normal, socially accepted circumstance!) would seriously hurt others - but it is a rule formed from complete and utter idiocy to begin with! Not even a good reason! Like they could have given us a million different canonical stories behind why the rule exists, and they actually decided on something as stupid as.... Single teen mother with ADHD receives 0 help with her 4 kids by her entire community and cannot handle the stress....... LMFAOOO
They ACTUALLY expected us, the audience, to accept this as a valid reasoning for restricting the lives of literally every future medicine cat ever, and not an unfortunate individual circumstance. And THAT goes without even addressing the fact that Moth Flight literally just had the worst clanmates ever. The clans would never neglect to support any cat in helping to raise their kits, they are groups who rely on working together for god's sake. We literally have cats who do nothing EXCEPT help with that. And I think the writers KNOW this, so they quiet literally gave Moth Flight - specifically - the most unsupportive, idiotic clanmates ever just to excuse it. Like its actually lunacy
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alygator77 · 2 days ago
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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony ᰔᩚ
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ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader
ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.
ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse from naoya but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical)
ꨄ words: 10.5k
ꨄ a/n. hello my mhm lovelies :') i've missed writing this fic dearly! please note, this is not chapter 7—however, i will be releasing ch 7 this month. this is just a fun little side chapter with some family domesticity for the autumn season. taking place sometime after reader/satoru become official. ♡
ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)
♬ playlist
series masterlist ꨄ︎
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ch 6.5 // harvesting happiness
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As the crisp autumn air has arrived, it brings with it a feeling of change—and perhaps nature itself is subtly acknowledging just how much your life has shifted.
It’s baffling. Your time in the Gojo estate has been nothing short of eventful—and it feels like just yesterday you stood in front of Satoru, proposing an arrangement that was as unexpected as it was necessary. But now, with the leaves turning a fiery shade of red, orange, and gold, you realize just how quietly and quickly fall has crept in.
And with all this change, your relationship with Satoru has begun to reshape as well—a new chapter, freshly inked. No secrets, no acts—just the three of you, finding your footing in this new arrangement you’ve embarked on.
But one thing hasn’t changed—Satoru simply can’t say no to Haru.
It’s something that’s too cute for its own good—watching him wrapped around her small little finger, treating her like the princess she is. Ahh…but it’s even cuter how he tries to hide it. Satoru has a heart of gold, and though he may use his wit and charm as a mask, you’ve come to see through most of his tricks now—especially when it involves Haru.
And Haru? Well, lately she has really started to become attached to Satoru—in ways that even surprise you. Everything has been ‘toru this - ‘toru that. The trouble with it? Well... ’toru doesn’t have all the experience of handling a kid, let alone a two-year-old. But day by day, he is learning.
Fall is Haru’s favorite season, ironic given her name translates to “spring.” She adores everything about it—the cool, crisp air that calls for cuddles and cozy sweaters, the cinnamon pumpkin treats that have become a staple in the kitchen, and the magic of “spooky season,” as she calls it.
The latest item on her list? A trip to the pumpkin patch.
The idea had come up over breakfast, as you sipped your chai and watched Haru list off her autumn plans with boundless enthusiasm. The moment she had flashed those wide, hopeful eyes at you both, of course Satoru offered to take her—he stepped in immediately and you’d been surprised but delighted by the offer.
And now, you’re embarking on this journey together—off to the pumpkin patch. You head down the stairs of the Gojo’s estate with Haru’s little hand nestled in yours—chattering excitedly about all the things she wants to do and see at the pumpkin patch.
“Let’s find a big pumpkin, Mama! I wanna pet the animals!”
You smile, nodding along, but as you reach the end of the stairs, glancing into the foyer, you’re greeted by a sight entirely unexpected.
Satoru leans casually against the banister, scrolling through his phone, but he’s dressed down in a way you’ve never seen. Gone are his usual tailored suits and designer dress shoes—instead, he’s wearing an oversized hoodie, a pair of well-worn jeans, and, most surprisingly, a black beanie snug over his white hair. The only familiar accessory he wears is that pair of round, dark sunglasses resting upon the bridge of his nose.
Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, he glances up from his phone, grinning.
“Well, look at you, Mr. Gojo,” you smirk, stepping closer. “You almost look…normal.”
A low hum rumbles from his chest as he takes off his sunglasses for a moment, letting you catch sight of that familiar twinkle in his eyes.
“Almost?” he feigns offense, pushing off from the banister. “Aw man, that’s disappointing, considering that this,” he gestures at his outfit, “is premium low-profile attire.”
You snort, reaching up to playfully tug on one of the strings of his hoodie.
“I didn’t realize you had a whole ‘undercover’ look ready to go.”
“Well… yeah,” he leans forward and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Life of a celebrity, sweetheart. Last thing we need is the pumpkin paparazzi swarming us. I’d rather they didn’t ruin Haru’s big day out.”
His words make you pause, a gentle warmth filling your chest at his thoughtfulness—but before you can respond, a tiny voice chimes in.
“‘toru, you look like a spy!” Haru’s small hand grips the fabric of his jeans, her face alight with excitement as she gazes up at him.
Satoru chuckles, turning his attention fully to her. As he crouches down to meet her gaze, his own expression softens.
“A spy, huh? You’re onto something princess.” He gently ruffles her hair. “Alright… here’s the deal. You can be my sidekick, but only if you keep my secret.” He puts a finger to his lips, and whispers. “No one can know who I really am. It’ll be our secret mission.”
“Secret! I won’t tell,” she whispers with utmost seriousness, and her eyes beam with the thrill of this imaginary game he’s now given her.
“Good,” he murmurs, tapping her nose lightly, “I knew I could trust ya, kiddo,” and as he shoots her a wink, she dissolves into a fit of giggles.
You watch them from a few steps away, leaning back against the banister with your arms crossed—a soft smile tugging at your lips. There’s something endearing, almost mesmerizing, about the way Satoru allows himself to be swept up in Haru’s world, and you’re incredibly impressed at how seamlessly he’s growing into this role—this new chapter of his life, and yours. As you catch glimpses of the man he’s becoming, these small, unguarded moments bring forth a version of Satoru that feels both familiar and entirely new.
Just then, Satoru glances up and catches you watching him with that uncharacteristically soft expression. His gaze narrows playfully, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his lips as he stands.
“What, Mrs. Gojo? Enjoying the view?”
Your smile softens, and the words that leave your lips slip out before you even realize it.
“Who knew dad vibes could look this good on you?”
Ah, fuck. The second the words leave your lips; you feel a heat rushing to your cheeks—you’ve spoken without thinking, letting your admiration for him slip out in a way that feels a little too honest—more vulnerable than you intended—giving him a title—that title. You’re still getting used to this… this new, real relationship that you and Satoru share, and moments like this catch you off guard.
Satoru’s reaction is immediate; his eyes widen in surprise, and for a heartbeat, he simply blinks at you, processing what you’ve said. Flustered, you bite your lip—your gaze darting away for a moment as the heat in your face intensifies. There is no hiding the delicate pink painting your cheeks.
But then, his surprise melts into a grin—a slow, pleased smile that lights up his entire face, stretching into a smirk that’s all too self-satisfied.
“Oh?” his voice drips with amusement. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ‘dad vibes.’”
Stepping forward, he tilts his head—studying you with a newfound intensity, and it becomes very clear that he’s relishing in your flustered reaction.
Ugh. You don’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed in his response. Clearing your throat, you try to salvage a bit of dignity.
“I, uh… I just mean, y’know… you’re getting the hang of this,” you mumble.
You should know better—that playful glint in Satoru’s eyes tells you he’s not letting you off the hook. His eyes beam with mischief as he leans in close, and you desperately try to advert your gaze.
“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t backtrack now,” he smirks, turning your face to meet him.
The warmth in your cheeks intensifies under his gaze, and his fingers linger, brushing tenderly against your chin. Your breath catches the moment he moves in closer—lips ghosting just over yours.
“I think I could get used to is this kind of flattery…”
You suck in a breath and playfully roll your eyes. “The last thing you need is an ego boost. Don’t get too used to it…”
“Too late,” he whispers back.
Before you can say anything else, a small, impatient voice breaks the moment.
“Mama, ‘toru! Let’s gooo! Pumpkins!” she pouts.
You both blink, snapping out of the moment as you glance down at Haru, who’s now tugging on your hands with eager impatience.
She’s not about to let her pumpkin adventure be delayed by your moment.
“Alright, alright, princess, we’re going,” Satoru chuckles, ruffling her hair playfully. “Besides, I’m not the only one going incognito today.”
Turning towards a nearby table, he reaches for a small shopping bag you hadn’t noticed before, and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity as he holds the bag out to you with a smirk. The moment the bag is settled in your hands, you immediately open it—revealing your own matching beanie, followed by a pair of sleek designer sunglasses.
“Gotta keep my partner in crime undercover too.”
“Ah, of course,” you muse, grinning at you pull your disguise out of the shopping bag. “Didn’t realize we were going full ‘spy mode’ for this outing.”
Satoru chuckles, but his eyes soften as he watches you slip the beanie over your head and position the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose with a flourish.
“How do I look?” you pose playfully.
“Like the perfect accomplice,” he declares with a grin. “No one will suspect a thing.”
Haru’s face lights up and she claps her hands in excitement.
“Mama’s a spy too!” she squeals.
The thrill in her voice pulls a laugh from both you and Satoru—she’s completely swept up in this game. Satoru mirrors after you—slipping on his own sunglasses with an exaggerated flourish as he flashes Haru a mischievous grin. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket and whispers conspiratorially—as though letting her in on a top-secret plan.
“That’s right, kiddo. It’s a full family mission.”
Haru’s eyes beam with childlike wonder as she nods—putting her finger to her lips again—mimicking his serious expression. Suddenly, Satoru pulls out a set of keys from his hoodie pocket and begins dangling them in front of you with a grin. The silver glints in the sunlight as he places them in your hand.
“C’mon, you’re driving today,” he says with an easy nonchalance.
It takes a moment for you to register that it’s your keys he had set in your hand, and you blink down at them for a moment while he steps towards the door. It’s been so long since you’ve driven your own car that it feels oddly unfamiliar—like a relic from another life.
“Oh, uh… yeah, sure,” you stammer, still caught off guard as you follow him out the door, with Haru skipping beside you—a cascade of excitement as she babbles about today’s adventure.
Once you step outside, your gaze lands on your car waiting in the driveway—a dark blue sedan with a soft, understated shine—a small piece of normalcy you’d left behind in the wake of Gojo's luxury.  It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s always been reliable.
Driving out of the Gojo estate… in your car? It’s a strange, almost surreal concept after all the chauffeured cars and limos that have now oddly become routine. A rush of familiarity surges through you—remembering the simpler times, a glimpse of the life that once belonged solely to you.
While you’re lost down memory lane, Satoru strolls toward the passenger side. He pauses, glancing back to find you standing there—keys in hand, a touch of nostalgia softening you features. His signature smirk settles into place as he leans casually against the passenger door and muses.
“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ve forgotten how to drive? Or…” his eyes narrow with playful mischief as he raises an eyebrow, “are you too fancy to drive your own car now, Mrs. Gojo?”
You scoff, rolling your eyes before striding over to the rear passenger door, where Haru waits—her small fingers clutching the edge eagerly.
“Says the one who never drives,” you shoot back, grinning as you pull open the door. “Mr. ‘Passenger Princess.’”
Your comment earns you a dramatic huff as he places a hand over his chest—pretending to be affronted—though the grin curling upon his lip tells you he’s anything but offended.
“Excuuuse me, but this ‘passenger princess’ comes with premium commentary and a charming smile. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have this level of company in the front seat.”
Shaking your head, you roll your eyes again as you reach down to lift Haru into the car.
“Lucky me,” you mutter with a grin.
But just as you begin to settle Haru into her car seat, her demeanor shifts—before you know it, she’s twisting in your arms, pressing her hands against your shoulders, all while her little brows draw together in a determined pout.
“No, Mama!” she wriggles free—scurrying down to plant her feet on the ground. You blink the moment she crosses her arms and defiantly declares, “I want ‘toru to do it!”
The request takes you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. Uhhh… come to think of it, does Satoru even know how to strap a toddler into a car seat? You glance over at him, and he looks equally thrown off—an uncertain smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
You can practically see his internal debate unfolding—he subtly glances between you and Haru—clearly flattered but just as visibly out of his depth.
Oh, Haru. She absolutely adores him—and while Satoru isn’t exactly resisting the role she’s suddenly assigned him, you know first-hand that he’s pretty much clueless with toddler basics. Car seats and sippy cups? Yeah… not exactly his area of expertise.
With a sigh, you kneel beside Haru—a gentle smile on your lips.
“Haru, honey… Satoru doesn’t exactly—"
Satoru clears his throat.
“—uh… sure, I can do it,” he straightens, pushing himself off the side of the car with a nonchalant shrug as he gives you a small, uncertain grin. “How hard can it be?”
A giggle breaks from Haru’s lips as he swoops her up, and her little arms wrap around his neck with delight—but Satoru’s eyes narrow at the car seat like it’s some sort of complex machinery he’s about to dismantle. Oh… this is gonna be good.
He carefully lowers her into the seat, and his brows furrow with intense focus as his fingers begin to slip over the unfamiliar buckles.
“Alright… this goes here… or does it?” he mutters.
Biting back a smile, you marvel at how determined yet adorably out of his element he is—untangling the straps. But as you watch him struggle, you are suddenly struck with the realization of how different this moment feels from anything you have ever experienced in the past.
Naoya? He would never have humored Haru’s whims, let alone spent time trying to puzzle out something as simple (yet surprisingly complicated) as a car seat. No—it was easier for him to hand off the messy tasks of parenting.
But Satoru? Here he was, eyebrows knitted in stubborn determination—refusing to give up on this minor challenge, simply because Haru had asked him to. Each small stumble, each adjustment he makes, only seems to fuel his resolve to get it right.
After a few moments, a sigh of mild frustration escapes him, and he pauses, staring at the tangled straps in front of him in defeat. Finally, glancing over his shoulder, he casts you a sheepish look that’s so uncharacteristically vulnerable it melts you.
“Uhh… I’m doing this right…right?”
Oh, he’s too cute. He’s trying so hard, and something about it makes you want to lean in and kiss him, just for being so completely, irresistibly endearing.
Stepping forward, you smile softly, inspecting his work with a practiced eye.
“You’re doing great,” you assure him warmly, reaching out to gently adjust the chest clip. “But you’ll want to raise this a little higher—it should be level with her armpits, and maybe tighten it a bit more.”
His eyes focus closely on your hands as you gently guide him through the adjustments, and he nods—carefully stepping back in to finish the task with a newfound confidence.
“Okay, got it.”
Your slight encouragement seems to have spurred his fingers to move more purposefully now. Tightening the strap, he gives it a final tug to check the tension, and with a small huff of triumph, a wide grin spreads across his face as he leans back—admiring his handiwork.
“There,” he announces, sounding both relieved and just a little proud. “One secure kiddo.”
Haru beams up at him, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“Good job, ‘toru!” her voice is filled with an adorable pride, as though she’s the one teaching him.
“Anything for you, princess,” he chuckles, gently closing her door and casting her one last fond look through the window. Then, with an easy stride, he slips into the passenger seat beside you, settling in with an air of satisfaction.
“All right, you two,” you exhale, securing your seatbelt with a satisfying click. “Let’s hit the road, shall we?”
After securing his own seatbelt, Satoru’s eyes flicker to yours with playful adoration. He leans back with a contented sigh.
“Yup. And with you behind the wheel, I get the best view in the car,” winking playfully, his trademark smirk appears as he adds, “Ready when you are, Madam Chauffeur.”
ꨄ︎
The pumpkin patch sprawls before you like a painted autumn wonderland. Rows upon rows of pumpkins in every imaginable shape and size dot the field—their bright orange hues glowing under the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun. Rustic wooden signs swing gently in the breeze, directing families to activities like hay rides, corn mazes, and a “Pumpkin Painting Station.” You’re welcomed with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, mingling with the sweetness of spiced donuts and apple cider—a warm nostalgic embrace of autumn.
Nearby, children dart between the pumpkins, shrieking with laughter as they kick up leaves. Parents snap photos, their laughter joining the symphony of crunching footsteps and cheerful voices. You glance at Satoru, who’s paused just past the entrance—his gaze sweeping across the scene with a mixture of awe and slight bewilderment. There’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, like he’s trying to take in every detail of this unfamiliar world.
“Well?” you ask, nudging him gently with a smile. “What do you think?”
He shrugs, flashing a lopsided grin as he meets your gaze.
“Honestly? I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something a little more… contained?” his eyes flick to a group of kids who’ve just toppled over in a pile of leaves—sending a cloud of autumn colors flying around them.
“Contained?” you echo, a smirk crossing your face. “Satoru, it’s a pumpkin patch, not a black-tie event. Consider it an adventure in rural living.”
He lets out a low chuckle, and his usual confidence is softened by a rare, boyish charm.
“Mmm... well I guess I’m overdue for an adventure like this,” his gaze drifts over the rows of pumpkins—families bundled in scarves and jackets as the haze of afternoon sunlight filters through the trees. His tone dips into something warm, almost tender. “Hard to believe, but I’ve never actually been to one of these before.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”
He shakes his head, looking almost sheepish.
“Nah... let’s just say pumpkin patches aren’t exactly a Gojo family tradition…” he chuckles softly, but there’s a bit of sadness coloring his voice as he scratches the back of his head. “I guess most of my autumns were spent in places a bit… less pumpkin-filled.”
His unguarded honesty tugs at something deep within you. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, just how much of a different world he comes from—how even the smallest traditions, like visiting a pumpkin patch, might’ve been out of reach for him.
Without a second thought, you reach over, sliding your hand into his, your fingers curling around his in a gentle squeeze. He looks down, surprise flashing in his eyes, before his expression softens as he meets your gaze.
“There’s a first time for everything,” you murmur softly. “And… now you’ve got Haru and me to show you how it’s done. We’re practically pumpkin patch experts.”
A soft smile breaks across his face, and for a moment, he looks like he’s letting down a guard you hadn’t even realized was there.
“I couldn’t ask for better teachers,” he squeezes your hand back.
Just then, a delighted gasp breaks the stillness as Haru tugs excitedly on Satoru’s hand—her eyes are wide and shining with wonder as she points to a patch of particularly large pumpkins.
“Look, ‘toru! Big ones!” she practically bounces with energy. “Let’s go! Pleeease?”
Satoru’s expression softens even further as he glances from you to Haru, and with a small laugh, he nods—allowing himself to be pulled forward by her tiny but insistent hand.
“Alright, alright, lead the way, pumpkin expert,” he says, casting a quick, affectionate glance back at you—and your heart swells from the way his eyes twinkle with amusement, and maybe, just a hint of gratitude.
ꨄ︎
“This one?” Satoru asks, holding up a pumpkin with a proud grin.
“No!” Haru exclaims immediately, her face scrunched up in disapproval. “Too skinny.”
Satoru raises an eyebrow, giving the pumpkin an exaggerated, doubtful look.
“Too skinny, huh?” setting it down with a sigh, he brushes off his hands—back to square one. “Alright, let’s keep looking.”
He takes a few steps, scanning the rows, and his gaze falls on another pumpkin—rounder this time, but with a bit of a tilt to one side. He bends down to pick it up, then holds it out with a contemplative look.
“Hmm… how about this one? Good color, nice and round—”
“Nope!” Haru cuts him off, shaking her head with a serious frown. “It’s bumpy.”
Satoru sighs—a huff of a chuckle. He places the pumpkin back down with mock solemnity.
“Alright, alright. No bumps, no skinniness. Got it.”
Glancing back, he casts you a quick look—an amused twinkle in his eye as he mouths, she’s tough. Stifling a laugh, you sit back on a nearby hay bale, watching their search unfold with growing amusement. Haru’s standards have always been impressively high, and Satoru, is finally getting a taste of that.
As they wander a little farther down the row, Satoru’s gaze lands on another contender—a medium-sized pumpkin with a perfectly round shape and a smooth surface. Crouching down beside it, he inspects it with all the seriousness of a seasoned pumpkin picker, then holds it out, giving Haru a hopeful look.
“This one? Look, it’s perfectly round and no bumps in sight.”
Haru narrows her eyes, stepping forward and scrutinizing the pumpkin with an intensity that belies her age. A tiny, dramatic sigh escapes her as she shakes her head in disapproval.
“No, it’s not orange enough. Has to be super orange!”
“Super orange,” he echoes with a dramatic nod. “Of course. What was I thinking?” He places it back with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he searches the rows—clearly determined not to give up.
Biting back a smile, you watch him crouch beside her yet again, leaning in close to match her intense expression. Then, he picks up another pumpkin and holds it out in front of her, trying to contain his hope.
“This one?” he asks, almost pleading.
Haru barely spares a second glance.
“Nope! The stem is too small.”
With a defeated sigh, Satoru watches as she continues her search, undeterred and unbothered by his less-than-stellar picks. After a moment, he walks back over to you and plops down on the hay bale—his shoulders slumping in mock exhaustion.
“Is there such a thing as a perfect pumpkin, or am I just doomed to fail here?”
You can’t help but grin—reaching over for his hand. As your fingers intertwine with his, you rest your head gently against his shoulder.
“Oh… I think there’s one out there somewhere,” you murmur, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t give up now, Mr. Gojo. Just think of this as your first lesson in pumpkin-picking perseverance.”
A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest—low and warm.
“Perseverance, huh?” looking down at your joined hands, his thumb brushes tenderly over your fingers, before his gaze lifts to meet yours—there’s a softness in his eyes, a kind of warmth that feels as comfortable as the autumn sun. “Alright… if you believe in me, I guess I’ll keep trying. But if she shoots down one more pumpkin, I might need a pep talk.”
You laugh, giving his shoulder a playful nudge.
“I’ll be here, ready with all the encouragement you need. This is serious business, y’know.”
He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there’s a spark of determination there as he watches Haru continue her search with relentless focus.
“Serious business, huh?” he mutters, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well… far be it from me to let a toddler outdo me.”
Before you can respond, a delighted gasp cuts through the air.
“Mama! ‘toru! I found it!” eyes wide and sparkling, Haru points proudly at a pumpkin nestled snugly in the dirt.
The triumph in her voice makes Satoru’s eyes light up. Standing from the hay bale, his hands nestle into the pockets of his hoodie as he strides towards Haru, with you following closely behind.
“Really now? Let’s take a look at this prize pumpkin.”
Crouching down beside it, Satoru lifts the pumpkin carefully with both hands—as though it’s the crown jewel of the pumpkin patch. His brow furrows with an exaggerated seriousness as he turns it slowly, examining every curve and contour.
“Hmm… yes, I think you’re right,” he declares, voice thoughtful. “This is one smooth, super orange, pumpkin…and just look at that stem!” he taps the pumpkin’s top lightly and flashes Haru a crooked grin. “You’ve got a great eye, kiddo. I’d say you found the best one here.”
Haru’s face lights up with pride.
“Yay!! Look, Mama look!” she beams, her smile stretching from ear to ear—glowing with joy.
Crouching down beside her, you run your hand gently over the pumpkin’s surface. “Wow, sweetie—I love it. It’s absolutely perfect.”
You catch Satoru’s gaze holding yours for a moment—a soft smile stretching across his lips—and then, he reaches down to lift the pumpkin effortlessly—cradling it like a treasure.
“So… do we take it home now? Looks like we’ve got our perfect pumpkin, after all.”
You rise—shaking your head with a grin as you hold up a hand to pause him.
“Not so fast apprentice. You didn’t think we’d leave without experiencing the whole pumpkin patch, did you? C’mon, we’ll bring it up front, but check out later.”
Satoru chuckles, shifting the pumpkin under one arm as he raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright. Guess I shouldn’t rush the experts,” his eyes shift to Haru and his smile softens. “So… what’s next on our agenda, sweetheart?”
ꨄ︎
As the three of you stroll hand in hand through the bustling market stalls, the air is rich with the warm aroma of spiced cider, caramel, and freshly baked treats. Each booth is piled high with autumn delights—jars of golden honey, hand-painted gourds nestled among small pumpkins, and cozy knit scarves draped invitingly over wooden displays.
But Satoru’s attention is instantly captivated by the booth ahead—his eyes brimming in boyish wonder as they land on a display of sweet treats.
“Is that cider? And caramel apples?” he exclaims. “Come on, we have to try these,” and he’s steering you both eagerly towards the booth—like a moth to a flame.
You blink—a little surprised by how openly delighted he is over something so simple. But soon, a warm smile breaks across your face, and you can’t help but chuckle softly while he tugs you along.
“You’re like a kid in a candy store right now.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he flashes you a grin so bright, it feels like a burst of sunlight breaking through the autumn clouds. His enthusiasm is contagious, and before you know it, you’re swept up in his excitement.
He eagerly orders three caramel apples and a steaming cup of cider to share. Then, turning back, he holds the treats up with a triumphant, radiant smile—gleaming with delight. Handing the first one to Haru, you watch as she sinks her small teeth into the sticky treat without hesitation.
“Mmm! Yummy!!” Caramel smears her cheeks, but she looks up at you both, absolutely beaming.
Satoru chuckles, reaching down to ruffle her hair fondly before turning back to you. With an exaggerated flourish, he extends a caramel apple in your direction—bowing slightly as he adopts a tone of mock chivalry.
“For you, my lady,” he says with a smirk.
Unable to hold back a grin, you roll your eyes at his theatrics—taking the apple from him.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
As you bring the treat to your mouth, the rich sweetness clings to your lips in a sticky kiss. But you can’t resist glancing over at Satoru—and there he is, utterly lost in the simple pleasure of it. He bites into his own apple with unfiltered delight, like it’s the best thing he’s had all day.
A smile pulls at your lips as you watch him—licking a stray bit of caramel from his thumb. He’s entirely unbothered by the sticky mess, but then, as if feeling your gaze, he looks up—catching your eyes with a glint of amusement. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face, unashamed and utterly charming.
"I didn’t peg you as someone who’d go for something this messy," you tease, taking another bite of your apple as he shrugs.
“You say messy; I say worth it,” he counters.
Your eyes linger on a small smudge of caramel at the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, you reach out—brushing your thumb gently across his lips to clean it away. But just as you begin to pull your hand back, he captures your fingers—holding them in place while his gaze meets yours. His lips curl into a smirk that promises nothing but trouble, and a shiver tingles up your spine the moment he brings your thumb to his lips.
Slowly, deliberately, he closes his lips around your thumb—enveloping the sticky sweetness in his warm mouth while sucking it off with a teasing slowness—leaving you breathless.
“You’re impossible…” you mutter.
Releasing your digit with a soft, tantalizing pop—your breath hitches, and there’s a smug delight in the way he studies you, reveling in the effect he’s stirred within you.
“What can I say?” he hums, licking his lips with a casual ease. “Sweet things are my weakness.”
Your eyes are helplessly drawn to his lips—watching as his tongue glides over his bottom lip, catching the last traces of caramel. For a heartbeat, you can’t look away; his lips look even more tempting than the caramel itself, and something about his self-assured gaze has you feeling flustered and captivated all at once.
“Your weakness, huh?” you breathe, finally managing to lift your gaze back to his, trying to sound nonchalant. “Good to know… I’ll remember that next time you act like you’re above everyone else.”
A rich, low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he leans in, and the air around you crackles with anticipation as his gaze drops to your still sticky lips.
“You should,” he whispers, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours—a glint of mischief and something softer. “Especially since caramel apples aren’t my only weakness.”
Before you can even catch your breath, he leans in, bridging the small distance between you until his lips hover just a whisper away. His mouth brushes against yours, feather-light at first—a tentative, lingering touch that sends a shiver through you. Instinctively, you find yourself mirroring his movements, returning the kiss with gentle insistence.
As his hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb strokes a slow, comforting line along your cheek, grounding you, though his lips leave you feeling weightless. The kiss is a delicate dance, as intoxicating as it is tender, and you can taste the faint sweetness of caramel mingling with the warmth of him.
Pulling back, his warm breath mingles with your own as he rests his forehead gently against you. His eyes, soft and half-lidded, meet yours, and a small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.
“You know…” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “you taste even better than the caramel.”
“Sweet talker…” you mumble, your cheeks warming under his gaze as his smirk widens.
“Mmm, but you’re the sweetest thing here,” he breathes, voice dropping as he draws close again. “But… I think I need another taste. Just to be sure.”
This time, his lips press with a deeper, more assured insistence, moving against yours in a rhythm of warmth and quiet intensity. A low hum of approval escapes him, vibrating softly against your lips, and his hand slides to the back of your neck—fingers weaving through your hair as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
But just as you begin to lose yourself in the moment, a small, determined voice slices through the quiet intimacy like a record scratch.
“Hey!” Haru scolds, stern and resolute. “Bad ‘toru! Don’t squish Mama!”
Startled, you both break apart, blinking at each other as you catch your breath. You turn to see Haru standing nearby, her little arms crossed over her chest as she fixes Satoru with an adorably fierce look. Her brows are furrowed in a way that would be intimidating—if she weren’t so tiny.
Oh, Haru.
You exchange a quick, sheepish glance with Satoru, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, reaching down to ruffle her hair in an attempt to defuse her stern gaze.
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he says, grinning. “Mama’s tougher than she looks.”
Wriggling out of his reach, she stomps her foot with a determined huff.
“That’s my Mama! You be nice, ‘kay?”
Satoru blinks—the corners of his mouth twitching up as he struggles to keep a straight face. Biting back a grin, he raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Right. You got it boss,” he nods solemnly. “I’ll be extra nice.”
There’s a brief pause as Haru narrows her eyes at Satoru.
“Promise ‘toru?”
“Promise.” He taps his chest for emphasis, as if making a sacred vow.
After a long, scrutinizing pause—deciding whether to take his promise seriously—Haru nods, a satisfied “hmmph” escaping her as she plops down beside you with her candy apple in hand.
“No more squishing,” she mumbles around a bite—keeping a wary eye on him.
That’s it—you can’t hold it in any longer. Laughter bubbles out of you, and Satoru glances up, catching your eye with a grin that’s equal parts amused and exasperated.
“Well…” he sighs, as if he’s been given the most impossible mission, “guess I’ve been told.”
ꨄ︎
As the three of you meander through the pumpkin patch, Haru skips along—tugging on your hands and pointing out each new discovery in delight—a scarecrow with a tilted hat, a butterfly fluttering briefly on a tall stalk of corn, a perfectly round pumpkin nestled under twisting vines.
Then, bouncing on her toes, she points toward a massive, lumbering tractor—its green paint chipped and worn, but still carrying an undeniable charm.
“Look, ‘toru! I wanna ride it!” she exclaims.
As Satoru’s eyes narrow on the rumbling machine, you can see the gears turning in his head. Him—a man of luxury and refinement, clambering onto a dusty old tractor?
But after one look at Haru’s eager face, his resolve crumbles.
And of course, moments later, he’s perched on a bale of hay—Haru bouncing with delight on his lap as the tractor lurches to life. The wheels crunch over the fallen leaves, and Haru chatters happily, pointing out every bump and turn in the ride—blissfully unaware of the incongruity of a billionaire on a hay bale.
After the bumpy ride, the petting zoo became Haru’s next paradise. Dashing from pen to pen, her tiny hands pressed against each fence—pointing at each animal with wide-eyed wonder—calling out, “Look, Mama! Look, ‘toru!”
Each discovery sends her gazing up at Satoru with curious eyes, expecting him to know everything about each creature, and he humors her with a quiet patience—kneeling down beside her to answer her endless questions with a tender fondness that tugs at your heart.
But as you’re savoring this rare, serene moment, you feel a subtle shift in the air. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a woman a few feet away, dressed in a cozy autumn sweater and a scarf, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that spills over one shoulder. She’s dressed casual in appearance—completely harmless—but what unsettles you is the intensity in her gaze—a gaze that lingers on Satoru a bit too long.
At first, you try to brush it off. Maybe she’s just admiring him—after all, he’s breathtakingly attractive, and his presence has a way of turning heads even on his most inconspicuous days. But then, her expression shifts, morphing from idle admiration to something sharper.
Recognition.
Your heart sinks as you see her eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in surprise. Holding your breath, you hope she’ll just let it go—that it’ll be a fleeting thought.
No such luck.
With a quick, subtle gesture, she nudges her friend beside her, her excitement barely contained. The friend follows her gaze, squinting slightly before her eyes, too, widen in realization. Their quiet murmurs are punctuated by eager glances your way, confirming your worst fear: they know who he is.
The comforting illusion of anonymity you’d clung to here—the precious notion that, for once, you could just be a regular family enjoying a simple day out—begins to fray at the edges, unraveling under the weight of their recognition. No matter how far you venture from the city, from his world of fame and fortune, it seems his reputation is impossible to outrun—constantly creeping back to claim him… to claim you.
Taking a deep breath, you slowly approach Satoru, who’s still kneeling by Haru as she excitedly babbles about the sheep. You crouch down beside him and gently place your hand on his shoulder—catching his attention. Turning to you, his expression softens at the sight of you—until he notices the concern in your eyes.
“They recognize you,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly toward the two women.
Following your glance, a shadow of something unreadable passes over his face as he takes in their intrigued, lingering stares, and for a moment, you feel the hopelessness creeping in—the reality that moments like these are fleeting—vulnerable to the slightest shift in attention.
But then, something shifts in Satoru’s expression—his gaze sharpening with determination as he catches sight of the disappointment settling in your eyes. Glancing around, he begins assessing the layout of the pumpkin patch—searching for an escape route.
Then, his gaze lands on it—a tall, winding corn maze, its entrance just a few yards away, partially hidden behind a cluster of hay bales.
Perfect.
Without a beat of hesitation, he leans in close to Haru—who’s blissfully caught up in a bunny nibbling on some hay.
“Agent Haru,” he intones with mock seriousness, “do you remember our mission?”
Haru’s head snaps up, her face lighting up instantly as she turns to him.
“Yeah!” she squeals, grinning with a spark of adventure.
“Good,” he nods, casting a quick, discreet glance toward the approaching women. “We need to escape without being spotted by those two ladies over there,” he gestures subtly, grinning. “Think you can handle it?”
Haru’s face scrunches up in concentration, and her tiny hands clench into fists as she straightens up. Her expression breaks into one of fierce determination—one that’s both adorable and earnest.
“Yes, ‘toru!” she whispers back, nodding.
With a reassuring smile, Satoru’s on his feet—taking your hand in one of his and Haru’s in the other.
“Hold on tight,” he quips, a smirk playing on his lips as the three of you dash toward the maze.
The moment you break into a run, Haru’s delighted giggles mix with the crunch of leaves underfoot, and soon you plunge into the tall, twisting rows of corn.
You steal a glance back towards the petting zoo, half-expecting to see the curious women following, but the corn closes in behind you like a cocoon, swallowing them from sight.
Satoru’s hand is warm around yours, grounding yet electrifying, and his laughter mingles with Haru’s squeals. With a sideways glance, his eyes meet yours and his grin is wide and exhilarating. Giving you a quick wink, he turns forward again, tugging you along as you dive deeper—daring you to keep up.
“Agent Haru, status report! Any enemies in sight?" he calls out in a mock-commanding tone.
Haru, bubbling with laughter, scans the rows of corn with exaggerated intensity—clutching his hand with fierce determination as her little legs pump as fast as they can.
"All clear ‘toru!" she yells back, brimming with excitement.
In that instant, the lingering worry, the quiet ache of reality, all of it dissolves into the thrill of escape—the magic of this moment. There’s no fame, no recognition, no judgement here; only the unrestrained joy of play, of racing through a maze as though the world is nothing but this stretch of golden corn and laughter.
You weave together through twists and turns—a blur of giggles and hurried footsteps until finally, you reach a small, secluded clearing tucked deep within the towering stalks.
Gasping for breath, you lean back against one of the tall stalks, and after a moment, you let yourself slide down to the ground—pulling your knees to your chest as you catch your breath, the crisp autumn air cooling your flushed cheeks.
Beside you, Satoru braces his hands on his knees, exhaling deeply before he follows your lead and sinks down onto the ground next to you. Though ahead, Haru seems immune to exhaustion. She’s already a few steps away, her eyes wide with wonder as she spots a butterfly lazily drifting through a patch of sunlight. Completely captivated, she crouches down, watching its gentle path—momentarily lost in her own little world.
Satoru’s eyes meet yours with a shared, silent thrill. Nudging your shoulder with his, a smirk tugs at his lips.
“Didn’t know a pumpkin patch would turn into a covert operation,” he exhales.
You laugh, breathlessly.
“Not exactly what I had in mind for a relaxing day out,” you give his knee an affectionate shove with yours. “But… I guess life with you is never boring.”
He chuckles, throwing his head back and gazing up at the autumn sky—a few streaks of orange and pink peeking through the corn tops.
“Well…” his eyes flicker to yours, sparkling with that familiar, teasing gleam. “You did sign up for the full Gojo experience. Adventures, paparazzi, occasional cornfield chases… it’s all part of the package sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.
“Uh-huh, sure, sure. I just thought it would involve more champagne and less running,” you quip, nudging him playfully.
“Oh, you want champagne?” he grins, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. “You sure you can handle it? Remember that first charity gala? You were practically clinging to me by the end of the night.”
Your cheeks flush at the memory, and you laugh, slightly flustered.
“Okay, but did you expect me to be completely unfazed? My first gala, fancy dresses, and…"
The words die on your lips—the memory of that night creeping in; the low lights, the glint of champagne glasses, and then… that kiss. Your first kiss—with Satoru.
A kiss that was completely under the guise of putting on a show for Naoya… though let’s be real, it was anything but pretend.
Satoru’s eyes light up with interest as he catches your hesitation, his smirk widening like a cat about to pounce.
“Go on. Fancy dresses and… what, exactly?” he prompts, a playful drawl.
As he tilts his head with that infuriatingly charming glint in his eye, you know, that he knows, exactly what you were thinking. Ugh. He can be infuriating.  
Your cheeks burn as you try to wave it off.
“Nothing! Just… the whole night was… overwhelming,” you mumble, trailing off as you divert your gaze.
A low, amused hum escapes him—rumbling through his chest as his knowing look revels in your embarrassment.
“Overwhelming, huh?” he echoes, grin widening. “Interesting choice of words… considering you were the one who practically jumped me in front of your ex.”
With an exasperated groan, you roll your eyes in protest.
“Well, what can I say?” you sigh, feigning indifference as you rest your head on your knees. “Drastic times called for drastic measures.”
“Mmm-hmm, sure, keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles—dropping his head to rest against his own knees. You hold your breath as his blue eyes catch yours with a quiet, teasing intensity. “But… I’m pretty sure you just couldn’t resist me…” his crooked grin grows, “after all, that kiss was all you.”
You scoff, your cheeks heating as you stretch your legs—trying to hide your amusement. “I think you’re misremembering things. If anything, you were the one clinging to me.”
His laughter spills out, rich and unrestrained. With a content sigh, he follows your movements, stretching out beside you.
“Sure, sure. Believe what you want, sweetheart.”
The comfortable silence settles over you, and you find yourself glancing back to where Haru is still entranced by a butterfly drifting through the sunlight, her face lit with pure wonder.
She’s so… happy. And that fills you with a deep, quiet gratitude. Moments like these are what you’ve always wanted for her. It’s what she deserves, and it warms your heart to know you’re able to give her a day like this.
A sigh escapes your lips, and your voice softens into a gentle murmur as you nod in her direction.
“For a minute there… I really thought we’d have to cut the day short.”
Satoru’s gaze flickers over to Haru, a fond smile softening his expression before he turns back to you. Without a word, he reaches for your hand—fingers intertwining with yours, steady and grounding.
“Nah,” he murmurs, quietly but firmly. “Not a chance. Nothing’s cutting this short. Todays about you and Haru.”
A warmth blooms in your chest, melting away any lingering traces of tension as his words sink in, wrapping around your heart like a gentle embrace. You smile, squeezing his hand in return.
“Just us, huh?” you whisper.
“Just us,” he echoes, brushing your knuckles with his thumb.
Then, with a soft sigh and a playful glint in his eye, he unclasps your hand to raises both hands to his mouth, calling out to Haru.
“Hey, Agent Haru!” he shouts, “Ready to finish our mission?”
Haru’s head snaps up, her eyes bright with excitement. She breaks into a grin and dashes over, grabbing each of your hands with her small, eager fingers.
“Yay!! C’mon mama, ‘toru! Let’s go!!”
ꨄ︎
As the golden light of early evening filters through the trees, the day is winding down, and the three of you start making your way back toward the entrance—weaving through the brightly colored stalls—each one bathed in the honeyed light of sunset.
But then, just as you reach the last stretch of the path, a delighted squeal breaks Haru’s focus the moment her gaze lands on a large, freshly raked pile of leaves just off to the side—a mound of vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows stacked high like a miniature mountain waiting to be conquered. Without a second thought, she breaks free from Satoru’s hand—dashing toward the pile with uncontainable excitement.
Zeroing in on the pile, she abruptly halts—her tiny form silhouetted against the colorful heap. You watch curiously as she glances back over her shoulder—her eyes alight with mischief and her cheeks flushed pink from the chill in the air.
Beaming with the thrill of discovery, she flings herself into the pile—a burst of leaves scattering around her in a vibrant whirlwind as she bursts into a fit of giggles.
“‘toru, look, look!” she calls out, peeking up from within the pile. “Come play, ‘toru! Come play!”
Satoru stops, watching her with a raised brow and an amused grin. He chuckles softly, though you can hear the reluctance coloring his tone. Diving headfirst into a pile of leaves? Clearly, that’s a foreign concept for Satoru Gojo—it’s more of that childlike wonder he missed out on.
Noticing his hesitance, you step up beside him—giving him a teasing nudge with your shoulder.
“C’mon ‘toru, afraid of a few leaves? Don’t tell me the ‘perfect’ Mr. Gojo is worried about getting a little dirt on him?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes—though a smile is already tugging at his lips.
“Afraid? Me?” his hands burrow into his hoodie pocket as he casts you a sideways glance. “Hardly. I’m just… y’know… assessing the situation.”
Biting back a grin, you begin to take a few slow, deliberate steps backwards—inching toward the pile where Haru is waiting as your eyes hold his with a silent dare.
“Assessing, huh?” you raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Mmm… I dunno, sounds like stalling to me. Come on, live a little, Mr. Gojo.”
He smirks, but before he can respond, you twirl around and dive into the pile beside Haru—scattering a burst of leaves around you. Your laughter blends with Haru’s giggle as you sink into the softness, and immediately, she reaches for a handful of leaves—tossing them up in the air so they flutter down like confetti.
Satoru tilts his head, grinning but not budging as the kaleidoscope of autumn colors rain down upon you both. But Haru? She’s not about to let him sit this one out.
Peeking over her shoulder, her eyes immediately set back on Satoru, and her expression morphs into one of adorable determination.
“’toooooru,” she whines, wide eyes practically glowing with hope. “Pleeease. Come play!”
Oh, Haru. He’s powerless against her persistence—and perhaps, against the joy that radiates from the two of you in that pile of leaves. With a theatrical sigh and a reluctant grin, he finally pulls his hands from his pockets.
“Alright, alright,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and makes his way towards the leaf pile.
Standing at the edge of the pile, he kneels down to brush his hand over the crisp leaves—and then, with a sudden burst of resolve and dramatic flair, he lets himself fall back into the pile—flopping down as the leaves scatter around him. Haru wastes no time throwing herself on top of him.
An exaggerated grunt slips through Satoru’s lips, and Haru bursts into laughter as her small hands begin to bury him under a layer of vibrant foliage.
“Oh no!” he lets out a mock gasp as she buries him deeper. “I’m being buried alive! Save me!”
Haru’s laughter bubbles up, uncontrollable and infectious, as she adds even more leaves. “Stay still!” she scolds through her giggles, patting the leaves around his arms. “Don’t move, ‘toru!
“So, I’m supposed to just lie here and accept my fate, huh?” he huffs in defeat and glances up at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t some secret plan to take me out?”
“Shhh!” she grins, putting a finger to his lips. “Magic leaves.”
“Oh, magic leaves? Well, why didn’t you say so?” his eyes glint with amusement as he lies still, trying to keep a straight face, though the laughter in his voice betrays him.
Haru continues to stack leaves atop him with a determined precision, until for a moment, she pauses—her eyes narrowing with that familiar glimmer of mischief yet again, as if she’s calculating her next move. Then suddenly, with a burst of energy, she tackles him with all her might—giggling as she sends the carefully arranged pile of leaves flying in every direction.
“Oh, it’s on!” Satoru laughs, his own grin widening as he grabs a handful of leaves to fling back at her. “You think you can get me like that, huh?”
In an instant, they’re caught in a whirlwind of laughter and autumn leaves. Seated nearby, you observe their playful battle unfold—Haru shrieking with joy as she ducks and scrambles to gather more ammunition. The warmth in your chest blossoms, and you feel almost entranced by the sight before you.
As Satoru’s deep, unrestrained laughter blends with Haru’s giggles, you realize in this moment just how rare it is to see him like this—completely carefree and unguarded. Gone is the man who must always play his part. Gone is the man who so often conceals his true self beneath layers of poise and duty. Here, with Haru, he is simply Satoru—someone who can laugh until he’s breathless and lose himself in a child’s game without a care.
You wonder how many other moments like this he’s missed—the boyish enthusiasm makes it seem almost as if he, too, is experiencing this kind of carefree fun for the first time. And that alone makes this moment feel so precious—something you wish you could capture and keep forever—suspended in time.
He deserves to feel this light, this unburdened.
“Okay, okay! I surrender!” he finally laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat before collapsing back into the pile—his chest rising and falling with exhilarated breaths as Haru cheers in victory.
“Gotcha, ‘toru!” she declares proudly—triumphantly piling more leaves on him. “You’re a leaf monster!”
Satoru chuckles, brushing a stray leaf off his nose as he props himself up slightly. “A leaf monster?” his eyes gleam playfully. “Well… you better be careful then—I might come back with vengeance.”
She squeals with laughter and her eyes sparkle with excitement as she scrambles to her feet. “Ahhh! Go away ‘toru!” she shrieks—darting away to dive into another pile of leaves nearby.
Watching her go, Satoru’s expression softens—a peaceful sigh slipping past his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath. “She’s got endless energy, doesn’t she?” he murmurs, tilting his head up to meet your gaze.
Your heart flutters at the warmth in his eyes, and you lean back on your hands, letting your own smile mirror his as you watch Haru’s figure disappear into another pile of leaves. “She does,” you breathe softly. “But… I think you’re doing a pretty good job keeping up.”
A quiet hum of contentment escapes him, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. Almost instinctively, he shifts closer, letting his head nestle in your lap as he leans back into the leaves.
“Maybe…” he trails off into a lazy, satisfied sigh. “But I think I’ll take a break right here… if that’s okay.”
As the dappled sunlight filters through the golden autumn leaves above, it casts soft shadows across his face—illuminating the gentle warmth in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, and without a word, you reach out—threading your fingers through his hair, each strand slipping through your fingertips, softer than you expected. He hums, sinking into your touch, his eyes drifting shut as a slow, contented smile spreads across his lips.
Around you, the world seems to quiet, holding its breath. Haru’s distant giggles mingle with the soft rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of peace.
“You know…” you murmur, “I think this is my favorite side of you.”
His eyes flutter open, a flicker of surprise giving way to something unguarded and vulnerable. Slowly, a tender smile forms on his lips as he reaches up, brushing his hand gently against yours.
“Yeah?” he drawls, “Didn’t know I had a ‘favorite side.’”
“You do…” your fingers trace gentle circles through his hair, savoring the feel of each delicate touch. “It’s the side where you don’t have to be anything but… here, with us.”
For a heartbeat, he’s utterly still, as if each word you’ve spoken has wrapped itself around his heart. His gaze deepens, and your breath catches—it’s like he’s seeing you in a way that reaches beyond words. Gently, his hand comes up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear—his fingertips grazing your cheek with a touch so tender it makes your heart ache.
“Guess I didn’t know I could just… be that,” he whispers.
You lift your hand, covering his and pressing it to your cheek. “Well, you can. With us, you always can.”
His gaze holds yours, something vulnerable yet content in his eyes, but then, as if unable to help himself, the warmth shifts into a familiar glint—a spark of playfulness creeping back into his expression. “Alright, alright…” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “let’s not get too sentimental. I gotta keep up my ‘mysterious’ reputation, remember?”
A laugh spills from you, light and unrestrained, as you roll your eyes in amusement. “Oh, you’re plenty mysterious. Half the time, I still can’t tell if you’re serious or just messing with me.”
He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back further into your lap as if he’s completely relaxed—the picture of contentment.
“You should know by now…” he murmurs, feigning seriousness as he closes his eyes, “…it’s usually both.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, barely hiding the smirk he’s trying to restrain, and you can’t help but shake your head, grinning at his theatrics.
“Well… for the record,” your voice naturally softens, “I think a little tenderness suits you.”
One eye flicks open at your words, his brow quirking as he regards you with amused curiosity. Closing his eye again, his smirk deepens as he nestles further into your lap.
“Oh, does it?” he murmurs lazily, but there’s no mistaking the glint of interest coloring his tone.
“Yup,” you reply, leaning back on your hands and glancing up at the sky with feigned indifference. “I dunno… it’s kinda cute, actually.”
The words slip out like a quiet confession, and you notice the shift in him immediately—a subtle but unmistakable change.
Unable to keep up his act any longer, a bright, satisfied grin breaks across his face as he sits up—lifting his head from your lap—and his fingers slip through yours, intertwining and pulling you near him.
“Cute?” his voice drops as he brings his face achingly close to yours. “Careful now… saying things like that? You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
You feel your heart pounding—the thrill of his closeness electrifying as his breath fans your skin, but you hold his gaze boldly with a smirk.
“Well, maybe I like a little trouble,” you whisper back.
A playful growl rumbles in his chest, his smirk deepening as he tightens his grip on your intertwined hands.
“Oh… now you’re really asking for it. You’re officially in trouble.”
In one swift motion, he wraps his arms around you—sending you both tumbling back into the soft bed of leaves. The world around you blurs into a whirl of amber and gold as laughter escapes your lips, filling the crisp autumn air. But as you settle, your laughter fades, leaving only a quiet, shared breath between you and a gentle smile lingering on both your faces.
Hovering above you, his gaze softens as the leaves cradle you beneath their rustling blanket. It’s as though he’s committing every detail to memory as his eyes trace each curve and contour of your face, and you take in a quiet breath as his hand finds its way up your cheek—brushing over your skin and making you melt under his touch.
“Gotcha,” he whispers, brushing his nose gently against yours.
A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your pulse quickening as his proximity becomes all-consuming. Still, you muster a playful eye-roll, though the warmth in your gaze betrays your affection.
“Is this your idea of ‘assessing the situation,’?”
“Absolutely,” he murmurs, eyes softening. “God, you’re beautiful…”
The sincerity in his voice leaves you breathless, and a warmth blooms in your cheeks that reaches all the way to your heart. Before you can respond, he closes the distance—his lips capturing yours in a kiss so soft, so achingly tender, it leaves you dizzy.
As he deepens the kiss, a soft sigh escapes you, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Each brush of his lips is slow, deliberate—and everything else fades into nothingness, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the press of his lips, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats entwined.
But just as you’re about to melt entirely into him, a tiny voice breaks through the haze of warmth and closeness.
“Hey!” Haru’s voice calls out, stern and unwavering. “Bad ‘toru!”
Pulling back, Satoru groans softly, chuckling under his breath. His gaze flicks to Haru, who stands with her hands on her hips, looking every bit the tiny but fierce protector. He drops his head in defeat, shooting you a look of amused resignation.
“Well, looks like we’ve been caught,” he whispers, brushing a stray leaf from your hair with a soft, lingering touch.
You stifle a laugh, trying to keep your composure as you glance back at Haru.
“We should probably get back to her before she starts scolding you again,” you sigh, rising to your feet with his help.
“Yeah, I don’t think I can handle another ‘squishing’ intervention,” he mutters, intertwining his fingers with yours as you both walk back to Haru, who’s watching the two of you with narrowed, all-seeing eyes.
With the sun dipping lower in the sky, it paints the fields in shades of amber and gold. The three of you make your way back toward the entrance of the pumpkin patch—Haru skipping along, her small hands clasped in both of yours as she chatters excitedly about everything she saw—even as the day winds down.
But as you approach the entrance, ready to leave this little haven of laughter and leaves behind, a quiet warmth settles in your chest—a feeling that this moment, this fleeting, joyful day with the people you cherish most, is a memory you’ll carry with you. This is your little family, and it’s worth all the chases, all the whispers, all the adventures.
For now, that’s all that matters.
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thanks for reading this special little fall chapter! satoru is such a cutie pie with haru 🥹 i really wanted to have this out before october ended, but alas, my perfectionism kept holding me back 😅 anyways, ch 7 is indeed in the works—that'll be my next post, and it will be out by the end of this month. i appreciate you all being so patient, hope you had a lovely halloween 🎃 -aly 💛
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taglist:
@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie
@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie
@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana
@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher
@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7
@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean
@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg
@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy
@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff
@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans @gojoslefttoenail
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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 hours ago
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Antiusurpation and the road to disenshittification
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THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.
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Nineties kids had a good reason to be excited about the internet's promise of disintermediation: the gatekeepers who controlled our access to culture, politics, and opportunity were crooked as hell, and besides, they sucked.
For a second there, we really did get a lot of disintermediation, which created a big, weird, diverse pluralistic space for all kinds of voices, ideas, identities, hobbies, businesses and movements. Lots of these were either deeply objectionable or really stupid, or both, but there was also so much cool stuff on the old, good internet.
Then, after about ten seconds of sheer joy, we got all-new gatekeepers, who were at least as bad, and even more powerful, than the old ones. The net became Tom Eastman's "Five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of the other four." Culture, politics, finance, news, and especially power have been gathered into the hands of unaccountable, greedy, and often cruel intermediaries.
Oh, also, we had an election.
This isn't an election post. I have many thoughts about the election, but they're still these big, unformed blobs of anger, fear and sorrow. Experience teaches me that the only way to get past this is to just let all that bad stuff sit for a while and offgas its most noxious compounds, so that I can handle it safely and figure out what to do with it.
While I wait that out, I'm just getting the job done. Chop wood, carry water. I've got a book to write, Enshittification, for Farar, Straus, Giroux's MCD Books, and it's very nearly done:
https://twitter.com/search?q=from%3Adoctorow+%23dailywords&src=typed_query&f=live
Compartmentalizing my anxieties and plowing that energy into productive work isn't necessarily the healthiest coping strategy, but it's not the worst, either. It's how I wrote nine books during the covid lockdowns.
And sometimes, when you're not staring directly at something, you get past the tunnel vision that makes it impossible to see its edges, fracture lines, and weak points.
So I'm working on the book. It's a book about platforms, because enshittification is a phenomenon that is most visible and toxic on platforms. Platforms are intermediaries, who connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, workers and employers, politicians and voters, activists and crowds, as well as families, communities, and would-be romantic partners.
There's a reason we keep reinventing these intermediaries: they're useful. Like, it's technically possible for a writer to also be their own editor, printer, distributor, promoter and sales-force:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation
But without middlemen, those are the only writers we'll get. The set of all writers who have something to say that I want to read is much larger than the set of all writers who are capable of running their own publishing operation.
The problem isn't middlemen: the problem is powerful middlemen. When an intermediary gets powerful enough to usurp the relationship between the parties on either side of the transaction, everything turns to shit:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/
A dating service that faces pressure from competition, regulation, interoperability and a committed workforce will try as hard as it can to help you find Your Person. A dating service that buys up all its competitors, cows its workforce, captures its regulators and harnesses IP law to block interoperators will redesign its service so that you keep paying forever, and never find love:
https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2024/02/13/1228749143/the-dating-app-paradox-why-dating-apps-may-be-worse-than-ever
Multiply this a millionfold, in every sector of our complex, high-tech world where we necessarily rely on skilled intermediaries to handle technical aspects of our lives that we can't – or shouldn't – manage ourselves. That world is beholden to predators who screw us and screw us and screw us, jacking up our rents:
https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/yes-there-are-antitrust-voters-in
Cranking up the price of food:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy
And everything else:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens
(Maybe this is a post about the election after all?)
The difference between a helpmeet and a parasite is power. If we want to enjoy the benefits of intermediaries without the risks, we need policies that keep middlemen weak. That's the opposite of the system we have now.
Take interoperability and IP law. Interoperability (basically, plugging new things into existing things) is a really powerful check against powerful middlemen. If you rely on an ad-exchange to fund your newsgathering and they start ripping you off, then an interoperable system that lets you use a different exchange will not only end the rip off – it'll make it less likely to happen in the first place because the ad-tech platform will be afraid of losing your business:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-shatter-ad-tech
Interoperability means that when a printer company gouges you on ink, you can buy cheap third party ink cartridges and escape their grasp forever:
https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer
Interoperability means that when Amazon rips off audiobook authors to the tune of $100m, those authors can pull their books from Amazon and sell them elsewhere and know that their listeners can move their libraries over to a different app:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/07/audible-exclusive/#audiblegate
But interoperability has been in retreat for 40 years, as IP law has expanded to criminalize otherwise normal activities, so that middlemen can use IP rights to protect themselves from their end-users and business customers:
https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/
That's what I mean when I say that "IP" is "any law that lets a business reach beyond its own walls and control the actions of its customers, competitors and critics."
For example, there's a pernicious law 1998 US law that I write about all the time, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the "anticircumvention law." This is a law that felonizes tampering with copyright locks, even if you are the creator of the undelying work.
So Amazon – the owner of the monopoly audiobook platform Audible – puts a mandatory copyright lock around every audiobook they sell. I, as an author who writes, finances and narrates the audiobook, can't provide you, my customer, with a tool to remove that lock. If I do so, I face criminal sanctions: a five year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine for a first offense:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff
In other words: if I let you take my own copyrighted work out of Amazon's app, I commit a felony, with penalties that are far stiffer than the penalties you would face if you were to simply pirate that audiobook. The penalties for you shoplifting the audiobook on CD at a truck-stop are lower than the penalties the author and publisher of the book would face if they simply gave you a tool to de-Amazon the file. Indeed, even if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CDs, you'd probably be looking at a shorter sentence.
This is a law that is purpose-built to encourage intermediaries to usurp the relationship between buyers and sellers, creators and audiences. It's a charter for parasitism and predation.
But as bad as that is, there's another aspect of DMCA 1201 that's even worse: the exemptions process.
You might have read recently about the Copyright Office "freeing the McFlurry" by granting a DMCA 1201 exemption for companies that want to reverse-engineer the error-codes from McDonald's finicky, unreliable frozen custard machines:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/28/mcbroken/#my-milkshake-brings-all-the-lawyers-to-the-yard
Under DMCA 1201, the Copyright Office hears petitions for these exemptions every three years. If they judge that anticircumvention law is interfering with some legitimate activity, the statute empowers them to grant an exemption.
When the DMCA passed in 1998 (and when the US Trade Rep pressured other world governments into passing nearly identical laws in the decades that followed), this exemptions process was billed as a "pressure valve" that would prevent abuses of anticircumvention law.
But this was a cynical trick. The way the law is structured, the Copyright Office can only grant "use" exemptions, but not "tools" exemptions. So if you are granted the right to move Audible audiobooks into a third-party app, you are personally required to figure out how to do that. You have to dump the machine code of the Audible app, decompile it, scan it for vulnerabilities, and bootstrap your own jailbreaking program to take Audible wrapper off the file.
No one is allowed to help you with this. You aren't allowed to discuss any of this publicly, or share a tool that you make with anyone else. Doing any of this is a potential felony.
In other words, DMCA 1201 gives intermediaries power over you, but bans you from asking an intermediary to help you escape another abusive middleman.
This is the exact opposite of how intermediary law should work. We should have rules that ban intermediaries from exercising undue power over the parties they serve, and we should have rules empowering intermediaries to erode the advantage of powerful intermediaries.
The fact that the Copyright Office grants you an exemption to anticircumvention law means nothing unless you can delegate that right to an intermediary who can exercise it on your behalf.
A world without publishing intermediaries is one in which the only writers who thrive are the ones capable of being publishers, too, and that's a tiny fraction of all the writers with something to say.
A world without interoperability intermediaries is one in which the only platform users who thrive are also skilled reverse-engineering ninja hackers – and that's an infinitesimal fraction of the platform users who would benefit from interoperabilty.
Let this be your north star in evaluating platform regulation proposals. Platform regulation should weaken intermediaries' powers over their users, and strengthen their power over other middlemen.
Put in this light, it's easy to see why the ill-informed calls to abolish Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act (which makes platform users, not platforms, responsible for most unlawful speech) are so misguided:
https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/
If we require platforms to surveil all user speech and block anything that might violate any law, we give the largest, most powerful platforms a permanent advantage over smaller, better platforms, run by co-ops, hobbyists, nonprofits local governments, and startups. The big platforms have the capital to rig up massive, automated surveillance and censorship systems, and the only alternatives that can spring up have to be just as big and powerful as the Big Tech platforms we're so desperate to escape:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/23/evacuate-the-platforms/#let-the-platforms-burn
This is especially grave given the current political current, where fascist politicians are threatening platforms with brutal punishments for failing to censor disfavored political views.
Anyone who tells you that "it's only censorship when the government does it" is badly confused. It's only a First Amendment violation when the government does it, sure – but censorship has always relied on intermediaries. From the Inquisition to the Comics Code, government censors were only able to do their jobs because powerful middlemen, fearing state punishments, blocked anything that might cross the line, censoring far beyond the material actually prohibited by the law:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos
We live in a world of powerful, corrupt middlemen. From payments to real-estate, from job-search to romance, there's a legion of parasites masquerading as helpmeets, burying their greedy mouthparts into our tender flesh:
https://www.capitalisnt.com/episodes/visas-hidden-tax-on-americans
But intermediaries aren't the problem. You shouldn't have to stand up your own payment processor, or learn the ins and outs of real-estate law, or start your own single's bar. The problem is power, not intermediation.
As we set out to build a new, good internet (with a lot less help from the US government than seemed likely as recently as last week), let's remember that lesson: the point isn't disintermediation, it's weak intermediation.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/07/usurpers-helpmeets/#disreintermediation
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Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en (Image: Cryteria, CC BY 3.0, modified)
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1d1195 · 2 days ago
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Made to Be - Extra IV
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Read Made to Be here | ~1.8k words
From me: I was just thinking about them (probs because I'm always thinking about school. This take place sometime between January and the second extra (pre-baby stuff). This is just a really quick little thing until I can write something of merit. I believe I'm almost caught up at work. I think I might be able to write something more substantial this week 💕 Thank you for being patient and kind.
Warnings: none, fluffy cute stuff.
Summary: Harry's not the only one who thinks she was made to be a teacher.
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May
“I think we should outlaw field trips,” she mumbled sitting beside Harry in the front seat of the bus.
He chuckled. “It will be fun, kitten,” he assured her.
“Fun for you maybe. You got the good group of kids to chaperone.”
“I’ll give y’group a lecture before we split up, angel,” he promised. Harry snagged her hand from her lap and gave it a gentle squeeze. They tried not to be overly affectionate in front of the students because they didn’t want it to be weird...not that it was weird. But it was definitely something in their eyes. “Y’know they only gave y’a tough group because y’can handle it and they love you.”
She sighed. “I know, I know.”
They were dressed comfortably for the history museum trip. Business casual that made Harry think she was modeling for teachers in textbooks. She was so pretty it made his heart skip a beat.
She had been telling Harry how excited she was to go on the trip up until she got the names of the group she was chaperoning. She was especially excited because schools always got great discounts for museums that she generally hated to pay for. But not even the group rate was enough to make her enthusiasm spike. She fiddled nervously with her engagement ring dangling on her necklace. Harry truly outdid himself and wearing the ring on her finger in the city made her nervous so she opted for the necklace so she could tuck it away safely. (But she assured Harry the thought of taking it off made her feel naked.) Until it was tucked away, Harry smiled, self-satisfied as she twisted it on the silver chain. That pretty diamond glittering in the sun coming through the window of the bus made him so happy. The little symbol that they’d be together forever. She was made for him. He was certain.
He almost forgot he was supposed to be comforting her. It was loud behind them. Not excessive, but when forty something students chattered in an enclosed area, it always got a bit loud and also didn’t help his train of thought. “They’ll pull it together for you,” he draped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. The kids would have to deal.
“Aw!” Someone droned. Her cheeks heated briefly but Harry turned in his seat and glared so that the sound was cut off quickly.
“Jus’ show them all y’favorite things,” he shrugged.
“My nightmare is losing a student on a trip,” she sighed. “This is so stressful.”
“They’re not little ones, m’love,” he reminded her. “They can wander a bit and they’ll be okay. S’not like they don’t all go to the mall on their own and whatnot. Plus, I’d never let y’take the fall for losing one of them. We’d find them. M’sure a lot of parents wouldn’t either. But s’not going t’happen.”
She nodded. Then she sighed heavily and squeezed his hand back. “You’re right.”
“Mm, music t’my ears,” he grinned.
“Don’t push it.”
*
But Harry was right. Her group of students who were usually a rough and tumble kind of bunch really got into the trip. At first they were quiet, almost shy. But she acted as if she didn’t notice and told them all about the exhibits they encountered and explained as much as she could. She did her best to connect the displays to their own lives so they would care more.
As such, they walked right along with her and forgot their shyness. They asked intelligent follow up questions after she explained what they were looking at. They followed all her directions and even asked her for more information about the information she told them as they walked through the rooms. She was going to boost their grades when they got back to school with bonus points for being so good and learning at the same time.
The relief was exhilarating.
About part way through the morning, her group of eight needed a bathroom break. She waited outside the bathrooms and checked her phone for any kind of emergency. Harry texted to check in on her, so she answered to let him know how good her group was and how happy she was to be on the trip again.
“School trip?”
She looked up instinctively, the lanyard around her neck was the only thing that marked her as an adult in comparison to her students. Her slightly shorter frame didn’t compare to the boys she taught who often towered over her. She thought she usually looked the part of being a teacher. She felt it was written on her face (or maybe it was the headband with the Treaty of Versailles printed on the fabric and her pencil earrings that gave it away). The man before wasn’t one of her coworkers but he had a lanyard around his neck from a school she hadn’t heard of before.
She nodded. “Oh yeah, drove an hour in,” she cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Same here. About an hour and a half. You’re a history teacher as well?” He asked.
Her students were still in the restroom, so she cleared her throat again and nodded. “Yes, World History.”
“Same here, where are you in the curriculum right now?”
“We just finished up the Industrial Revolution. About to start Imperialism.”
“Fun stuff! You know, one of my students heard you talking about the Enigma exhibit. Said I left out a ton of information that you seemed to know a lot more about.”
She chuckled. “I see, sorry about that,” she smiled politely. “I get a little too into Bletchley Park.”
“Don’t we all.”
“Miss,” one of her students said suddenly appearing from the bathroom with two others. She glanced toward the men’s bathroom but didn’t see any of them just yet. “Can we pop into the giftshop?”
She glanced at her watch. “I think we have time for that, scope it out before everyone else at the end of the day. We have lunch in about an hour.”
“Are you all eating here, in the food court?”
“I think we’re eating outside,” she said. “Nice day and all... I think the boys are coming out now,” she smiled at her student. “Nice meeting you. Enjoy the museum,” she ushered her students toward the men’s room and sighed.
“Was he hitting on you, Miss?” She whispered.
“Shh.”
“Okay, queen,” she giggled. “Are you going to tell Mr. Styles?”
“He wasn’t hitting on me.”
“Miss,” she laughed. “He was so hitting on you.”
“I didn’t—”
“Who was hitting on her?” One of the boys asked.
“No one—”
“That guy.”
“Oooh, he’s cute. Wait until Mr. Styles finds out he has competition.”
“Miss, I think we have to intimidate him,” another one of the boys explained knowingly. “It’s what Mr. Styles would want.”
“Oh, my word,” she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we go to the giftshop?”
*
“Everyone please look in the seat next to you and check if the person you travelled with on the way here is still here! We’re doing a final headcount as soon as we’re all seated.”
“Mr. Styles!” One of her group members sang. She glared at him briefly with her best teacher stare before she sat facing forward in her seat. Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
“Yes? Didn’t y’torture m’fiancée enough today?”
“I would never torture her! But your fiancée got hit on by a guy by the bathroom!” He shouted.
The resounding oohs from the entire bus made her blush. She looked straight forward at the seatback in front of her. “Really?” He smiled and glanced down at the pretty girl beside him.
She shook her head. “He was not flirting.”
“Course he was, Miss! You’re a total catch!” The girl in her group called back.
“She’s right, y’know,” he winked at her knowingly, his voice was low. Maybe only one or two students heard Harry say it and they were kind enough to giggle and not make a scene of it or embarrass her further. “Alright, alright, head count!”
She stayed put while Harry walked up and down the aisle. When he returned to the front, he told the bus driver that everyone was accounted for and they could go on their way.
“Hiding your affair from me?” He winked.
“Shut up.”
He chuckled and grabbed her hand from her lap and brought her fingers to his lips briefly. “S’no surprise, really.”
“It’s probably because my ring was inside my shirt.”
“Lucky ring,” he hummed.
“Harry,” she hissed.
“The man has good taste, kitten,” he shrugged. “M’not surprised at all.”
She sighed. “I wasn’t hiding it from you. I just didn’t want to make you jealous. I don’t want you to think you have anything to be jealous of, you know?”
“I know, I know,” his voice was so kind and soft. The way he sounded when they were falling asleep. It was quiet and warm. If they weren’t in front of forty something students, he probably would have held her cheek and kissed her the way he did every night. Would have traced her features and told her how much he loved her. “You’re jus’ so pretty, so nice, so lovely that anyone with half a brain cell can see it from across the room,” he assured her. Her relief was massive. The idea of hurting Harry’s feelings or betraying his trust was one of her worst fears. She pulled the necklace from its spot and twisted it again and Harry’s smile grew. “God,” he shook his head. Then he squeezed her hand three quick times. She squeezed it back four times in succession. Both knew what it meant. A not quite secret that they loved each other.
She was always grateful for Harry coming into her life. The day she left her old school and got her new job was so scary and sad. In hindsight, she would have told herself in her first year of teaching that a new school was in her future, and she was going to meet a man that was everything she wanted and more.
Someone who was made for her.
“What?” He smirked. The sun was setting and bathing the bus in a soft golden light that only highlighted how handsome Harry was.
“Just thinking about how jealous I would be if a girl flirted with you on a field trip. You have way more kindness than I do.”
“Oh, don’t worry, kitten,” he mumbled and brought his mouth to her ear. “M’going t’show you how crazy the thought of another guy chatting y’up makes me later. Remind you that y’don’t need anyone else. Ever,” he promised and pressed a chaste kiss that did not match the intensity of his words.
Her cheeks warmed once more but she smiled. Shaking her head she squeezed his hand three more times.
--
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ghostlyglimmer · 6 hours ago
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OHH, this is such a fun idea, I had to whip up something based on this!
It had all gone downhill fast.
The plan had been Dick’s idea—though Tim and Jason definitely could have pointed out the glaring holes in it, and Damian hadn’t exactly offered his usual dose of cynicism. It was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out operation. Minimal risk, maximum payoff.
But things got complicated when that guy showed up. Just some kid, and not even a vigilante or a rogue. It was supposed to be a straightforward job in Gotham’s shadier district—stop the exchange of a highly dangerous chemical, break up the bad guys, be home in time for breakfast. But, no, some civilian had gotten in the way and distracted the gangsters long enough to mess with their timing.
As Jason would tell it later, “It was just bad luck.” As Bruce would say, “It was complete negligence.”
And as for Danny? Well, he didn’t have much of a say in it. Not that he was about to back down from a bunch of armed gangsters, especially with the Batkids swooping in around him, leaving chaos and knocked-out criminals in their wake. Danny had handled a few of them before they even showed up, quietly taking out the last of them when Bruce finally stepped in.
And now they were here, a tense, heated argument in a dark Gotham alley.
“You should have waited for backup!” Bruce snapped, his voice slicing through their squabbles. “I told you it was a risk to go in alone—especially when we didn’t have all the intel! This is about safety, and clearly—”
“Right, clearly we were fine until you stepped in,” Jason shot back, scowling.
“It would have gone smoothly if someone didn’t just happen to be there,” Dick muttered, clearly feeling defensive.
“It was your idea, Grayson!” Tim hissed, his voice laden with frustration. “Don’t turn this around.”
“Maybe if you’d listened—”
Damian scoffed. “I could have handled them on my own.”
Bruce’s frown deepened, and he turned to Danny, who was awkwardly inching his way toward the exit.
“And don’t think you’re getting out of this,” Bruce said, turning his Batglare on him. “You’re grounded too.”
Danny froze, one foot halfway lifted in a tippy-toe pose. “I… I’m sorry, what?”
The Batkids stopped mid-argument and looked at Danny, then back at Bruce, then at each other, as if piecing something together. Dick’s face morphed from irritation to confusion; Jason’s went slack.
“Uh… Mr. Batman, sir, with all due respect, I’m just some guy,” Danny said slowly, staring at Bruce. “Can… Can Batman even do that?”
“Everyone in the Batmobile,” Bruce said firmly, ignoring Danny’s question. “We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”
Danny, still too stunned to process much beyond “Batman grounded me,” felt himself nodding along. Guess we’re going with it.
The ride was silent and tense. Jason looked broody, arms crossed, staring out the window. Tim rubbed his temples, probably rethinking every tactical choice. Dick was sulking, and Damian, surprisingly, just looked mad at being lumped in with the others. Danny, meanwhile, stayed very still, wedged between Tim and Jason, trying not to breathe too loudly. It was a surreal experience—he was tired, his limbs ached, and his brain was reeling from the absurdity of it all, but it was Batman. The Batmobile wasn’t exactly the place to make his objections.
By the time they reached the Batcave, Danny figured he’d try for some clarity.
“Uh,” he started, looking around at the cavernous space, vast and impressive, filled with tech and lights. “So, do you mind if I, uh, call my family to tell them I won’t be home tonight?”
The entire cave fell silent. Jason froze mid-complaint, Dick and Tim stopped sulking, and Damian’s scowl melted into shock. All four of them stared at Danny, and then slowly, like someone had hit pause, their heads turned to look at Bruce.
He seemed unbothered, glancing at Danny as if this were just standard procedure. But for everyone else, the realization was dawning. Dick was the first to speak, his voice wavering.
“Uh… Bruce?” Dick asked slowly, eyebrows raised. “Did… Did you kidnap a civilian?”
Bruce frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jason burst out laughing, doubling over, his hands clutching his sides. “Oh, this is gold. He’s not even a rogue, B. He’s just some random guy you told to get in the car!”
Danny held up his hands. “In my defense, it was Batman, okay? Who’s going to not get in the Batmobile when Batman tells you you’re grounded?”
Tim covered his face with both hands, muffling his laugh. Damian scowled, crossing his arms.
“This is embarrassing,” he muttered. “Father, you’re losing credibility by the second.”
Bruce’s expression tightened, clearly irked by the fact that his kids’ attention had wandered from the initial issue. They had disobeyed him, endangered a civilian, and now they were laughing because, okay, maybe he had unintentionally forced said civilian to join them in the Batcave.
He sighed, rubbing his temples, clearly rethinking several recent decisions.
“Alright,” Bruce finally said. “My apologies. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you don’t need to be here. We’ll get you a ride back home.”
Danny blinked, a little surprised. “So, wait, I’m not grounded?”
“No, you’re not grounded,” Bruce replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Jason snickered. “Damn, you got off easy. We’re grounded for sure.”
Bruce cleared his throat, and the smiles faded from the other Batkids’ faces. “Yes, you’re grounded,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “All of you.”
They groaned in unison, but Danny, relieved beyond measure, was already edging toward the door. He nodded a quick thank you to Batman and managed a small, awkward wave to the others.
As he left, he could hear Dick muttering, “Grounded… from what? We’re grown men!”
Jason groaned. “Grounded as in, no solo missions, genius.”
Danny paused, letting the sounds of the Batfamily’s complaints echo behind him as he took the lift back to ground level. He shook his head, chuckling. Only in Gotham. Only with Batman would you end up “grounded” for just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But hey—at least he got a free ride in the Batmobile out of it.
Imagine the batkids fuck up major and a batdad had to step in and clean up their mistake
Everyone kinda embarrassed because of their blunder and Jason is lashing out to protect himself from shame
Dick is joining is cause well he feels bad about it being his idea
Now Tim is arguing too
Damian wants to feel involved and u can’t convince me other wise
Bruce is trying ti make a point about safety thats just fully derailed
Anyway Danny as Fenton is just there in the background around all the bad guys he took out before Bruce actually got there like “awkward” but the moment he tries to just tippytoe his way out Bruce turns to point at him “and don’t think you are getting out of this. Your grounded too”
He just freezes. Can batman do that? Is he legally allowed to do that? Wait what does Batman mean by grounded?!!? Whats his move here.
“Everyone in the batmobile we will discuss this more in the morning”
Oh ok thats his move. Ok yea Batman just grounded him. He better go.
So they r having the ride home and everyone is sulking and Danny is just there confused but doesn’t say anything because hes probably tired and it’s batman wtf you gonna do.
So they are at the cave and Danny finally just “so can I call my family to tell them I wont be home tonight?”
You everyone just stops. And slowly turns to face him. “Ah yea dumb question. I guess uhhh no phones huh?” No one moves. Everyone is pretty shocked. Cause one bruce kidnapped some kid. Two theres a civi in the batcave. Three bruce kidnapped some fucking kid. Four some random kid just got in the car with them. Five holy fuck bruce kidnapped some kid.
Breaks over enjoy post
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the-winter-spider · 23 hours ago
Text
Mine | One Shot
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Parings: Bucky x Reader AU
Word count: 10k+
Warnings: Probably the fluffiest thing ive ever written, of course angst.
A/N: Yall this AU bucky branch ive extended has been life changing for me lmaoooo
The first time you meet Bucky Barnes, he’s already looking at you, a soft, open look in his eyes that sends a jolt through you. You’ve just started a new job in town and ended up here at a cozy, dimly lit bar one night after work. You sit down a few stools away, glancing over at him—he’s warm, approachable, not exactly the type you’d expect to find sitting alone.
You look away quickly, heart suddenly racing, though you’re not sure why. He’s a stranger, just someone you’ll see tonight and probably never again, but something about him feels safe in a way you haven’t felt in years.
A few minutes later, he moves closer, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Rough day?” he asks, voice gentle, as if he’s been waiting for you to say something first.
You nod, a little surprised by both his forwardness and the kindness in his tone. You’re used to handling things on your own, keeping walls up that no one’s ever bothered to climb. But something about Bucky makes you want to drop your guard, if only for a moment.
You offer Bucky a small smile, feeling strangely at ease under his gaze. “Yeah, you could say that,” you reply, letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s been… a long week. Just finished my first week at a new job, and I’m still finding my footing. Everything’s just a bit overwhelming, you know?”
Bucky nods, understanding flashing in his eyes. “New job, new town?” he asks, his tone inviting, like he genuinely wants to know, not just make conversation.
You nod, surprised at how easy it feels to open up. “Yeah, both, actually. I just moved here, so it’s been a lot of… adjustment.”
He tilts his head, his expression warm and reassuring. “That’s a lot to take on. I remember when I first moved here… let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a smooth transition.” He chuckles softly, the sound low and comforting, and you can’t help but smile.
“Really?” you ask, curious despite yourself. “What brought you here?”
His gaze softens as he considers the question, as though he’s debating just how much to share. “Needed a fresh start,” he says simply, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes. “Figured this was a good place to do that.”
You feel a pang of recognition—you understand that need to start over, to build something new. “I get that,” you murmur. “Sometimes… sometimes you just need a change to get things back on track.”
“Exactly,” he replies, his eyes brightening as he leans a little closer. “Sounds like we might have a bit in common, then.”
There’s a brief silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like the two of you are sharing something without needing to say it outright. You feel your usual guardedness slipping, replaced by a warmth that’s both thrilling and unsettling. It’s strange—he’s still a stranger, and yet he feels familiar, like someone you could trust, someone who understands.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his voice gentle, his gaze steady. “Just to celebrate surviving the first week. It’s no small thing.”
You smile, nodding as a rush of gratitude fills you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Bucky signals to the bartender, ordering two drinks and settling back beside you, his posture relaxed. Bucky leans in, a warm smile lighting up his face as he listens, his full attention on you. It’s like he’s hanging on every word, nodding and chuckling at all the right moments, his eyes crinkling at the corners every time you say something that amuses him.
“So, then,” you continue, trying to hold back a laugh as you recall the memory, “I walked into what I thought was the meeting room, you know, just trying to make a good first impression… only to realize it was the break room. And everyone just kind of stared at me like I was some intruder there to steal their coffee.”
Bucky lets out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. “Oh no! And you didn’t just play it cool?”
You grin, rolling your eyes. “Nope, not at all. I panicked and mumbled something about being ‘lost’—in the most literal sense. And then, to top it off, I nearly backed into a coffee machine trying to escape!"
He laughs harder, the sound warm and genuine, filling the space between you. “I think that’s endearing,” he says, his tone sincere. “Bet they thought you were charming.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” you say sarcastically, unable to hide your smile. “If by ‘charming’ you mean they think I’m the odd one in the office now, then yeah, absolutely. As if being the 'new girl' wasnt enough"
He smirks, leaning his chin on his hand as he watches you, that mischievous glint still in his eyes. “Hey, at least you’re memorable. It’s not every day people meet someone with personality.”
You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, so I have ‘personality’ now?”
“Definitely,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re… different. In a good way.” His gaze softens, and for a moment, you see something more serious flicker in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip a beat.
Trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest, you shake your head, focusing on lightening the mood. “So,” you say, grinning, “what about you? Any embarrassing first-day stories?”
He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, way too many,” he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “When I started at my last job, they had this big company lunch. I was so nervous that I accidentally grabbed the CEO’s sandwich off his plate, thinking it was from the catering table.”
Your jaw drops. “No! What did you do?”
He laughs, shaking his head at the memory. “Honestly? I didn’t even realize until I’d taken the first bite. The CEO looked at me, just stunned, and I kind of just froze, sandwich halfway to my mouth. I thought for sure I was going to get fired on the spot.”
You’re laughing so hard you nearly spill your drink. “So, did he say anything?”
“Oh, he said plenty,” Bucky says, chuckling along with you. “But, somehow, he found it funny. Or maybe he just took pity on me, who knows? Either way, I survived, but I don’t think I’ll ever live it down.”
You both sit there, laughter fading into comfortable silence as you sip your drinks, sharing those lighthearted moments and embarrassing stories that somehow make you feel closer. After a few beats, he glances at you, his expression softening.
“It’s nice, you know… hearing all this,” he says quietly. “Feels like I’m getting to know the real you.”
Your cheeks flush, but his words make you feel seen in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. “Yeah… I think maybe you are,” you say softly.
His gaze holds yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you. And as you sit together, in the dim light of the bar with laughter still lingering in the air, you realize that this—this feeling of being understood, of being truly known—is something you didn’t even know you were missing. And with Bucky, it feels like you’re finally finding it.
By the time you’re finishing your second drink, you’re feeling lighter, the weight of the past week fading away, replaced by a warmth that seems to linger between you and Bucky.
“Well,” he says after a moment, glancing at his watch but making no move to leave. “Thank you for letting me share your first-week celebration. I don’t know about you, but I’d say this is the best part of any first week—meeting someone you didn’t expect to.”
You blush, looking down with a shy smile. “Yeah… me too.”
A comfortable silence settles between you, and in the back of your mind, you realize you’re hoping this won’t be the last time you see him. Maybe he feels the same way, because as you gather your things to leave, he clears his throat, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.
“So, listen… if you ever want some company after work or need someone to talk to about the craziness of starting over, I’d be happy to be that person,” he says, his voice soft, a little uncertain.
Your heart skips a beat, and you smile, feeling that warmth spread through you again. “I’d like that, Bucky. I’d really like that.”
With one last shared smile, you both exchange numbers, a quiet promise lingering in the air that this, whatever it is, isn’t just a fleeting moment.
“You know,” he says, after a quiet moment, “if you’re free tomorrow, i can show you the best place for coffee in the morning.”
For reasons you can’t explain, you say yes. And it’s the first of many yeses you’ll say to him, even if you can’t shake the feeling that opening up to someone can only lead to getting hurt.
The next morning, you meet Bucky outside a quaint little café, the kind with mismatched chairs and hanging plants that give it a cozy, lived-in feel. Sunlight spills across the sidewalk, and there’s a crispness in the air that makes everything feel brighter, more hopeful.
You both order coffee and pastries and find a table outside. As you settle in, he looks over at you with that same soft, open smile that feels like a balm to your heart. You’re not sure if it’s the warmth of the coffee or his presence, but somehow you feel yourself letting go, leaning into the morning with him as if it’s a part of something bigger.
“So, did you always know you wanted to be here?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours.
You shake your head with a little laugh. “Not exactly. Moving here was… spontaneous. I just needed a change, I guess. I don’t know if it’s where I want to end up, but it feels like a good place to be, at least for now.”
He nods thoughtfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. Change is… good sometimes. Scary, but good.”
There’s a brief silence before you turn the question back on him. “What about you? Have you always been here?”
Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I bounced around a lot before I landed here. I’m from Brooklyn, actually. Grew up in a small apartment with my mom and sister, Rebecca. It wasn’t much, but it was home.”
He pauses, his gaze drifting, and you can see a fondness there, mingled with nostalgia. “My sister used to make me these ridiculous lunches for school. You know those sandwiches where it’s way too much peanut butter, like it’d practically glue your mouth shut?”
You laugh, picturing a young Bucky struggling with a lopsided sandwich. “So what, she was trying to get you to stop talking?”
“Maybe! It probably worked a few times,” he says with a grin. “She was older than me, and she loved teasing me. But she’d also defend me to the ends of the earth if I needed it. She was tough but loyal—still is. We used to spend summers playing stickball in the streets or riding our bikes down to the pier until the sun set. Those were good days.”
You find yourself smiling, caught up in the warmth of his stories. There’s something about the way he talks about his sister and his childhood that feels so genuine, so open, and it makes you feel safe somehow, like you could share parts of yourself that you usually keep hidden.
“Sounds like you were close,” you say softly.
“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “We still are, even though we don’t see each other as much these days. But you know how it is. Life gets busy, people drift….” He trails off, looking a little pensive, but then he catches your gaze and offers a reassuring smile. “But we still check in. She likes to give me a hard time about how I’ve ‘softened up’ over the years.”
“Oh, so you used to be a real troublemaker, huh?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe a little,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But only in the fun ways. My friends and I—especially my best friend, Steve—always found ways to keep things interesting. Steve was the wild one, though, always dragging me into things. He’d get these ideas—like, one summer, he convinced me we could make a raft and take it out on the East River.”
“Wait, you didn’t actually try that, did you?” you ask, laughing as you imagine two boys clinging to a makeshift raft.
“Oh, we tried,” Bucky says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It was a disaster. We were out there for maybe ten minutes before the whole thing started falling apart, and we ended up soaking wet, half-drowning, while everyone on the shore was just watching and laughing. My mom nearly had a heart attack when she found out.”
You laugh, clutching your coffee cup as you picture the scene. “So, I guess you didn’t end up the next great explorers of Brooklyn?”
“Nope, that dream died real fast,” he says, grinning. “But that was Steve for you—big dreams, no plans. I think that’s why we were close, though. He’d always push me to do things I wouldn’t even think about trying. He’d challenge me in ways that I didn’t know I needed. Kind of made me who I am today.”
You see a glimmer of nostalgia and perhaps a little sadness in his eyes as he talks about Steve, and you wonder if they’re still close. But before you can ask, he leans forward, his expression softening as he looks at you.
“So, how about you?” he asks, changing the subject. “Any siblings?”
You nod, taking a small sip of your coffee. “Yeah, an older brother. We were close growing up, but life kind of… pulled us in different directions. He was the one who kept me out of trouble, actually. He fled home as soon as he was old enough” You chuckle sadly “Always thought he was the responsible one, and I was the daydreamer. Guess some things never change.”
Bucky’s eyes light up, as if he’s seeing a new side of you. “Daydreamer, huh? What kind of dreams?”
The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to answer. But then you feel that familiar warmth between you, the kind that feels safe, inviting you to share a little more of yourself.
“Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” you admit softly. “I guess that’s part of why I moved here. Trying to figure it out, trying to find something that feels… real.”
He nods, his gaze understanding, as if he sees right through you in a way that’s both comforting and a little terrifying. “Well, I think that’s brave,” he says quietly. “Taking a leap, starting fresh… not everyone has the guts to do that.”
The way he says it, so genuine and reassuring, makes you feel like maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, like maybe the path isn’t as uncertain as it once felt.
The conversation drifts into comfortable silence, and you both take a moment to sip your coffee and enjoy the warmth of the sun. After a while, he leans back, his expression thoughtful as he looks over at you.
“You know, meeting someone like you… it’s kind of a rare thing,” he says, his voice soft but full of a sincerity that takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels… right.”
His words settle into your heart, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, a connection that feels deeper than anything you expected to find in a new town, with a man you’ve only just met. And in that moment, with the sunlight catching in his eyes, you feel a quiet certainty that this—whatever this is—might be the beginning of something real.
Over the next few weeks, life begins to settle into a new rhythm. Days are marked by coffee dates that turn into long walks down the quiet streets, and those walks stretch into late-night conversations on park benches under streetlights. Bucky has quickly become your favorite part of the day, and even though neither of you has spoken about how you feel, there’s a growing closeness—a feeling of inevitability that’s hard to ignore.
One night, after a cozy dinner together, you find yourselves lingering on a quiet bench, watching the lights of the city reflected on the river. The silence between you is easy, comfortable, but there’s an unspoken tension there, too—something that hovers in the space between words, in the quiet glances you both share.
Bucky looks over at you, a warm smile playing at his lips. “I can’t believe it’s only been a few weeks,” he says, his voice soft. “Feels like I’ve known you… longer.”
You nod, feeling your heart race at the sincerity in his eyes. “I know what you mean,” you murmur, glancing down to hide your own smile. “I don’t usually… open up to people like this. But with you, it just feels easy.”
He grins, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “So you’re saying I’m easy to talk to?”
You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Don’t get too cocky, Barnes. I’m just saying you have… potential.”
“Oh, potential, huh?” he teases, giving you a mock-hurt look. “Wow. Just when I thought I was doing well.”
You can’t help but laugh, feeling a lightness you hadn’t felt in a long time. Somehow, Bucky has a way of making you feel like yourself, like you don’t have to be anything other than exactly who you are.
As the night deepens, you both head home, reluctantly parting with lingering glances and unspoken words hanging in the air. But when you finally get home, your phone lights up with a text, and you feel a thrill run through you as you see Bucky’s name.
Bucky: So, I’m not getting cocky, but… any chance I passed the “potential” test?
You laugh, typing out a reply.
You: I’d say you’re doing okay… so far.
Almost immediately, he texts back.
Bucky: Just okay? You’re killing me here. I might have to try harder.
You: I think I can handle that.
There’s a pause, and you watch as the typing bubble pops up again, wondering what he’ll say next.
Bucky: Just so we’re clear, I’m pretty sure you’re the highlight of my day. Don’t tell anyone—I’ve got a reputation to maintain.
You feel your cheeks warm, smiling at your phone. It’s strange how quickly he’s managed to find his way into your heart, and even stranger how natural it feels to be talking to him like this.
You: Highlight of your day, huh? That’s some big talk, Barnes.
Bucky: It’s not just talk, sweet girl....I mean it.
You pause, taking in the sincerity of his words. For a second, you wonder if he can feel the same pull you do, the same feeling that this could be something real.
You: Guess I’ll see what you come up with next time.
Bucky: Oh, so now I’m being challenged? I’ll have to think of something special.
You: Good luck with that, I’m a tough critic.
Bucky: Challenge accepted, darling.
His use of the word “darling” sends a thrill through you, and you feel yourself blush, biting your lip as you smile at the screen. The lighthearted back-and-forth carries on into the night, each text feeling like another step closer to something you’re both tiptoeing around, something you’re both afraid to fully acknowledge yet.
And as you finally say goodnight, you feel a contented warmth settle over you, the kind that promises there’s something real here, something waiting to unfold. But for now, the unspoken words, the quiet glances, and the sweet, flirty texts are more than enough, leaving you falling asleep with a smile on your face.
--
One night, you’re both walking through a nearby park, the cool evening air wrapping around you. It’s late enough that the world feels almost empty, like the two of you are the only ones who know this quiet part of the city. You’re talking about your favorite childhood movies, laughing over memories, and you feel a lightness in you, a happiness that’s been dormant for so long you’d nearly forgotten it was there.
“So you’re telling me,” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow as he glances over at you, “that you actually dressed up as an elf for three Halloweens in a row because of Lord of the Rings?”
You laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. “Yes! I was obsessed. It was all I wanted to do for years. I think I had pointy ears stashed in every drawer.”
Bucky grins, his eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe I missed out on that... bet you made a cute elf.”
“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, trying to stifle a laugh. “It was… an intense phase. I still cringe a little thinking about it.”
“I don’t know,” he says, nudging you playfully. “I think it sounds perfect. I used to dress up as a knight when I was a kid. One time, I even convinced Steve to be the dragon.”
You laugh, picturing a younger version of him, full of life and laughter. “Please tell me there’s photographic evidence of that.”
“There might be,” he teases, smirking. “But I think you’re going to have to stick around a little longer before I start sharing the embarrassing childhood photos.”
Something in his tone, playful yet sincere, makes your heart skip a beat. You realize how much you look forward to these moments, how he’s become a part of your life in a way you never saw coming. There’s a softness about him that pulls you in, a kindness that makes you feel safe, and the thought of seeing where this goes fills you with a quiet excitement.
You walk a bit further, the silence between you comfortable, and he glances over, a question lingering in his eyes. “So,” he starts, a little hesitant. “Are you… happy here? I mean, you said you needed a change. Do you feel like this is it?”
You think about his question, about how you arrived here hoping to find a fresh start, not knowing if it would ever feel like home. But now, as you stand beside him, there’s a sense of belonging that surprises you.
“Honestly?” you say, your voice soft. “I think I am. It’s strange, but being here… it’s like I can breathe again. Like maybe I can finally be myself, without all the expectations I left behind.”
Bucky nods, his expression thoughtful, and he stops walking for a moment, turning to face you. “I’m glad,” he says quietly, his gaze holding yours. “You deserve that. You deserve… to feel free.”
His words sink into you, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him, taking in the gentleness in his eyes, the warmth in his smile. It’s almost too much—the idea that someone could see you this clearly, understand you so deeply.
“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
He reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours in a simple, tender gesture. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I’m just glad I get to know you.”
There’s a vulnerability in his words that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re both standing there, the world around you quiet and still. You want to say something, to let him know how much he’s come to mean to you, how his presence feels like a light that’s brought you back to yourself. But the words catch in your throat, so instead, you simply squeeze his hand, letting the warmth of his touch speak for you.
----
Another evening, you’re both sitting on a small bench at the edge of the park, looking up at the stars. Bucky has his arm around you, pulling you close against the chill of the night, and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling a peace you haven’t felt in years.
“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks suddenly, his voice soft, as though he’s been thinking about the question for a while.
You’re quiet for a moment, surprised by the question. You used to avoid thinking about the future, unsure of where you fit in, always second-guessing yourself. But now, with him, the idea of the future doesn’t feel as daunting.
“Yeah,” you say finally. “I do. But it’s different now. I guess… I’m not so afraid of it anymore.”
He nods, a small smile on his face. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. He hesitates, glancing over at you. “I know we’re just… starting this, whatever it is, but I hope you know that I’m here, for all of it. I don’t… plan on going anywhere.”
The sincerity in his words makes you catch your breath, and you feel that familiar warmth rising in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper. You don’t say anything, instead reaching up to brush a gentle hand against his cheek, letting him know that you feel the same, even if the words are still forming in your heart.
As the night deepens, you sit there in a comfortable silence, his arm around you, his steady presence grounding you. And as you look up at the stars, you realize that for the first time in a long time, you’re not afraid of what lies ahead.
But yet, every time he leans a little closer, touches your hand, or tells you something vulnerable, you can’t help but feel that old anxiety creeping in, telling you to be careful. It’s as if you’re back to being a kid, watching your parents’ marriage shatter right in front of you. You’ve told yourself for years that love can’t be trusted, that letting people in only leads to pain.
---
One evening, when you’re sitting beside him at your favorite spot near the river, he reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re safe with me, you know?” he says softly, sensing the hesitation in your gaze.
The words linger in the air, and you look down, feeling your defenses rise again. “I don’t think you understand,” you murmur. “People leave. Or worse, they hurt you without even meaning to.”
Bucky takes your hand, holding it gently, grounding you. “I know,” he says quietly. “But maybe… maybe you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
The river flows quietly beside you both, the soft murmur of water filling the silence between you. Bucky’s hand is still gently wrapped around yours, grounding you with a warmth that feels both comforting and unfamiliar. Part of you wants to pull away, to shield yourself from the vulnerability you feel creeping in, but there’s something about him that makes you feel safe, even when the memories are so raw.
You take a shaky breath, finally letting your eyes meet his. “My parents… they didn’t have the kind of love that you read about, or see in movies. It was messy and… destructive. They fought constantly—screaming, blaming each other for everything wrong in their lives. Growing up, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. That love was meant to hurt.”
Bucky listens intently, his expression softening as you continue, no hint of judgment in his gaze. He’s just… there, holding space for you in a way that makes you feel seen, like you don’t have to hide.
You swallow, feeling the ache of those memories resurface. “I used to tell myself that when I grew up, I’d find someone who was different. Someone who wouldn’t treat me like my father treated my mother.” Your voice drops, barely a whisper now. “But when I left home, I fell for someone who was just like him. He was… careless, selfish. I gave everything I had because I thought that was what love was. And he hurt me, Bucky, over and over, but I convinced myself it was my fault, that if I just tried harder, he’d change.”
Bucky’s grip on your hand tightens, his gaze filled with a fierce protectiveness that you didn’t expect. You can see his jaw clench, as though he’s holding back words he wants to say, but he lets you continue, giving you the space you need.
“When he finally left,” you continue, your voice breaking slightly, “I felt… empty. Like I’d failed. Everyone always leaves, and somehow, I believed it was because of something I did or something I wasn’t. For a long time, I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.”
You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and before you can brush it away, Bucky reaches out, gently wiping it with his thumb. His touch is so tender, so careful, that it breaks something inside you, a wall you didn’t realize you were still holding up.
“You didn’t deserve that,” he says softly, his voice full of conviction. “None of it. And it wasn’t your fault.”
You try to look away, the old shame rising up, but he places a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”
You meet his gaze, and the kindness there is almost too much to bear.
“I don’t care what your past looked like,” he says, his voice steady and certain. “None of that changes how I feel about you. You are worth more than any of the pain you’ve been through. You deserve love that feels safe, that feels steady. You deserve someone who chooses you, every single day, this is worth the risk to me, you're worth it to me"
The words sink into you, healing in a way you never thought possible. His hand rests on your cheek, grounding you, and for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be right. That maybe love doesn’t have to hurt.
Bucky leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his voice a soft promise. “I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s hard to believe, and I know trust doesn’t come easy. But I want to be here for you. Every single day.”
Your eyes close, and you feel his warmth surrounding you, filling the empty spaces you’ve carried for so long. He stays close, his presence steady and unyielding, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.
When you finally find your voice, it’s soft, almost trembling. “How can you be so sure?”
He smiles, a gentle, understanding smile that melts every last piece of fear you’re holding onto. “Because I know what it’s like to feel broken. And I also know that finding someone who understands, who sees you for who you really are… that’s worth everything.”
In that moment, you feel a shift inside you, a glimmer of hope where there used to be only fear. Bucky is everything you thought you’d never find—kind, patient, willing to fight for you even when you’re not sure you can fight for yourself.
You let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down your cheek, but this time it’s not one of sadness. It’s the relief of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone anymore.
“I don’t know if I know how to love like that,” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Bucky’s hand gently trails down to your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “Then we’ll learn together,” he says softly, his gaze filled with a warmth and patience that takes your breath away. “One day at a time.”
And as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close against the quiet backdrop of the river, you let yourself believe that this—this love, this kindness, this man—might just be the home you’ve been searching for all along..
You stay there together by the river, wrapped in the warmth of Bucky’s arms as the soft murmur of the water flows beside you. His steady heartbeat under your cheek is calming, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the safety of the moment. It’s as if time has slowed, like the world has paused just for the two of you, letting you both breathe.
After a while, he pulls back slightly, enough to look down at you, his hand still resting gently against your cheek. There’s a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that mirrors your own, as if he’s waiting for just the right moment.
His thumb traces a soft line along your cheek, and he hesitates, as though he’s searching for the right words. Finally, he takes a deep breath, his voice low and steady, full of a tenderness that makes your heart ache.
“Will you do me the honor,” he begins, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, “of being mine, darling?”
The question hangs in the air, his words so simple yet carrying so much weight, so much love. You feel the familiar urge to pull back, to put up your defenses, but with Bucky standing there, his gaze unwavering, you realize that you don’t want to run anymore. Not from him.
A warmth spreads through you, a quiet happiness that feels like it’s been waiting for this moment all along. You meet his gaze, feeling every ounce of his love and devotion, and you realize that, with him, you don’t have to be afraid. Not of love, not of loss—because he’s here, and he’s choosing you.
With a soft, shaky breath, you nod, a smile breaking across your face as you whisper, “Yes, Bucky. I’m yours.”
A look of pure joy lights up his face, and he pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours as he lets out a relieved laugh, as if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have. His hand cups the back of your neck, and he murmurs softly, his voice full of warmth and certainty, “I'm not going anywhere ever, your stuck with me angel"
He leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other, and you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.
As he pulls you back into his arms, holding you close against the night, you know that this—this love, this connection, this man—is home. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe love doesn’t have to hurt; maybe it can be kind, steady, and true.
---
Over the next few months, Bucky weaves his way into every part of your life, becoming as familiar and comforting as home itself. He’s there for all of it—the quiet, mundane moments, the small victories, and the heavy days when the past creeps in and weighs on you. It’s as if he knows exactly when to be there, a steady presence who never asks more of you than you’re ready to give.
One day, after a long day, you find yourself curled up on the couch with him, your head resting against his shoulder. You’re both wrapped in a comfortable silence, but he can sense that something’s weighing on you.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, his fingers trailing soothingly along your arm. He doesn’t push, just leaves the door open, giving you the choice.
You hesitate for a moment, the familiar fear creeping in, but with him, it’s easier to let down your guard. You take a breath, leaning into his warmth as you begin to speak.
“Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever stop carrying all of it with me,” you admit softly. “My parents… their anger was everywhere. They’d go from silence to shouting, always blaming each other. As a kid, I used to hide in my room, but I could still feel it, like their anger was seeping through the walls.”
Bucky’s hand stills, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you. He doesn’t interrupt, just listens, his eyes filled with a quiet empathy that makes it easier to continue.
“I used to think it was normal, that that was just… how love looked. Chaotic, painful. When I got older, I started building walls, just to keep people at a distance. It felt safer that way.”
He nods, squeezing your hand gently. “That must have been so hard,” he says quietly, his voice laced with understanding. “To grow up thinking that’s all there was to love.”
You nod, letting out a shaky breath. “I know it sounds strange, but I thought maybe I’d somehow inherited that anger, that chaos. Like… if I let anyone close, it would just repeat. That I’d end up hurting them, or they’d hurt me.”
Bucky’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, turning so that he’s fully facing you, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. “You’re not them,” he whispers, his voice steady and sure. “And you don’t have to carry their mistakes.”
The kindness in his eyes, the unwavering gentleness, makes you feel like a knot is loosening in your chest. You hadn’t realized how heavy those fears had become, how deeply they’d settled into you.
“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “For being here. For listening.”
“Always,” he says, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I’ll be here, no matter what.”
On a lighter day, Bucky’s there for your small victories, too, celebrating them as if they’re his own. You remember a Friday afternoon, when you’d finally completed a major project at work, one you’d been stressing over for weeks. You’d texted him, excited but exhausted, and by the time you got home, you found him standing in your kitchen with a bottle of champagne and a cake with “You did it!” iced onto it in wobbly, uneven letters.
“You did all this… for me?” you ask, laughing as you read the words on the cake.
“Of course,” he says, grinning as he pops the cork on the champagne. “You’ve been working so hard, and I thought you deserved a little celebration.”
You can’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of his joy for you radiate through the room. “You know, no one’s ever celebrated something like this with me before.”
“Well,” he says, pouring two glasses and handing you one, “then it’s about time someone did, and in honoured it gets to be me"
You clink glasses, and as you take a sip, you realize just how much he’s become part of your life, filling the empty spaces you’d once thought would always be there.
You sip the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue as you look at Bucky, the warmth of the moment settling over you like a blanket. He’s watching you with that easy, genuine smile, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. You’d been working so hard, pouring everything you had into that project, and it was like he knew exactly how much you needed someone to see you, to be there, to celebrate this small victory with you.
“Really,” you say, setting down your glass and shaking your head with a laugh. “I still can’t believe you did all of this… for me. The cake, the champagne… It’s so thoughtful.”
He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “You deserve it. I know how hard you’ve been working.” He glances at the cake, chuckling a little. “Even if the cake looks like it was made by a five-year-old.”
“It’s perfect,” you say, a laugh escaping you as you look at the uneven letters again, and he grins, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his eyes.
Over the past few weeks, he’s taken to saying those three words to you—quietly, simply, as if he’s known them all along. It usually happens in those gentle moments, the ones that sneak up on you and make you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. The first time he’d said it, you’d felt the words catch in your throat, and he’d squeezed your hand, smiling softly.
“It’s okay,” he’d whispered. “You don’t have to say it back. I just… wanted you to know.”
And he’s been true to his word, never pressuring you, never expecting more than you’re ready to give. He says it without hesitation, as though his love for you is as natural as breathing, and each time, it feels like another piece of the armor around your heart softens. You’ve been holding those words close, letting them settle, and tonight, with him standing here in your kitchen, celebrating you, it’s like they’re finally ready to take flight.
You take a breath, setting your glass down and looking at him, really looking at him. He’s so patient, so steady, just waiting for you to be ready, and in that moment, the words slip out, simple and true.
“I love you too, Bucky.”
For a moment, he looks surprised, his eyes widening just slightly. Then a slow, radiant smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a soft, relieved laugh, like he’s been holding onto a breath he didn’t realize he’d taken.
“Yeah?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a gentleness in his gaze that makes your heart feel like it’s glowing.
You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest as you watch him, feeling the weight of those words sink in, wrapping around the two of you. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I love you.”
He takes a step closer, reaching out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in that familiar way that makes you feel safe, cherished. He doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t have to. The way he looks at you, like you’re the most precious thing in his world, says it all.
You stand there together, the sound of quiet laughter and clinking glasses filling the air, and as you look into his eyes, you know this is just the beginning of something beautiful.
---
One night, over a year after that moment by the river, you’re sitting on the back porch with him, wrapped in a blanket as you watch the stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and he has his arm around you, pulling you close as you lean into him.
“Can I ask you something?” you murmur, breaking the silence.
“Anything,” he replies, his voice soft.
“Do you ever… I don’t know… feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” you ask, the vulnerability of the question catching in your throat. “Like things are too good, and maybe it won’t last?”
He’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s considering your words, and then he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I used to,” he admits. “But then I realized that waiting for something to go wrong just robs you of all the good things you’ve got right here, right now.”
You nod, letting his words sink in. He has a way of grounding you, of making the fears that once felt so overwhelming seem smaller, more manageable.
“Look,” he says, pulling back slightly so he can look into your eyes, “I know you still have walls up baby, I know you’ve been through things I can’t even imagine. But none of that changes how I feel about you. You’re it for me sweet heart"
The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart race, and you feel that familiar warmth, that sense of safety you’ve come to cherish with him. You open your mouth to respond, but he reaches out, crashes his lips to yours, as his lips meet yours, everything else fades away. The quiet of the night, the cool breeze, the blanket wrapped around you both—none of it matters except the feel of him, warm and steady and here. His hand cradles the back of your head, gentle yet certain, as if he’s savoring this moment just as much as you are. There’s a tender urgency in the way he kisses you, a depth of feeling that words could never fully capture.
His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you find yourself letting go, allowing the barriers you’ve held up for so long to slip away. In his arms, every lingering fear, every shadow of doubt feels smaller, quieter. He’s the one constant you never thought you’d find, and here, beneath the blanket of stars, you feel safe enough to let him see all of you.
You run your hands along his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the solidity, as if to reassure yourself that he’s real, that he’s yours. He senses the hesitation in your touch and gently deepens the kiss, pouring his own quiet reassurance into each soft brush of his lips against yours. He’s unhurried, savoring the closeness, the warmth shared between you, as if he has all the time in the world.
When you finally pull back to catch your breath, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft and full of that familiar warmth that’s always steadied you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering as he looks at you, his gaze tender and unguarded.
“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp. “I hope you know that.”
Your heart swells, and you can’t help but reach up, your fingers tracing his jaw, memorizing the lines of his face. “I do,” you whisper, smiling as you take in the love shining in his eyes. “And you’re everything to me, too.”
The moment is gentle, intimate, a quiet affirmation of all that you’ve come to mean to each other. As the night drifts on, you find yourselves wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses and whispered promises, the world around you falling away until it’s just you and him, together in the safe haven you’ve created.
---
It isn’t until months later, on a quiet afternoon in your small apartment, that you realize how much he’s changed you. You’re both in the kitchen, making dinner, when he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. In that moment, feeling the solid warmth of him, something inside you finally softens, and you feel that long-buried fear of love start to melt away.
Turning around to face him, you look into his eyes, your heart pounding but steady. “You’re… you’re home,” you say softly, finally daring to voice the truth you’ve been feeling for so long.
Bucky smiles, and it’s the warmest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “And so are you,” he murmurs, brushing a gentle kiss across your forehead. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
As you lean into him, you feel a deep sense of peace—a peace that tells you love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real, that sometimes, it’s okay to let yourself be someone else’s. And for the first time, you let yourself believe that you can be loved without fear.
In his arms, you know that no matter where life takes you, he’ll always be there, steady as ever, reminding you every day that you’re his, and he’s yours.
The soft simmering of the pot on the stove fades into the background as you hold each other in the kitchen, wrapped in a quiet warmth that feels like it’s seeped into every corner of your life together. The room is filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices, but all you can focus on is him—his arms around you, his steady breathing, the familiar warmth of his presence.
You look up at him, and there’s a softness in his eyes, a light you’ve come to recognize as the kind of love that expects nothing but offers everything.
“I don’t know if I tell you this enough,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently along your back. “But you… you make me feel whole. Like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
His words settle over you like a balm, soothing any lingering fear you still carry. There’s a deep sincerity in his gaze, a warmth that has become your comfort, your safety. You feel your heart swell, a surge of gratitude that he’s here, that he chose you even with all the jagged edges you thought would push people away.
“Bucky,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “I never thought I’d find this. Find… you.”
He smiles, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to trust me. But you’re everything I ever wanted… everything I never thought I deserved.”
You laugh softly, the sound breaking through the quiet as you realize how much he’s come to mean to you, how he’s become the constant in your life, the calm in your storms. “You deserve all of it, love....Every bit of happiness there is.”
His eyes soften, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, lingering as if he’s savoring the moment, as if he’s savoring you. “Then stay with me,” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. “For as long as we have… let’s make this our forever.”
Your heart races as his words sink in, and you feel a warmth bloom within you, a peace that you’ve only known with him. The future, once clouded by fear and doubt, now feels open, full of possibility, and you realize that with him, you’re no longer afraid of what lies ahead.
You take his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of his palms, the strength that’s always there, supporting you. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, looking up into his eyes. “I’m yours, Bucky. Completely.”
He smiles, a look of relief mixed with pure joy lighting up his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he holds you like he never intends to let go.
“I’ll remind you of that every day,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice a soft promise. “You’re mine. And I love you… more than I could ever put into words.”
In that quiet moment, held close in his arms, you feel it—this deep, steady love that you never believed could be yours. And you know, as long as you have him, you are finally, truly home.
Bucky’s arms wrap around you a little tighter, pulling you closer, and in his embrace, you feel every ounce of love and devotion he’s offered you so freely. His hands rest at the small of your back, gentle but firm, grounding you. The simmering sounds from the stove fade into the background as he holds you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in this shared moment.
He dips his head, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that’s unhurried, tender, but filled with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your jawline, a soft reverence in his touch, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.
You feel the roughness of his palms as his hands settle along your waist, his fingers splaying across your back, drawing you even closer. The air between you feels charged, a steady, simmering warmth that’s both comforting and thrilling. You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth there, feeling safe and cherished.
“Bucky,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean into him, pressing soft kisses along his jawline, savoring the way his breathing hitches ever so slightly at your touch.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze soft but intense, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’re everything,” he whispers, his forehead resting gently against yours as he closes his eyes, breathing you in. “Everything I never knew I could have.”
---
A few months later, everything feels like it’s slipping out of your hands. Work is stressful, you’ve hardly had a moment to yourself let alone with Bucky, and the anxieties that you thought you’d buried start creeping back in, tainting every small moment of happiness with doubt. Bucky notices, of course. He’s always paying attention, always picking up on the little things.
After a long, exhausting day, you come home and find him waiting for you in your small, cluttered living room. He’s made dinner, and the smell of pasta fills the apartment, a small act of love that you know he did just to make you feel better.
But instead of feeling grateful, all you feel is overwhelmed.
As you set your bag down, you glance at him, trying to ignore the pressure building in your chest. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “I don’t need you to take care of me all the time, i can do it myself!"
He blinks, taken aback by the edge in your tone. “I know you can baby, ” he says carefully. “I just wanted to make things a little easier tonight"
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t need you to!” you snap, unable to hold back the frustration boiling over inside. “I’m fine on my own....I’ve always been fine on my own!"
Bucky’s face falls, and he sets down the plate he was holding, his gaze steady but pained. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks quietly.
You don’t know how to answer, not when everything feels so confusing and raw. “Maybe… maybe we were a mistake,” you murmur, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Maybe we got too close too fast.”
His jaw clenches, hurt flashing across his face. “Do you really mean that?” His voice is low, almost breaking. “Or are you just scared?”
The question hits you like a punch to the gut, because he’s right. You are scared—scared of getting hurt, scared of being vulnerable, and scared of what it means to love someone so deeply. And yet, instead of admitting it, you double down, pushing him further away.
“What if I am scared, Bucky?” you snap, crossing your arms. “Maybe I don’t want to put myself through this. People always leave, and were in so deep! I, I’m just—” You stop, your voice catching as the memories of your parents’ fights come rushing back, the anger, the silence, the way love had turned to something dark and painful.
Bucky steps forward, his expression softened but resolute. “I’m not your Father, we're not your parents” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not going to walk away just because things get hard.”
You turn away, trying to hide the tears that have started to well up. “How can you say that? You don’t know… what it was like.”
He takes a breath, his hand reaching out to yours, fingers warm and steady around yours. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Help me understand, so I can be here for you the way you need.”
The walls you’ve built around your heart feel like they’re crumbling, and you struggle to keep them in place, to hold onto the safety they give you. But Bucky’s still there, holding your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.
With a shaky breath, you finally let go, everything you've been keeping inside for the last couple weeks pours out of you, your eyes like waterfalls. Bucky has his arms wrapped around faster than you could wipe your tears away. His grip firm, as he rubs circles on your back. Holding you close, and you feel the weight of his presence, grounding you, filling the empty spaces with a warmth you were about to let yourself lose.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing soothingly along your back. “No matter how scared you get, I’m here. You’re not alone, you’re worth it, i promise angel”
You pull back, looking up at him, feeling the truth of his words sink into you. The fear is still there, lingering around the edges, but somehow it feels smaller now, less overwhelming.
As you hold his gaze, you realize that this—this moment, where you’re both standing on the edge of your fears and still choosing each other—is what love is meant to be. It’s not about perfection or never fighting. It’s about standing together, even when things get messy, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean it, ant of it Bucky I’m just… scared of losing you.”
He smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Then hold onto me,” he says softly “Because I’m not letting you go"
---
Bucky has been working long hours lately, pulling extra shifts and coming home exhausted. You’ve noticed how he’s barely had a moment to breathe, how he comes home later every night, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he falls onto the couch. You’ve asked him if everything’s okay, and every time, he just smiles, brushes a kiss across your forehead, and says he’s fine, just a little busy.
What you don’t know is that Bucky’s been saving up for something big, something he’s been dreaming about since the day he realized he couldn’t imagine a life without you. He’s been setting aside every extra dollar to buy you a ring, one that feels worthy of you. But between work and stress, his nerves are stretched thin, and even though he tries to be patient, exhaustion is starting to get the better of him.
You come home from work and find him in the kitchen, staring blankly at a half-prepared dinner, his face worn and tired. You reach out to touch his arm, concerned. “Bucky, you don’t have to do everything, you know. I could’ve picked something up.”
He doesn’t look at you, just sighs, his voice tense. “I’m fine doll, I can handle it.”
You press a little further, sensing something beneath his words. “Are you sure? You’ve been so… distant lately. I just feel like we barely talk anymore.”
Bucky’s shoulders stiffen, and he glances over at you, a flicker of frustration in his gaze. “I don’t get why you’re always questioning me,” he snaps, voice sharper than usual. “I’m here, aren’t I? It’s not like I’m going anywhere, i've told you"
You flinch at his words, feeling a familiar ache settle in your chest. “I’m not… I just don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’m not shutting you out, alright? Not everything has to be a big deal.”
The words feel dismissive, and something inside you snaps, the old fears rising up. “I just… I need to know what’s going on, Bucky, you know this, I-I....You say you’re here, but it doesn’t feel like it right now, It’s like you’re already halfway gone already..."
The moment you say it, his expression changes, a spark of hurt flashing across his face. “Are you serious?” he asks, his tone suddenly defensive. “I’ve been working myself to the bone for us, trying to make things better. I’m here every night, putting in the effort, and you’re just waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for an excuse to push me away! "
Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “That’s not fair,” you say, voice trembling. “You know why I have a hard time trusting people, why I get scared. You’re the one who made me feel safe again. And now it’s like… it’s like you’re proving me right.”
He looks away, jaw clenched, but the frustration and exhaustion finally get the better of him. “Maybe I don’t know how to prove it to you, then,” he mutters, anger shading his words. “I don’t know what more you need from me!"
The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and suddenly the air feels too thick, the walls of your house are suddenly too close. Without thinking, you grab your coat, needing to escape the pain before it breaks you completely.
“Where are you going?” he calls after you, the anger giving way to worry as he realizes you’re actually leaving. “It’s 2:30AM! Y-you cant just walk out!
You pause at the door, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look back at him, the hurt and fear finally spilling over“I’m leaving before you leave me,” you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “I told you would! Everyone always does.”
With that, you slip out the door, stepping into the quiet, empty street. You start walking, the chill of the night biting into your skin as you try to hold back the tears. The memory of his words lingers, replaying in your mind, amplifying every insecurity you’ve ever felt.
But then you hear footsteps behind you, and before you can turn, Bucky’s voice reaches you, a soft, desperate sound. “Wait, Baby please, just… stop for a second"
You hesitate, swallowing down the sob that’s caught in your throat as he steps closer, his face a mix of regret and something you can’t name. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, his own tears spilling over “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
You take a shaky breath, your voice full of the hurt you can’t hide. “You’re right, though. I don’t know how to believe you’ll stay. I can’t get rid of this feeling that you’ll change your mind.”
He closes the gap between you, his gaze softening as he reaches out, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice gentle, grounding. “I’m not going anywhere. You know why I’ve been working so much?”
You shake your head, your mind still reeling.
He lets out a deep breath, pulling something from his pocket, a small, worn ring box. “This...This is why I’ve been putting in those hours. Because I want to be with you, forever....For good.”
You stare at the box in his hand, the realization washing over you like a wave. Bucky steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been saving up to buy you a ring. Because all I want is a life with you. No running, no more fears. Just us...till death do us part and all..."
The words sink in, and your heart feels like it’s breaking open and mending at the same time. “Bucky, I… I didn’t know.”
“I know, you weren't suppose to sweet girl” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just… scared, too. Scared that maybe you’d never really believe I’d stay or be too scared to stay yourself.."
You cling to him, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you, grounding you. For the first time, you let yourself feel the truth in his words, the steady, unyielding love he’s shown you all along.
As he holds you in the quiet of the night, you finally feel something shift deep inside, a sense of peace replacing the old fears. And as you look up into his blue eyes, you know, without a doubt, that this is what home looks like.
Bucky holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you both stand on the empty street, the quiet stillness of the night surrounding you. You can feel the steady beat of his heart as he holds you, each thump anchoring you back into the moment, reminding you of everything he’s done to show you he’s here to stay.
After a few moments, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft and full of a warmth that nearly takes your breath away. He glances down at the small ring box in his hand, then back up at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I was planning this whole big thing, you know,” he says, a soft laugh escaping him as he looks at you, his eyes bright with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. “A perfect night, the right words… I wanted it to be special. Because you deserve that, you deserve everything.”
Your breath catches, your eyes filling with tears again, but this time they’re tears of joy, of a hope that’s finally free of the shadows that used to hold you back.
“But somehow,” he continues, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek, “this feels right. Standing here with you, just… us, no walls, no fears.”
Slowly, Bucky lowers himself down onto one knee, opening the small ring box to reveal a simple but beautiful ring that catches the glow of the streetlight. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know we’ve both been through a lot, and I know we’ve still got our fears,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, each word carrying the weight of everything he feels. “But there’s no one else I’d rather face them with. You’re it for me. You’re my home, my everything.”
He takes a steadying breath, his gaze unwavering as he holds the ring up to you. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m never going to leave?”
You feel the tears spill over, but this time you don’t bother wiping them away. Nodding, you barely manage to whisper, the easiest words you ever said before “Yes...Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you"
A bright smile breaks across his face as he slips the ring onto your finger, then rises to his feet, pulling you back into his arms. He kisses you softly, a lingering kiss filled with every unspoken promise between you "I love you Bucky Barnes"
As he pulls back, his eyes meet yours, a smile playing on his lips. "And I love you, forever" he whispers, his voice filled with warmth and certainty. “You’re the best thing that's ever been mine,”
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jjkarmy091 · 2 days ago
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Second Best- Jungkook (part 6)
Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?
Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;
Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader
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Jungkook woke up around 9:30 am. The first thing he did was check his phone in case he had any notifications from Y/n, but had none. He was seriously getting worried about this lack of response. Had something happened with the person Y/n left with? If that was the case he would never be able to forgive himself. He knew he should have gone after her, he's so stupid. 
He got up, took a quick shower, got dressed, grabbed his keys and left, he couldn’t keep up with this uneasy feeling. Putting his helmet on, he drove to the coffee shop Y/n worked. He knew her shifts very well, and that was the only place he could find her. When he got there, he parked his bike, took a deep breath and got in looking everywhere for her but still no Y/n in sight. 
“Hey there moto boy. What can I get you?” Sana asked. Jungkook looked kinda confused. “I was actually looking for Y/n. Is she on her break?” Sana frowned and looked at him suspiciously. 
“You’re kidding right?” Sana exclamed. “You are always together and talk to each otherall the time when you aren’t. You can’t tell me you didn’t know she took some days off” 
The world fell at Jungkook's feet upon hearing that. Y/n took a few days off and didn't even answered to his texts or deign to call? what the fuck was going on. Jungkook nodded his head, said thank you and left, picking his phone up instantly to call Y/n. “The person you called is not available. Please try again later” 
Fuck. Me
------------ 
Y/n fell in love with that place as soon as she saw it. Everywhere she looked she she felt immense peace and everything seemed so quiet and cozy, everything to make the weight on her shoulders disappear. Upon entering the chalet, they were immediately greeted by a gentleman at the entrance who directed them to the reception.
After checking in and receive the keys, they picked up their luggage and followed the gentlemanto the elevator, who was showing them the way to their "apartment”. Y/n couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Walking in, she’s faced with a very nice living room, with wooden walls and gray furniture. It had shelves with books, among other really cute stuff decorating the place. All very neutral and very light, exactly what she needed. On the coffee table was champagne and a plate with strawberries and chocolate with a small note saying "we hope you enjoy your stay as much as we enjoy your presence. Thanks for choosing us. Have fun" 
From the living room they went to the bedroom to organize their things. When they walked in Y/n was even more astonished. From their bed they had a view of the outside. She always loved snow and being there was filling her heart with so much happiness she wished she could live there forever.
“Where did you find this place and how can you afford it for both of us?!” Y/n exclaimed. Lisa looked at her with a funny look “My dad owns it. A benefit of traveling so much and not seeing his family for so long, not everything can be bad. I used to come here for Christmast and New year. It's crazy during those days and you know me, I love crazy and those were my favourite moments here”
Y/n laughed. Only Lisa could say something like that. 
“So… You know how to ski right?” Lisa asked out of nowhere. “Oh hell no Lisa, no way, not right now, we just got here we should—” Y/n argued back but was soon interrupted by Lisa 
“There's a snow suit in the closet on the right. We have a lot to discover we won't wait until tomorrow. You rest during the night. Come on princess, time is money” Y/n huffed while getting her suit to start putting it on.  How could Lisa have so much energy was something she couldn't understand.
They both got dressed and head out of the chalet. Y/n was amazed by the view, everything was perfect. But it’s not an adventure if something doesn't go right for Y/n. Out of nowhere she lost sight of Lisa, making her panick. She had no idea where she was.
Y/n looked around trying to see her friend but couldn’t identify anyone who would look like her. She started walking around worried about straying too far from where Lisa last saw her. Y/n was so distracted that she didn't even notice anyone coming close to her, ending up colliding with that person, causing her to lose balance and fall. The other person quickly knelt down, stretching out his hand to help her until she heard “Y/n?” 
She looked up, took the stranger's hand and straightened her hair a little, trying to understand where she recognized that voice from, until the stranger took the protective mask off his eyes and saw him.
“Taehyung?”  
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Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @11thenightwemet11 @jk97bam @11thenightwemet11 @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv
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svsss-brainrot-blog · 1 day ago
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Luo Binghe and Shen yuan interaction where Luo Binghe can read Shen Yuans thoughts.
It comes with the dusk, after a long day handling strange flowers for trade, when Shizun deigns to allow his humble and devoted husband to bathe him, and run the teeth of his ivory comb through long, dark tresses.
“Ah, Luo Binghe,” echoes in the back of his mind, like a sacred whisper, something warm flowing within it. “You are far too good to this old man.”
His hands still for a moment, halfway through a stroke of devotion. With a curious hum, Shizun’s eyes open, catching his in the mirror, and a trace of confusion slinks through that place behind his own thoughts.
“Binghe? Is something wrong?” His eyes search over him in that way they always have, but there is nothing to see when his mind is where the curiosity lays.
The thing is, Luo Binghe is not unused to having another’s thoughts in his mind. But he has never had Shizun’s. Even more so, it seems his revered master and husband has no idea that he’s doing it. Perhaps one of the Tethered Thought Lilies from earlier had managed to cling some of its pollen to the demon’s sleeve without notice. A careless mistake, he ought to know better. He’ll have to scour the room to make sure he didn’t track anything else in by accident.
“Nothing is wrong, Shizun,” Luo Binghe assured him, resuming the task at hand. The lilies were not very potent, and with the level of cultivation he and his husband possessed, they could not garner an effect for more than a few incense sticks’ worth of time, if that. “This humble disciple was only admiring the beautiful view.”
Right on cue, a fetching trace of pink races to color the fine, soft pale skin of Shen Qingqiu’s face.
“I swear he’s trying to get me to explode some days! What shameless words! How much more must I be expected to endure before he makes his move?”
“Shizun must know,” Luo Binghe continues, setting down the comb in favor of nosing along his husband’s neck. “That he is the best sight this unworthy one could ever see, in any lifetime.”
“This is it,” come Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, trilling with something like anticipation. “The part where he kisses me and whisks me away...”
Luo Binghe smiled, and, just to be contrary, pulled back to pick up the comb once more.
“Huh? He didn’t…?”
Luo Binghe twisted the long, luxurious hair into a simple braid. “May this lowly one accompany Shizun to rest?”
“What. The. Hell.” His Shizun’s voice nipped at his mind, filled with a buzz that the demon lord could only identify as the beginnings of irritation. “Where the fuck is my kiss, Luo Binghe?! All that talk all day of love and devotion and you aren’t even going to kiss your one and only fucking husband goodnight?! What was all that buildup today for if you were going to back off at the last moment?!”
“If it pleases Binghe, this master will permit it,” is what his husband actually says with grace and elegance, but Luo Binghe is struck dumb for a moment by the sheer intensity and vulgarity that just swept through his mind. Something sharp and unpleasant digs into his consciousness where he can feel their short, unplanned bond.
With a smooth motion, Shen Qingqiu stands from the vanity and slips away, and as soon as his hair leaves Luo Binghe’s hands, the thread that binds them snaps.
“Shizun wait,” the demon calls, quickly moving to hold the other around the waist, nearly melting as the feeling of connection returns.
“Stupid.” Shizun’s voice cuts through at the first brush, cold and cruel. “What idiotic thing was I thinking? He had his fill just this morning, he would not care enough for it again so soon. And why should I care? Not every word is meant to ply my willingness. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
And then, a thought so quiet, it barely registers under all the other cacophony. “Did I do something to displease him? Is that why?”
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe calls, once more burrowing into his neck. Guilt cut thick through his heart, making the scar on his chest ache. Shizun would fret, and undo all the effort Luo Binghe had put into his relaxing bath, but he could not bear to let his most beloved think he was unwanted. “…Shizun could never displease this lowly demon.”
“What.” Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts echo his words.
“Forgive me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks, tightening his hold. “It seems this unfilial one had some pollen left on his sleeves from the Tethered Thought Lilies. I should not have pried.”
“FUCK,” his inner thoughts declare as he abruptly pulls away.
“Luo Binghe!” his master chastises with a scandalized expression. “You-!”
“Shizun’s thoughts are so straightforward,” Luo Binghe says, bowing his head. “And this one did not think the short duration would be of consequence. But this Luo Binghe was wrong.” Still, he reached out, pulling the other close once again. “But this one did not mean to upset his husband, whom he loves dearly and longs for with great affection.”
With as much repentance as he could muster, Luo Binghe laid a chaste kiss at the corner of his husband’s lips. The immortal master simply stared at him for several long moments, tumultuous emotions flittering through the back of Luo Binghe’s mind faster than he could decipher.
“Take me to bed if you’re truly so sorry, you foolish thing.”
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe purred, lifting the other easily into his arms for a proper kiss as he carried them to their chambers. “I love you.”
“Fool,” Shizun sighed, acting put upon even as a trill of pleased satisfaction rumbled through Luo Binghe’s thoughts.
“I love you too.”
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sugdenlovesdingle · 2 days ago
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can you write a story where Tommy hides a relatively minor injury from buck and when buck finds out he freaks out( angry) but everything turns out okay in the end
"You brought me here? You ratted me out?"
"Dude, look at the state of you. Don't you think your husband of six months would notice?" Eddie said, parking his car in front of Buck and Tommy's house. "I still don't know why you called me instead of him."
"You're a medic! I needed medical help. "
"Yeah, we have these great places called hospitals. You can go there if you need medical help and they give it to you. They can even give you painkillers or numb the area if you need stitches."
Tommy rolled his eyes.
"Enough with the sarcasm, Diaz. You could have brought me to your place. I would have been fine there for a couple of hours until Evan went on shift. I would have had 48 hours to patch myself up and he wouldn't have had to worry." he moved to try and open the passenger door without hurting himself more, but it was yanked open before he could do so.
"Tommy! What the hell happened?" Evan caught him just before he could faceplant onto the pavement.
"It's worse than it looks." Tommy said and then scrunched his face up. "Wait. No. It looks worse than it is." he corrected himself. "Rough landing. It's fine."
"It doesn't look fine. You look like you just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson." Buck said and turned to Eddie. "What happened?"
"I don't know. He just called me and asked if I could pick him up at Harbor." Eddie shrugged. "He wouldn't let me take him to the ER so I cleaned him up best I could with the med kit I keep in my car... but it's not ideal. That's why I texted you, maybe he'll listen to you."
"Traitor." Tommy said, annoyed. "You're supposed to be my friend."
"I am your friend. And I'm also his. And my ankle still hurts on rainy days so I'm not getting in between the two of you again."
"That was years ago!" Buck protested.
"Tell that to my ankle." Eddie replied. "You good with him on your own?"
"We're fine." Tommy said and tried to slam the car door shut while also keeping himself upright and not letting Evan know how much he was hurting.
"Yeah I can handle him. Can you tell Bobby I'm not coming in today? I'll call him later to explain."
"Evan you don't have to stay home to babysit me." Tommy said both both men ignored him.
"Sure. Let me know if you need anything. I can swing by if we have some downtime."
"Thanks." Evan shut the car door and took Tommy inside and deposited him on the sofa. He gently grabbed his chin and turned his head from left to right. "Did Eddie stitch up your eyebrow?"
"Yeah... I told him to just stick a bandage on it but he insisted. It's fine."
"You keep telling yourself that." Evan told him and sat down on the coffee table in front of him, looking him up and down, trying to figure out if he had any other injuries. "Want to tell me what happened? Without using the word fine?"
Tommy took a deep breath and tried to hide the wince when he did. Evan just raised an eyebrow at him.
"The new probie. I shouldn't have left him fly in this weather."
"He crashed?"
"No, no crash. Just a rough landing. We got knocked around a little. it's f- not so bad."
"You're going to be black and blue in a couple of hours. Have you taken anything for the pain?" Buck asked, accepting he wasn't going to get a more detailed answer right now.
"I was going to get something from the place near Eddie's house. Before he ratted me out and drove me here."
Buck rolled his eyes and got up.
"You're impossible, you know that? I'm getting you some ibuprofen." he gently kissed the top of Tommy's head. "You're lucky I love you."
----
send me prompts and I'll write you a ficlet!
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juniefruit · 3 days ago
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☆ Caught in a Web ☆
☆ Spiderman! Jisung x fem! reader 18+
☆ Summary: Peter Jisung Han lived a double life. One, as your best friend since first grade. Second, as New York's one-and-only Spider-Man. For the past few years, his life has been... well, complicated. It only gets more complicated when you see something you weren't supposed to which, surprisingly, had some pleasurable consequences.
☆ Warnings: Kind of silly, monster encounter, friends to lovers, mutual pining, ji and reader are in college, piv, making out, fast progression, for mature audiences ONLY. MDNI.
☆ Word Count: 3.3k
☆ Notes: this has been a wip for soo long I thought about scrapping it. Posting it now to just finally get it out of my drafts. Couldn't decide on whether to keep the smut or not. But hey it's here so: smut readers, enjoy!
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Police sirens.
Cars honking. Incessantly. 
Subway cars screeching to a halt under your feet.
Skyscrapers towering above the crown of your head. 
That was New York. Your humble city, the one that never sleeps. You know who also doesn’t sleep? Jisung. Your best friend you met your first year of Uni. Attached at the hip, you could probably complete each other’s sentences– if the other would ever stop talking. 
University was its own battle, but having Jisung around made things that much easier. He lived in the apartment complex across the street, and sometimes you’d see the lights on in his window way past reasonable hours. But his skin was flawless nonetheless- not a dark circle in sight, not even on bad days. You could go on and on about him, his perfect hair, warm eyes, bubbly laugh. You would gush about him to your best friend- but you can’t, because he is that friend. So, you’re stuck screaming into your pillow from his astronomical charms. 
The news anchor’s voice cuts through the air, the TV against your wall flashing with another breaking news headline. When your eyes scan the title, you grin. Spider-man saves dozens in East Manhattan, it reads. With a sparkle in your eyes, you phone Jisung. He never picks up anyway. But you couldn’t stay mad at him, no– not when he flashes you a lopsided smile and promises to buy you dinner as an apology. 
7:53p.m:
You: Yo r u seeing this?? Spiderman’s on the east side!!
Missed Call
Missed Call
Missed Call
You wouldn’t call yourself a Spiderman fanatic– you just give credit where credit’s due. Try telling that to Jisung– In reality, you were enthralled with the masked man. He was just so cool and personable. He swung so gracefully through the city, catching everything from petty criminals to monsters even your nightmares couldn’t conjure up. You could see the outline of all his hard work under that skin-tight exo-suit, too. He handled news reporters like a champ- always knew what to say and how to leave you breathless. Until he swung off into a dark alley, until the next time his presence was needed. 
You had given up on calling Jisung, knowing he was probably gaming or sleeping and couldn’t reach his phone. It was only until the news had moved on to the next headline that you felt the buzz of your phone, which you threw onto the other side of your bed in annoyance. Of course you picked up.
“Hey, y/n! Wanna tell me all about it?” Jisung spoke, almost too enthusiastic for how out of breath he was.
“Uh, yeah! Did you see that spin kick he did? It was mid-air too! And he totally demolished that one—” Jisung zoned you out, back against the brick wall, hand gripping his mask. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple as he caught his breath, silently. “Where even are you?” Your voice raised in annoyance. “And out of breath too?” Jisung looses a breathy laugh. 
“Just went out on a run, cutie. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back soon.” 
You don’t sound too convinced. “Okay… Just don’t get mugged.”
“I’ll try. Still on for lunch tomorrow?” Your heart skips a beat for no particular reason. You agreed and said your goodbyes, but you didn’t sleep until you saw the lights turn on in Jisung’s apartment. The next morning, the crisp air had a slight chill to it, indicating the beginning of fall. Maybe you were imagining it, but everything had that autumn vibe to it. The streets weren’t overly crowded yet, as you waited in line at the coffee shop on the corner. Class was starting in a few minutes. 
“y/n, wait up!” You recognized Jisung’s voice from behind you. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a warm brown color that suited him well. “Walk with me?” You nodded, sipping your warm drink. It was too early for this, you thought. You enjoyed the comfortable silence, and so did he. Class was okay… But it was always better when Jisung cracked a joke or two about that one kid who always raised his hand, or the typo in the professor’s slideshow. The day trudged along, until you were back in your brick wall apartment, Jisung splayed across your bed while you sat crisscrossed on your side. Occasionally, you mindlessly glanced over at the various band posters on your walls, or the fairy lights above your desk.
“Do you ever think we’ve walked past spiderman, not knowing it was him?” You spoke whatever came to mind. 
“Uh, I don’t know, probably.” Jisung put on his best unamused voice. 
“I hope he’s hot.” You sigh, dreamily. He chokes on air. “What?” You ask, turning to him, faking annoyance.
“That’d be great, yeah.” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. 
“I mean, look at him! He’s got sooo many muscles!” You gesture to the TV, going through the daily Spiderman-appreciation segment. Jisung rolled his eyes. He really didn’t get the hype. All he wanted was to stop these dumb monsters and go on with his day. Maybe if the news didn’t blow him up so much, he would’ve told you already. But he can’t risk it. 
“I’ve got muscles too, you know.” He didn’t want you to like Spiderman, he wanted you to like him. God forbid he gets a little jealous sometimes, even if he is technically getting jealous of himself. 
“Yeah, but are you spiderman?” You ask, jokingly. 
“Uh-” Jisung stammers. He was never good with confrontation. His heart was beating too fast and his ears were getting red. Breathing was getting difficult.
“That’s what I thought.” You fold your arms in victory. 
“Goodnight, y/n.” Jisung got up from the bed in a hurry, shuffling over to where his shoes were by the door.
“Eh? Did I say something? Whatever it was, I’m really sorry-!” The sound of the door slamming cut you off. You raced over to your bedroom window, and waited until you saw the lights in his apartment turn on. It might’ve been stupid, but you tore a piece of paper out of your notebook, and in big sharpie ink, wrote, ‘sorry :(‘ and taped it to your window before getting ready for bed. 
The next morning, Jisung had to blow off some steam. Quite the overthinker, he was. He didn’t see your message posted on your window, practically jumping into his suit and pulling his mask on, the rising sun set a golden glow across his form as he swung between stone brick walls and fancy office building glass. Leaves were turning various hues of red, orange and yellow. They fell like confetti from the tree branches that lined the streets. Screw my morning class, he thought, he could always pull an all-nighter to catch up. His superhuman energy meant he rarely felt tired. In the corner of his vision, the neighborhood coffee shop caught his eye. He could really go for a bagel. It’s gonna be one hell of a morning for the people in there, he thought as he swung down, and opened the door with a chime. Walking up to the counter clad in his suit and mask, the barista was too busy writing on a cup to acknowledge him, but he could hear the hushed whispers and surprised gasps of the cafe patrons. 
“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” “Lemme get uhh-” 
Jisung got that sudden feeling across his skin, like a wave of electricity. Something was about to happen. 
BANG! 
A loud explosion right outside, some of the window panes cracked. The ground shook in a deep rumble. So much for that bagel. Sprinting outside, A large crack in the asphalt was billowing steam. A little farther down, A heavy creature made of stone and mud was stomping down the road, laughing maniacally. Attempting an ambush, Spiderman launched a web at its back. Almost instantly the web string got stuck in the mud and was enveloped by the creature. Oh. At that, the monster stopped trodding, and slowly turned around. It had a face of assorted rough stones, kind of like a snowman. Jisung sighed. Alright, plan B. 
“Oh my god!” You shrieked at the TV from your quaint living room, watching the fight go down on the live news broadcast. Sat in your comfy pajamas, you had decided to take today easy. Until now. Spiderman was leaping across building walls, launching strike on strike onto the monster. The cameraman was shaky, but you didn’t seem to care, as your eyes trailed every movement of spiderman’s agile maneuvers. All of a sudden you gasped, an idea striking you faster than a lightning bolt. If I leave now, I might have enough time to get there and meet spiderman in person! Frantically running to your closet, you changed into something lightweight and casual. Booking it down the apartment stairs and onto your bike, you recognized the location of the fight because that’s where you and Jisung would always get bagels after your morning class. The thought made you smile. Approaching the scene, you could hear the buzz of commotion. Right as you rounded the corner, you saw it: masses of mud and stone flying everywhere, shattering windows and denting cars. Steam was rolling off the creature, as if the sun was making it dry up. You abandoned your bike and quietly walked closer. They haven’t noticed you yet. That is, until one hit from the creature caught Jisung off guard and he tumbled onto the cement sidewalk, grunting on impact. You gasped in shock, covering your mouth. His mask scraped against the cement, ripping on the side, exposing his left side completely. The more he tried to fix it, the worse it got, until he angrily shoved the mask off with an annoyed look on his face. 
“Happy now?!” He shouted. There were little scapes littering his cheeks from the rubble. The monster grumbled in response. 
“Jisung?” His head whipped around at the sound of your confused voice. 
“Y/n-” Oh shit. Oh, this was bad. Of all people, he thought. “Y/n, get back-!” His voice was strained as the monster launched another attack. He jumped out of the way, closer to you. “Just- run, please!” He exclaimed. You stood there, staring at eachother for a few seconds to confirm that that was really him and that you were really you. Reluctantly, you stepped back before Jisung ran after the monster. Your knees felt weak and you could feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You heard fire truck sirens quickly approaching, and the rest was a blur. 
When you woke, the first thing your brain acknowledged was the plush feeling of your mattress under your fingertips. It didn’t make sense, but it was comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you took a deep breath in, mumbling something incoherent. The blinds in the window were only half closed, letting in the warm glow of the setting sun. Confused and tired, you tried picking yourself up, until a voice to your right interrupted your movement.
“Hey, take it easy,” Instead of making you feel giddy like it usually does, Jisung’s gentle voice made something like anxiety swirl in the pit of your stomach. He got up from his seat by your desk, walking over to lean closer. 
“Do you feel okay?” He asked, eyes cautious. You must have been out for a few hours, because the scratches on his face were cleaned up, and his hair was neatly done. His silver drop earrings dangled in the light. 
“No.” The anger was strating to set in. 
“Alright.” He figured it was better for him to be quiet right now.
“Care to explain?” Or not, Jisung thought. Your voice was slightly hoarse, not an ounce of humor in the tone.
“I’m, uh, I’m… Spiderman?” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled nervously. 
“You’re joking,” You don’t sound amused.
“You saw me yourself! You weren’t supposed to, but you did!” His hands waved in the air to defend himself. You groaned, running a hand along your face.
“Do you even know how embarrassing this is for me? I wanna die.” You whined in annoyance. All the times thirsting over him, screaming over him, and he means to tell you they're the same person? You’ve had a crush on two people, but it’s actually one? “You probably think I’m a major loser.” He loosed a breathless laugh at your confession. 
“You know I would never think that.” He spoke with certainty. And you believed him. Mostly. “You’re my best friend. I think you’re, like, the coolest person ever. And hey, I won't lie, you also give me the biggest ego boost when you talk about how much you loooove Spiderman’s muscles.” 
“Shut up!!” You swatted him away, but he didn’t budge. He snickered at your annoyed state. Teasingly, he pushed even closer, making you giggle. Your arms wrestled against his, until he tumbled onto the bed with you. Reluctantly, he let you catch your breath, laying shoulder to shoulder.
“You’re still my best friend, right?” You confessed. Truth be told, this was a huge reveal on Jisung's part. If he had to cut you off for your sake, it wouldn’t be easy, but you’d manage. You understood how troubling life in the spotlight is. He turned towards you, and you could almost feel his breath on your skin. It sent goosebumps up your spine. 
“Yeah, I am. Of course I am.” His voice was just above a whisper, but he spoke with confidence.
“What if the news thinks I’m your girlfriend? You know how they are,” You rolled your eyes at the melodramatic tendencies of American news media. 
“Would that… be so bad?” Jisung braced himself for the worst. He honestly wasn’t prepared for this, but if not now, when? You knew everything about him. Well, you do now. You were the one person he could truly let his guard down around and really be himself. You knew about all his favorite bands, his order at the corner shop, or even the route he takes to class that specifically avoids the news broadcasting station. He liked you. Like, liked you. There was really no other word for it. 
“I’ll never let anything happen to you, y/n. I’ll make sure of it.” 
He looked down at you with a wide, thoughtful gaze. His heart was racing. You finally let your brain catch up to your heart when you leaned in closer. He let you do so, but not moving an inch himself. Frankly, he was petrified. You carefully pressed your lips against his, measuring his reaction. It was only when you pulled away, your eyes scanning his face hesitantly, that he was thrown back down to earth from the euphoria that was you. He chased your lips as his brows furrowed in concentration, his warm palms coming up to cup your cheeks. You let out a hum in surprise, arching into him to feel his upper body against yours. The front of his body felt firm and defined even over the fuzzy sweater.
Jisung quickly became addicted to your body. He moved one palm lower, swiping over your neck and moving your hair out of the way in the process. He moved down; down your shoulder and to your waist. There, he squeezed you, trying to feel you through the barrier that was your sweater. Moving further down and stilling at your hip, he felt the edge of your jeans, wiggling his hand under the sweater to feel your soft lower waist. He let out a heavy exhale at the touch, and he didn’t even realize how big the tent in his jeans had gotten until you squirmed against him. He shifted your position so you were on your back against the bed, his hands exploring your body until they came to rest right under your bra. Jisung sprawled out above you, his sweater clung to his broad shoulders as he tried to regain his breath for the few short seconds his mouth wasn’t on yours. 
“Still wanna see Spiderman’s muscles?” He grinned above you, out of breath. The desire in his eyes was unmistakeable, but with a hint of playfulness too.  
“You’re insufferable.” You huffed, grabbing handfuls of the fluffy blue sweater and pulling it up and off his head. The planes of his chest overwhelmed your vision, his smooth skin driving you wild. His biceps bulged as he pulled your shirt off, his eyes drinking in your figure, scanning up and down. Impatiently, his fingers thread themselves into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging them down. You did the same to him. His hips were grinding against you in waves, like he couldn’t control himself. Your legs spread as far as possible to hold him closer. Jisung could feel the slow, aching throb spread through his dick, hissing through a clenched jaw. Your core felt his bulge, wetness sticking to your folds almost uncomfortably. Your hand glided against your hip until it reached the gusset of your panties to pull them to the side, holding them there. Pushing his boxers down, he finally slid his length through your lower lips, catching against your clit. One of his hands was balanced against your hip, thumb drawing circles against the skin. He leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips before his face moved to the side of your face, his deep breaths right by your ear. Pushing into your hole, he took his time adjusting. He moved slowly, shoulders shaking from the anticipation, whining through sealed lips. 
“Sungie, you don’t have to wait-” You whined, squirming slightly. 
“Shh, just let me have this moment,” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder, his eyes closing from pleasure- Forcing himself to stay still despite the primal itch to just get on with it. The thrum of anticipation felt shockingly good. After a few moments pass, he drags the heavy weight of his cock out of your walls only to sensually thrust back in. Then, it was like the floodgates opened. Jisung gasped, starting to thrust in and out, his pace gradually speeding up. His hips rhythmically lift upwards to hit your lower belly, thighs slapping against your spread cheeks. Your moans kept him grounded, otherwise he feared he would lose himself in euphoria. His voice grew raspy the longer he groaned and moaned. His pace didn’t falter, even while your arms snaked up to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Your fingers wrapped around that little silver chain he always wears and tugged lightly. His dick reached deeper as he pressed himself against you, body hitting yours in all the right places. Your thighs lifted up to press against his outer hips, your walls squeezing with each push of pleasure from him. 
“I’m, ah, close y/n-”. He hummed, lips pressed against the column of your neck. When your core squeezed around him, he whimpered at the feeling of his impending release.
“You can let go Sungie,” Your palm reassuringly rubbed against his broad back, feeling up the hard working muscles at the same time. His sounds grew higher in pitch until he eventually snapped, his pleasure triggering yours like a domino. For what seemed like hours, the only thing you could perceive was Jisung’s heaving form above you, and the climbing steps of your orgasm that finally crashed down in one fell swoop. Cum and slick gushed out and coated your joined bodies as you caught your breaths. With a hum, you looked over Jisung’s shoulder to realize the muted TV was still on the local news channel. He gave you a short kiss to your spit slicked lips before rolling to the side.
“Jisung?”
“Yeah?”
“Your face is all over the news.”
“Oh shit.”
Check my masterlist for more!
Warning: Everything I post is 100% my original writing & thoughts. This also includes the moodboards at the beginning, that I create. Please do not plagiarize or copy. Tag for inspiration or add-ons. Reblogs are appreciated! <3
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valenteal · 1 day ago
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Alright I see what you’re saying about the headcanons (which are not head canons so much a inferences from the information we have) BUT I have to clarify that multiple psychologists have explained that yes Anakin Skywalker has bpd. He has enough prominently visible symptoms to be clinically diagnosed if he were a real person. This is a fact.
Yes, some Jedi get glimpses of the future, or the past, but that is in no way the same thing as fully experiencing time in a non linear fashion.
I didn’t say that Jedi had ready access to that 4th dimensional view of reality, I said that the Force gives them a glimpse of what it could be like. we literally used the same word to describe it. I’m getting this from Yoda’s lines about how Jedi are luminous beings. But I'm also not just using the movies. (I'll get into my view on Clone wars in canon shortly.) It can be inferred also from everything we know about the Cosmic Force. Basically the Cosmic Force is that fourth time dimensional view of the universe while the Living Force is the fourth SPACE dimensional view of the universe. Sorry I’ve been being a physics nerd for the past few days all this is fresh in my head right now. Point is, the Jedi truly don’t see time as a linear thing even if they are for the most part confined to the present. They see something having existed in the past as never disappearing because the past is fixed and nothing can change that. The past still exists and thus everything that existed in the past will always exist and that is how they justify not feeling grief over loss.
And I want to be clear on something: I do consider the majority of Clone Wars to be canon and I do take quite a bit from Legends as well so not everything I say comes from the movies. But as a writer I do not see Clone Wars Anakin’s characterization as faithful due to stupid things like pandering to the audience who didn’t want to confront things like the complexity an nuance of mental health and toxic environments and relationships. Everything else, the characterization of others like Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Windu? The characters who didn’t get a ton of hate after the prequels were released? That’s all fine. It’s just Padmé and Anakin who suffered from deliberately butchering their character.
So all the Mortis arc, Yoda’s season 6 adventure to become one with the cosmic force and all the implications that go with it? Canon. The Jedi Council’s treatment of Anakin? Canon.
Exactly one Jedi made a big deal about Anakin being the Chosen One: Qui-Gon. That's it. The Jedi don't treat Anakin any different than any other member of their order.
This is patently false. His admission into the order was debated by the full council in front of him. That is extremely irregular. and even once he was admitted into the order he was at the level of Palawan at a young age and skipping the initiate phase. He grew up knowing that most of the council didn't want him there. Mace in particular made it pretty damn clear he didn't like Anakin.
We also know that Anakin was powerful beyond anything the Jedi had ever seen. it can be inferred that they would react more strongly to his emotional volatility than they do with other Jedi who aren't already seen as dangerous.
...I'm not sure what you expect the Jedi to do about that? Qui-Gon died, and Padme was a Queen who had to go back to her own planet.
Well they certainly could have handled it better than they did! Maybe it wasn't their fault but it was their responsibility to help him learn to properly cope. And it wasn't just that Padmé had to return to Naboo, Anakin literally wasn't allowed to be in communication with her, which I'm pretty sure was explicitly stated in Queen's Shadow.
That was a choice that Anakin made. Sidious didn't force his hand. Anakin made the decision that the chance of saving Padme - from a fate he didn't know for sure she'd experience! - was worth betraying the Jedi, worth murdering younglings, worth overthrowing the Republic and turning it into an Empire.
Now this. This is complicated. Because on a certain level you are correct. But he also wasn't in his right mind. He'd been fighting a war for months, hadn't slept in days, was being heavily manipulated, his entire support system was absent, and he was splitting all at the same time. and if you pay attention you'll notice that he resisted very very well. it was not easy for Palpatine to manipulate him into that situation. to even get Anakin to the point where he was mentally unstable enough to turn to the dark side took over TEN YEARS of manipulation. And after that it was actually the Jedi who played the ground work for him to continue making those choices after he became Vader. because the Jedi teach that once you fall theirs no going back, which is provably false but Anakin didn't know that. you may also notice that it didn't actually take much for Vader to return to the light side. Simply having one person believe in him was enough.
Addressing the bit about him not knowing for sure Padmé would die, I have to point out that even from Phantom Menace Anakin shows extreme reliability when predicting the near future. and he touted the dreams about his mother and as a result she died. If he'd responded to this vision just a few days, heck even hours, earlier Shmi could have survived.
That's why I call Anakin selfish and possessive. Because ultimately, he didn't care about Padme's feelings or opinions.
And this is where we come back to the BPD, which again is NOT a head canon but the opinion of multiple psychologists and people with BPD.
Anakin greatly values Padmé's feelings and opinions most of the time. to an unhealthy degree. to the point where his self-image is reliant on her opinion of him.
He was in the midst of a splitting episode. Here's a definition:
Splitting is a symptom of BPD. It occurs when a person sees everything as black or white, good or bad, or best or worst. Splitting is a defense mechanism people living with BPD use to deal with emotions (such as the fear of abandonment) that they cannot handle.
That's what was going on. He was unable to reconcile Padmé being against the side he'd chosen and thus could only see it as a betrayal. I also have to point out that he didn't actually choke her that hard or for that long. Her struggles weren't nearly as frantic as the could've been and later the medical droid made it clear that the was nothing physically wrong with her. There didn't even seem to be any bruising. Padmé shouldn't have died. And Anakin shouldn't have survived. And the Force can be used to drain life energy and transfer it to another person. Palpatine wanted Anakin alive and isolated, so killing Padmé to keep him alive would have been the perfect strategy. Anyway that's getting into theory territory so I digress. The Point is Anakin didn't choose to disregard Padmé or her beliefs, I don't even know if he was cognizant at all of Sidious's plans or what they meant. All he could really see was a black and white view of his side vs. the Jedi.
As for the unconditional love you say he needed? Padme did love him unconditionally.
Which is exactly why he was so desperate to protect her. Even beyond the fact that he loved her she was literally the only person who gave him what he needed. She was his entire support system. If the Jedi had supported him the way he needed things might have turned out differently. If he'd felt safe actually asking for help and being open about the details of the situation the Jedi might actually have been able to do something about it. But when he did go and ask for help he was chastised for caring and wanting to save someone from a possibly preventable death. Which is so messed up. Yoda didn't even press for details about the nature of the death to determine the risk of doing something. just claimed that sometimes the harder you fight the future the more likely it becomes or something. I don't see how Padmé potentially seeing a Jedi healer could have made things worse.
In conclusion the Jedi Order and its Council made a Buch of huge screw up when it came to raising Anakin and it ended up killing them and literally driving him insane. His mental health was their responsibility and they didn't just drop the ball, they threw it.
"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.
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m4rv3l-girl · 2 days ago
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Tactical
Bucky x Y/n
Y/n and Bucky aren’t friends. At all. But sometimes adrenaline pulls people together…
Requests are open!
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Warnings: A pinch of paprika- I mean, angst.
The hum of the Quinjet was just loud enough to mask the weighty silence between the two of you. Bucky sat across from you, arms crossed, blue eyes set in a hard glare that had become his signature look—at least when he looked at you.
“Anything you wanna share, Doll?” he drawled, leaning back and tapping one gloved finger against the armrest.
You huffed, fixing your eyes on the tactical map in front of you. “I think I covered it twice already. We infiltrate the west side, look for anything that resembles a command room, and get out before we’re spotted.”
Bucky’s eyebrow arched. “Because it’s really that simple, isn’t it?”
“Look, Barnes,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “Not every mission needs the Winter Soldier’s grim paranoia. Some of us operate just fine without all the brooding and sneaking around.”
“Oh, really?” His smirk was infuriating. “Is that why you almost got taken out by a HYDRA goon last month?”
The reminder stung, and you clenched your jaw, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it affect you. “I took him down just fine, thank you very much.”
“Only after he had you pinned,” he shot back, his tone dark. “If I hadn’t been there—”
“You’d have missed the chance to play hero, right?” You crossed your arms and forced a half-smile. “Does it hurt your pride that I can handle things on my own, Kitten?”
His expression shifted, and you could have sworn he looked taken aback for a split second before he rolled his eyes. “You know, I’ve met a lot of reckless people. But you? You’re in a league of your own.”
Before you could shoot back, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Five minutes out from target.”
You felt the adrenaline start to pump, the tension with Bucky simmering under the surface. But there was no time for bickering now. You both had a job to do.
The two of you slipped out of the jet, making your way down the dusty hillside that overlooked the HYDRA base. The place was deserted on the surface, a cluster of low buildings with faded insignias and the eerie quiet of a ghost town.
“Looks clear,” you muttered, scanning the area through the binoculars. “There should be an entrance at the west end, right behind that main building.”
Bucky nodded, keeping his gaze trained ahead, but his posture was stiff. “This whole thing feels off. I don’t like it.”
“Noted,” you replied tersely. “But we have a job to do, remember?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he shot you a glare. “If you’re gonna keep talking, maybe aim that mouth at the target.”
You bit back a retort, inhaling sharply. Despite the irritation bubbling up inside, you reminded yourself to stay focused. “Fine. I’ll lead.”
“Over my dead body.” Bucky’s words came out harsh, yet there was a glint of something you couldn’t place in his eyes—concern? It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual guarded glare.
“Look,” you said, exasperated, “we’ve been through this before. I know what I’m doing.”
“Then prove it.” He gestured forward. “I’ll cover you.”
You were thrown by the sudden relent but didn’t waste time questioning it. Keeping low, you crept forward, Bucky right behind, your heart hammering in your chest as you approached the entrance.
The base was darker than expected, the air heavy with dust and the stale scent of metal and chemicals. A feeling of unease settled over you as you moved silently through the corridors, listening for any sign of movement.
“I’ll check the left side,” you whispered.
“No. Stick together,” Bucky replied, voice low and firm. “Can’t afford to lose sight of you.”
You bit back another snappy response, pushing down the slight warmth his words stirred up. “Fine,” you muttered, focusing on the task at hand. But as you reached a fork in the hallway, something metal clicked underfoot.
“Y/N—”
The floor dropped out before you had a chance to react. You barely registered Bucky’s hand reaching for you as you were plunged into darkness, a shock of cold air and the weightlessness of the fall hitting you all at once.
You landed hard, feeling a sharp sting in your ankle as Bucky’s form landed beside you with a thud. He was quick to his feet, helping you up even as you grimaced.
“Seriously?” he muttered, scanning the dark room with narrowed eyes. “A pit trap? They’ve really thought of everything.”
“Stop gloating and help me out of here, Barnes,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to test your injured foot. But the pain was blinding, and you leaned into him instinctively.
His grip tightened, his face softening ever so slightly. “Not gloating, Doll. Just pissed that we’re in this mess.” He looked down at your ankle, his jaw clenching. “You’re not walking on that. I’ll carry you out.”
You shook your head, wincing. “I can manage. Just give me a second.”
“Not gonna happen,” he replied, an unusual tenderness coloring his tone. Without waiting for you to argue, he scooped you up, one arm around your back and the other under your knees.
You let out a huff, but somewhere in the back of your mind, a part of you softened. The world looked different from this angle, cradled in his arms, his intense gaze focused ahead. You hadn’t realized how strong he was—not just physically but in how he held himself, unwavering even when things seemed grim.
And somehow, the closeness didn’t feel quite as irritating as you would have imagined.
The pit trap had deposited you both into some kind of hidden maintenance tunnel, its dim lighting casting everything in a cool, blue hue. Bucky’s footsteps were steady beneath you as he carried you through the narrow corridor, his grip unwavering even as you wiggled, trying to insist that you could walk.
“Would you stop squirming?” he muttered, his face half-lit in shadow.
You crossed your arms, huffing. “I told you I don’t need to be carried, Barnes. I’m fine.”
Bucky’s grip tightened as he shifted you slightly in his arms, his gaze never wavering from the path ahead. “Sure, you’re fine, Kitten. That’s why you nearly collapsed when you tried to put weight on that ankle.”
“I didn’t—” you started, but the way his eyes flicked down to you, that borderline-smirk on his lips, had you swallowing your words.
You kept your gaze forward, refusing to meet his eyes, and let the silence settle, if only because you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. You tried to ignore the way his arms felt around you, sturdy and strangely comforting. There was a warmth radiating from him that made you feel oddly safe, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated finding with him. The “Winter Soldier” was the last person you would have expected to feel this around.
“We’ll be out of here soon,” he muttered as if sensing your unease, his tone softer than usual. “Then you can get back to calling the shots.”
The words, laced with his usual edge of sarcasm, had an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. He shifted his hold on you just enough for you to feel the protective firmness in his grip, and somehow, it had you biting back a smile.
“Doesn’t look like there’s an easy way back up,” he added. “We’ll have to find another way around.”
“So,” you muttered, giving in just slightly to the warmth pooling in your chest, “you admit we’re a little stuck?”
He raised an eyebrow. “We? No, Doll. You’re the one who had to go left instead of sticking together.”
You scoffed. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”
“Didn’t say that.” He gave you a slight smirk, his face close enough for you to notice a softness in his features that was usually hidden behind his intense stare. “I’m just saying, maybe you could try listening every once in a while.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, sure. Because you’re just so much fun to listen to.”
But the edge in your words had softened, and you felt your heartbeat quicken when his expression shifted, something warmer flickering behind the teasing smirk. The silence returned, charged and lingering.
Part 5: A Moment of Vulnerability
After what felt like an eternity, Bucky set you down gently on a raised portion of the tunnel floor. The pain in your ankle flared up when you shifted, and you winced, grabbing onto his arm before you could catch yourself.
His face was unreadable, but his hand remained firm on your shoulder. “Let me look at it.”
You hesitated, still feeling that simmering irritation. But there was something in his eyes—an unspoken plea for you to trust him—that made you relent. You nodded, and he crouched down, his fingers gentle as he pushed your pant leg up enough to examine the ankle. His touch was warm against your skin, a surprisingly careful caress as he probed the area.
“This is going to bruise,” he murmured. “But it doesn’t feel broken.”
“Good to know, Doctor Barnes,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone. But his eyes flicked up to yours, that softness returning, and you felt your breath hitch.
“Why do you always do that?” he asked, voice quiet.
You frowned. “Do what?”
“Make everything a fight.” He shook his head, smirking faintly. “Even now, you’d rather act like you’re fine than just admit that you’re hurt.”
His words struck a nerve, and you shifted uncomfortably. “It’s called self-sufficiency, Barnes. Not all of us need a team to hold our hand.”
The faint smile on his lips faltered, and his gaze grew serious. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”
The weight of his words surprised you, their sincerity cutting through your defenses like a knife. You opened your mouth to retort, but found yourself at a loss. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, almost vulnerable—and the realization that he cared, even a little, stirred something unfamiliar in you.
“Why do you care?” The question came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper.
He held your gaze, his voice equally soft. “Because I know what it’s like to try to do everything on your own. It doesn’t end well, Doll.”
The air between you felt charged, and for once, you didn’t have a comeback ready. His hand lingered on your shoulder a moment longer, and you thought you saw him lean in, ever so slightly, before he cleared his throat and looked away.
“We should keep moving,” he muttered, pulling his hand back. He helped you to your feet, carefully supporting you as you tested your weight on the injured ankle. It wasn’t perfect, but with his steady grip around your waist, it was manageable.
As you continued down the tunnel, the silence was different—no longer tense, but comfortable in a way you hadn’t thought possible. There was a newfound understanding between you, fragile yet undeniable, that settled over the usual friction. It was like you’d seen a glimpse of each other without the walls up, and somehow, that was scarier than any HYDRA base you’d ever encountered.
The tunnel eventually led to a service door that opened into the heart of the HYDRA base. You both fell into a natural rhythm, Bucky keeping one hand steady on your arm as you limped beside him. The adrenaline from your mission kept the pain manageable, though you found yourself more aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours, his steady presence beside you grounding and reassuring.
The corridor opened into a spacious, dimly lit room—likely a command center, judging by the rows of consoles and monitors lining the walls. It was empty now, with only the faint hum of machinery disturbing the silence.
Bucky pulled you back, his voice low. “This looks like what we need. You watch the entrance; I’ll search the terminals.”
You nodded, positioning yourself by the door as Bucky moved silently to the consoles. He slid a flash drive from his pocket, inserting it into one of the main systems and working quickly to upload whatever information SHIELD needed. For the first time, you found yourself watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, surprised by his focus and ease in the enemy stronghold.
A loud clang echoed from down the hall, snapping you back to attention. Your heart leapt as you spotted shadows moving, HYDRA agents closing in.
“Bucky—”
“I know,” he muttered, eyes darting to the flash drive’s slow-loading progress bar. “We need a few more seconds.”
The footsteps grew louder, voices murmuring just outside the door. You moved instinctively, pressing your back against the wall, one hand on your gun as Bucky finally retrieved the drive.
“Got it,” he said, turning to you. His eyes flicked between you and the door, his expression hardening. “Get behind me. I’ll clear a path.”
Despite everything in you that screamed to resist, you felt a surge of trust and nodded. You took your place at his back, leaning slightly on your good leg as he readied his gun, his stance calm and sure.
The agents burst through the door, and Bucky moved like lightning. He took down the first two with precise, calculated strikes, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he blocked blows and countered with swift punches. The tension and focus between the two of you was perfect, synchronized—he was a constant, unwavering force, covering you as you fired at the agents attempting to flank him.
But as the last agent fell, one final man staggered to his feet, pulling a weapon from his belt—a grenade, small but deadly.
You reacted without thinking, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and shoving him to the side as you dove away. The explosion rocked the room, and debris rained down around you. Pain bloomed along your shoulder as you hit the ground, hard, but you were alive. Bucky scrambled over to you, his face pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury.
“Are you insane?” he hissed, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up. “You could have—”
His words cut off as he saw your grimace, and his anger melted into something raw, a kind of vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.
“I—I’m fine,” you managed, your voice weak but steady. “Just wanted to save your sorry ass, is all.”
Bucky let out a choked laugh, but the way his gaze lingered on you was anything but casual. “Doll, if you were trying to kill me with worry, mission accomplished.”
You gave a wry smile, trying to shift to a sitting position, but he stopped you, one hand bracing your back as he helped you up. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and he seemed to realize it, pulling back with a sheepish look.
“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here before either of us does anything else stupid.”
The tunnel eventually led to a service door that opened into the heart of the HYDRA base. You both fell into a natural rhythm, Bucky keeping one hand steady on your arm as you limped beside him. The adrenaline from your mission kept the pain manageable, though you found yourself more aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours, his steady presence beside you grounding and reassuring.
The corridor opened into a spacious, dimly lit room—likely a command center, judging by the rows of consoles and monitors lining the walls. It was empty now, with only the faint hum of machinery disturbing the silence.
Bucky pulled you back, his voice low. “This looks like what we need. You watch the entrance; I’ll search the terminals.”
You nodded, positioning yourself by the door as Bucky moved silently to the consoles. He slid a flash drive from his pocket, inserting it into one of the main systems and working quickly to upload whatever information SHIELD needed. For the first time, you found yourself watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, surprised by his focus and ease in the enemy stronghold.
A loud clang echoed from down the hall, snapping you back to attention. Your heart leapt as you spotted shadows moving, HYDRA agents closing in.
“Bucky—”
“I know,” he muttered, eyes darting to the flash drive’s slow-loading progress bar. “We need a few more seconds.”
The footsteps grew louder, voices murmuring just outside the door. You moved instinctively, pressing your back against the wall, one hand on your gun as Bucky finally retrieved the drive.
“Got it,” he said, turning to you. His eyes flicked between you and the door, his expression hardening. “Get behind me. I’ll clear a path.”
Despite everything in you that screamed to resist, you felt a surge of trust and nodded. You took your place at his back, leaning slightly on your good leg as he readied his gun, his stance calm and sure.
The agents burst through the door, and Bucky moved like lightning. He took down the first two with precise, calculated strikes, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he blocked blows and countered with swift punches. The tension and focus between the two of you was perfect, synchronized—he was a constant, unwavering force, covering you as you fired at the agents attempting to flank him.
But as the last agent fell, one final man staggered to his feet, pulling a weapon from his belt—a grenade, small but deadly.
You reacted without thinking, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and shoving him to the side as you dove away. The explosion rocked the room, and debris rained down around you. Pain bloomed along your shoulder as you hit the ground, hard, but you were alive. Bucky scrambled over to you, his face pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury.
“Are you insane?” he hissed, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up. “You could have—”
His words cut off as he saw your grimace, and his anger melted into something raw, a kind of vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.
“I—I’m fine,” you managed, your voice weak but steady. “Just wanted to save your sorry ass, is all.”
Bucky let out a choked laugh, but the way his gaze lingered on you was anything but casual. “Doll, if you were trying to kill me with worry, mission accomplished.”
You gave a wry smile, trying to shift to a sitting position, but he stopped you, one hand bracing your back as he helped you up. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and he seemed to realize it, pulling back with a sheepish look.
“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here before either of us does anything else stupid.
🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
Back at SHIELD headquarters, you sat on the edge of a cot in the medical wing, absently fiddling with the fresh bandage on your shoulder. The mission debrief had gone by in a blur, details passing over your head as the exhaustion settled into your bones. You’d barely processed the events of the night, especially what had happened with Bucky—how he’d been right there, steady as a rock when you’d needed him most.
You glanced up, and there he was, lingering in the doorway, looking as hesitant as you’d ever seen him. Bucky rarely seemed unsure of anything, let alone of himself, and yet here he was, standing like he didn’t quite know if he should come in or leave.
“Need something?” you asked, your tone light but genuine curiosity edging through.
He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare gesture of uncertainty. His gaze was trained on the floor as if the sterile tile held answers to questions he didn’t want to ask out loud. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking at you with a seriousness that softened around the edges.
“I just…wanted to check in,” he said, voice quiet and strangely vulnerable. “You did good out there, you know.”
You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Was that a compliment?”
A faint smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, though his eyes were softer than usual. “Don’t get used to it, Darling.”
You let out a small laugh, the tension loosening between you, but the lightness faded as you noticed the way he kept looking at you, like he was still holding back.
There was a charged silence, thick and filled with words unsaid, and it took all your strength not to look away from him. You didn’t want to be the one to break the moment, afraid that if you spoke too soon, whatever this was between you might shatter.
“Look, I…” he started, his voice barely a murmur as he took a tentative step forward. “I don’t know what we are, or what this is supposed to be.” He stopped, swallowing hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I know that seeing you go after that grenade… I thought—” He broke off, his jaw tensing, the words catching as he struggled to get them out. “It scared me, Doll. A lot more than it should have.”
The confession hung in the air, raw and weighty. Your heartbeat quickened, the vulnerability in his words hitting you like a tidal wave. Bucky was not someone who confessed easily, who bared his heart openly—and yet, here he was, doing just that. His expression was a careful mixture of hope and apprehension, like he was bracing for impact, expecting to be turned away.
Your lips curled into a teasing smile, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in your voice. “So…you care about me?”
He rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his lips was genuine, soft. “Yeah, Kitten. Guess I do.”
You felt a laugh bubble up, disbelief and relief mingling in equal measure, and for a second you forgot everything else—the mission, your injuries, the pain. The weight of his confession settled in, comforting and thrilling all at once. It felt like stepping into uncharted territory with him, a place you’d never thought you’d end up but were inexplicably drawn toward.
“Guess I care about you too,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a cautious step closer, your fingers brushing against his. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of his sleeve, grounding you in this surreal moment.
He reached up slowly, his hand grazing your cheek as he cupped it gently, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. You held your breath as he leaned in, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, as if asking for permission. And when you nodded, just the smallest of nods, his lips finally met yours, soft and warm.
The kiss was tentative, almost shy, but you felt the depth of it—the weight of every unspoken word and suppressed feeling finally laid bare. Bucky’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. It was a mixture of relief, longing, and something stronger, something you hadn’t dared to name until now.
When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The world felt quieter, smaller somehow, like it was just the two of you in that little medical room, safe from everything else.
He looked down at you, that familiar smirk creeping back onto his face. “So, Doll, do we go back to hating each other tomorrow? Because I think I’ll miss the arguments.”
You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Hate to break it to you, Barnes, but I think we’re past the ‘hating’ part.”
“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on your waist as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “What part are we at, then?”
You felt your cheeks heat up, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I think we’re at the part where you finally admit I’m the better agent.”
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through you. “Not a chance, Kitten. But keep trying—I like seeing you all fired up.”
You shook your head, grinning, unable to stop the smile that seemed to come so easily around him now. “Guess I’ll just have to keep proving it, then.”
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the teasing banter dying down but leaving behind a new kind of warmth that you hadn’t felt before. You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The words held a quiet promise, one that felt surprisingly natural coming from him.
And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe—like you’d found a partner, an ally, someone who would stand by you no matter what. Whatever happened from here, you knew you weren’t facing it alone.
And somehow, that made all the difference.
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So, something a bit angsty for you guys - did we enjoy it? 🤔 Comments are really, really appreciated, they let me know what you want!
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thehereticdiaries · 3 days ago
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Pack Mentality: Chapter Two
Chapter Summary: You meet your new pack after having a rather embarrassing conversation with Chan Warnings: Talk of past abuse/controlling behavior
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As you stepped into the elevator of the dorm building, you were trying not to stare at Seungmin. Keyword: trying. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. You weren’t trying to be rude or make him uncomfortable, you were just confused. During the walk from the hobby shop to the dorms, Seungmin’s scent started changing. Well, not exactly changing, he still smelled of a comforting mix of cedarwood and lemon, but it was like it was getting stronger. That something extra that you smelled on Chan was slowly permeating Seungmin’s scent. 
“I told everyone except for our other omega to wait in their rooms.” You were shaken from your thoughts when Chan broke the silence. “I’m gonna introduce them slowly. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You were nervous to meet six new people, but knowing there was another omega eased your nerves. The three of you shuffled into the landing of the dorm to take off your shoes. You stepped into an extra pair of slippers then followed Chan into the living room. Seungmin turned down another hallway, you assumed he was going to tell the others that you were here. The bright smell of citrus and spearmint radiated from a very excited blonde. 
“Hi! You must be Y/N, I’m so happy to meet you,” the blonde grinned at you. “I’m Felix.”
“You’re minty, like me.” You cringed internally. You had just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Felix’s smile somehow grew wider.
“Oh my god, you’re adorable!” Felix giggled at your reddened cheeks. “Can I give you a hug?” You nodded and Felix immediately pulled you into his chest. You buried your nose into his collarbone, inhaling his scent. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax for the first time since you were brought into the shop’s office. 
“How about we sit down, get comfortable,��� Chan suggested after letting you indulge for a minute. “There’s some things I’d like to talk about while it’s just you, me, and Felix.” You forced yourself to untangle from Felix with a pout. Felix pulled you to sit on his lap on the large sectional while Chan occupied the recliner. 
“Right, this is going to be a bit personal. I figured you would be less anxious with another omega present.” You tensed up slightly, now worried that he was about to tell you they didn’t need or want another omega in the pack.
“It’s okay, love. We’re just getting your boundaries set in place,” Felix whispered, trailing his fingers over your spine. You sunk further into the blonde, nodding for them to continue.
“Do you know when your next heat is due?” Your eyes widened, not expecting the alpha to bring up your heat. It was a taboo subject at your parents’ home.
“Oh- um, it’s due in two and a half weeks. Why?” 
“I need to know if you want help with it or if you want to handle it yourself,” Chan explained. Your eyebrows furrowed.
“What do you mean?” You looked to Felix. “I thought I would just be locked in my room. That’s what my dad did whenever I went into heat.” Felix’s jaw dropped in horror, and you heard Chan inhale sharply.
“Sweetheart, I promise I am nothing like your dad. You don’t have to deal with your heat alone if you don’t want to. And if you do, we’ll get you set up at a heat sanctuary hotel.” Your eyes snapped back to Chan. 
“I didn’t even know those existed,” you admitted. Chan pinched the bridge of his nose, blown away by just how cruel your own father was to you. “You’d really help me? I don’t have to deal with the pain myself?”
“We are more than willing to help. Although I would be the first to do so,” Chan noted. 
“Wh- what?” 
“I’m the pack alpha, so I’m the first to have sex with our omegas.” You hid your flushed face behind your hands. 
“Awe, you don’t need to hide,” Felix cooed at your embarrassment. You peeked between your fingers at Chan, who waited patiently for you to signal him to continue. 
“I, um, I’ve never- I haven’t-” You struggled to form a coherent sentence. 
“Ah, you haven’t had sex yet?” You shook your head. “That’s okay, and if you don’t want to yet, I won’t be upset. You don’t have to answer right now. Think it over and let me know sometime next week.”
“I will,” you confirmed. “Are more pack members coming out soon?”
“I have one other question. It’s still about your heat, so you don’t have to answer right away,” Chan paused to check that you were still comfortable. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but you’re my mate.”
“Is that why your scent is different?” Your eyes widened in realization. 
“Yes, I didn’t want to freak you out, but I could tell from the moment I met you,” Chan revealed with a soft smile. Your heart swelled at the way he looked at you.
“Wait, Seungmin smells that way to me, too. Does that mean I have to choose one of you?” You fretted, unsure if you’d be able to make that choice.
“You don’t have to choose. It’s possible to have more than one mate,” Felix interjected. “Chan’s my mate, too. Got the mark to prove it and everything.” You paused, trying to find the right words to express your emotions.
“If I’m being honest, I never expected to find a pack, let alone a mate. Does this mean I’ll have a pack mark and two claiming marks?” You were trying to process the new information. 
“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you,” Chan stated. “If you ask me to help with your heat, I’ll need to know beforehand if you want me to claim you.”
“O-oh! Why do you need to know before?”
“You’re not going to be totally yourself. You may ask for things while in that state of mind that you don’t actually mean.” You nodded slowly, absentmindedly picking at your fingers. “If you tell me that you don’t want to be claimed yet, I won’t do it even if you beg during your heat.”
“Okay, it’s a lot to think about, but I promise I’ll let you know soon.” Chan relaxed into the recliner, smiling fondly at you and Felix.
“You ready for Seungmin to bring out the other betas?” Felix asked while grabbing your hands to stop your nervous habit, mirroring the earlier actions of his alpha. You took a deep breath and nodded. Chan whipped out his phone, sending a text to Seungmin. Moments later, you heard rapid footsteps coming toward the living room. 
“New omega!!” A man with a heart-shaped smile slid across the hardwood. His enthusiasm caused you to giggle, which in turn had his smile brighten. Seungmin and another dark-haired man appeared behind the first. 
“Hi, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Hyunjin and that’s Jisung,” the calmer of the two newcomers introduced. Jisung plopped on the couch next to you and Felix, squeezing between your bodies and the arm of the couch and blocking Chan from view. The remaining betas sat on your other side. 
“Wow, you’re so pretty,” Jisung sighed, leaning his head on the back of the couch. 
“Thank you,” you squeaked, pink flooding your cheeks once again. Jisung’s smile morphed into a smirk.
“You’re even prettier when you blush,” he teased. You hid in Felix’s neck, causing the two to laugh. 
“Jisung,” Chan warned from his spot on the recliner. 
“Sorry, sorry.” The beta raised his hands in surrender. After Seungmin coaxed you out of your hiding spot, conversation flowed easily. They asked about your studies and how you liked your university, and you asked them about their job. 
“So you guys are idols? I’m part of a super famous pack?” You questioned. Seungmin snickered from behind you, so you turned to face him. “Is it really that funny? I’m only asking because I’m not sure if your fans will like me.”
“When you’re ready for us to announce you, STAY will love you. And if they have an issue, they aren’t real fans,” Hyunjin reassured. 
“Even if the fans are okay with me being in the pack, what about the company? Do you think they’ll have an issue with me having two of you as mates?” The betas perked up at the mention of mates.
“Two?” Jisung repeated. 
“Mhm. Chan and Seungmin,” you confirmed, a little nervous that the others would be upset or feel left out. 
“Oooooo! You lucky bastards,” Jisung complained half-heartedly. 
“And she hasn’t even met the other alphas yet. Maybe she has more.” Felix wiggled his eyebrows at you. You snorted, slapping a hand over your mouth. They didn’t look upset, much to your relief. Seungmin stared at you, looking utterly lovestruck, a fact that Hyunjin did not let slide.
“Awwweeee, look at Min!” Hyunjin poked Seungmin’s side repeatedly. “He’s got heart eyes.”
“Shut up,” Seungmin muttered while swatting the older beta’s hand away. 
“Alright, alright, calm down,” Chan spoke up after staying silent for most of the conversation. “Y/N, are you good to meet the others? They’re gonna come in one at a time.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m excited to meet them,” you agreed. Chan sent another message out, and a minute later a young man with fox-like eyes entered the room. He grinned upon seeing you. His scent washed over you like a warm blanket. Cinnamon and vanilla soothed your nerves, feeling like you just stepped into a bakery.
“Hello, I’m Jeongin,” he greeted softly. He sat a little further from you on the same side as Seungmin. You wiggled your way out of Felix’s lap so you could sit between him and Jisung. It was easier to see everyone now that you were facing forward. The beta made a small noise of excitement, throwing an arm around your shoulders. 
“You smell like a cinnamon bun,” you mumbled dreamily. Jeongin looked to his lap to hide his blush, but the tips of his ears gave him away as they burned red. 
“Someone’s embarrassed,” Seungmin said in a sing-song voice while pinching the youngest pack member’s cheek. Jeongin groaned and pushed the beta’s hand away.
“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass anyone,” you apologized. “I just got excited cus this is the first time I’ve been comfortable around alphas.”
“Alphas usually make you uncomfortable?” Hyunjin asked despite the silent signals from Chan telling him to stop. You frowned and squished your cheek into Felix’s shoulder.
“They normally scare me. The only alphas I’ve been around were my dad and his friends.” 
“You don’t have to be scared of alphas anymore.” Jeongin’s pretty smile was gone, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I promise, me and Chan and everyone in this pack will make sure you’re safe.” 
“Thank you,” you smiled at Jeongin before turning to Chan. “I know you wanted the alphas to come in one at a time, but can I meet them both now? I want to have the whole pack together.”
“Yeah, I’ll call them in.” Chan sent out another text. His alpha puffed up with pride, pleased that you were already so caring for his pack. Once again, rapid footsteps approached the room. A very excited (and very muscular) man ran in with a bright smile. He immediately dropped down next to Jeongin. A much calmer man walked in next. He froze in his tracks, eyes locking onto you and nostrils flaring. 
“Minho, you alright?” Jisung asked. Minho ignored him, moving to kneel in front of you, never breaking eye contact. He gently grabbed your hand, running his thumb across your knuckles. 
“You’re real.” Tears gathered on the alpha’s lash line. “I’ve always hoped I would find my mate, just like my parents found each other.” You compulsively brushed your fingers over his cheekbone, your own eyes growing misty. 
“Does anyone want to explain what’s happening here?” The moment was broken by the alpha beside Jeongin. Minho exhaled loudly through his nose and you snickered at his annoyed expression. 
“Y/N is Chan, Seungmin, and Minho’s mate,” Hyunjin explained bluntly. 
“Oh no way! Congratulations on finding each other.” The alpha smacked Seungmin between his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from the beta. “I’m Changbin. He probably didn’t tell you, but Hyunjin is actually my mate.”
“Really?! Hyunjin, why didn’t you tell me?” You pouted. He only shrugged as an answer. Beside you, Jisung and Minho were having a silent conversation of eyebrow raises and head tilts, ultimately ending with the younger moving next to Changbin with a huff. Minho promptly took the spot next to you. As you looked over the pack, more specifically their pajamas, you came to a realization.
“I don’t have any of my stuff. What am I going to wear?” You asked, looking at Chan.
“You can use our clothes for now. Felix’s should fit alright, but we do need to decide when to go to your parents’ house for your belongings,” he noted and pulled up the pack’s shared calendar. “Looks like after Monday, we won’t have any days off for two weeks.”
“Dude, today’s Saturday. We’d have to go either tomorrow or Monday,” Jisung interjected. 
“Well, I do want to see my mom while I’m there. She has Sundays off and works from home on Mondays, so that works. But my dad also has the shop closed on Sundays and Mondays so he can be home with mom,” you explained. “I can just go by myself. You shouldn’t waste your days off helping me pack.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go to that house alone,” Chan stated firmly. “If your dad is there, then at least Changbin and I are going with you.”
“But-”
“No ‘buts’, dollface. We want to help you, so it isn’t a waste of our time off,” Changbin confirmed. You sighed, resigned to the fact they weren’t going to budge. 
“Okay, but Felix comes too. Showing up with two buff alphas would make my mom freak out.”
“Deal. Last thing to discuss is which room you’re gonna move into.” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure the only room that can fit another bed is the master bedroom with me and Jeongin.”
“Wh… what if I don’t want my own bed?” You stuttered. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you curiously.
“She wants to share a bed with someone,” Felix clarified. You nodded quickly.
“Not just one person, I’d like to sleep in everyone’s beds. I get nightmares sometimes, but I’ve never liked sleeping alone, even as a kid.” 
“I think we can arrange that,” Chan confirmed, grinning like an idiot.
“I’ll text my mom to see if we can go tomorrow.” You relaxed into Minho’s side and pulled out your phone.
“What the hell is that?” Felix pointed at your cracked iPhone 4. 
“My phone…?” You faltered at the disbelief on everyone’s faces. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s extremely outdated. I’m surprised it’s still running,” Chan scoffed. “I’m assuming your dad wouldn’t get you a newer phone?” You shook your head.
“Your dad should be thankful that I’m not going with you,” Minho seethed, a muscle flexing as he clenched his jaw. You didn’t answer, opting to text your mom. She answered right away, like always, which made you smile.
“We can go over tomorrow, they don’t have any plans,” you stated. 
“Right, so we’ll be getting you a new phone then going to pack up,” Chan started. “I don’t want you relying on that man anymore, and I’m nervous he may just cut your phone off.” You hummed in acknowledgement. You chatted with your new pack with a movie playing as background noise. For the first time in a long time, you were at ease. 
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Series Taglist: @ihrtlix @ohh-to-be-rich-and-pretty @holly-here @queen-in-the-shadows @whoreforeverythingspice @staytinyluv
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dreamauri · 11 hours ago
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♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part eight max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and wec prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for their selves in each others hearts. the commentators from sky sports call this puppy love
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Max was sitting cross-legged at the end of you’s bed, tugging on one end of a rope while Marshmallow, you spotted Dalmatian, gave it all he had on the other. Marshmallow growled playfully, his teeth gripping the rope as he crouched low, eyes shining with determination. Max was grinning, leaning back slightly to tease the dog by letting the rope slacken, only to give it another quick tug just as Marshmallow tried to make his move.
The game paused when you reappeared from the room service table, balancing two plates. She handed one over to Max, who glanced down to find a plate of kebabs, still steaming and smelling like a mouthwatering mix of spices. He blinked, caught off guard. He’d mentioned in a TikTok interview once that he loved kebabs, but he couldn’t remember telling you about it. She couldn’t have known . . . right?
You sat on the bed beside him, nibbling on your own food and looking entirely unbothered by the thought that you might’ve just exposed yourself. Marshmallow, on the other hand, was absolutely determined to ruin the peace, inching up next to you and giving you the most heart-melting stare as he eyed your kebab. She chuckled, shooing him off with your fork. “You already ate, mister.”
Meanwhile, Max was twirling his fork, glancing between the plate and you, and mustering up the courage to ask something that had been weighing on him. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “So . . . what’s your mom like?”
You paused mid-bite, looking at him with a mix of surprise and confusion. She’d never really been asked that before. It was then, as you were processing the question, that Marshmallow seized his chance. With a swift, triumphant chomp, he snagged a piece of kebab off your fork and trotted proudly over to Max’s side, plopping down as if Max had been his partner in crime.
You huffed, laughing softly as you watched your dog munch away before turning your gaze back to Max. “Well . . . I wouldn’t really know,” you started, your voice carrying an edge of practised nonchalance. “My mom was young, barely eighteen when I was born. I guess you just weren’t ready to handle it, so . . . you didn’t.” you tried to brush it off with a shrug, focusing on the flickering TV screen instead. “It didn’t really matter, though. My dad was always there, and I had Fernando, Carlos, Jenson . . . I grew up surrounded by people who cared. I was happy.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, each taking bites from their plates, and for once, Marshmallow seemed satisfied as he sat curled up by Max’s feet, licking his chops. you glanced back at Max, curiosity pricking at her. “Why’d you ask?”
Max hesitated. He didn’t want to admit he’d overheard Carlos mention it to Lando; he didn’t want to make you feel awkward. So he simply shrugged, offering you a gentle smile. “I know your dad pretty well, but your mom? Not so much. I get it, though,” he added softly, his gaze dropping to his plate. “In a way . . . I think we’re kind of similar. We both had parents who—weren’t really there in the way we needed.”
His words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt a surprising warmth bloom in your chest. She gave him a small, appreciative smile, inching a little closer until you could lean your head against his shoulder. You watched TV in silence, the show barely registering as you both sat in a quiet, shared understanding.
You ate in easy companionship until you suddenly remembered your conversation with Lando from earlier. You sat up, your eyes bright, catching Max mid-bite.
Max blinked, pausing as he chewed, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What’s up?”
She bit your lip, and without thinking twice, you asked, “Can I kiss you again?”
Max nearly choked on his kebab, swallowing quickly. “Uh, my mouth’s full of kebab, but . . .” He grinned, wiping his mouth on his wrist. “Sure. Please.”
He leaned in, giving you a quick, playful peck as you giggled, and for the first time, Max felt like he could happily sit here, lost in your laughter, for as long as you’d let him.
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“Is that guy serious?” you groaned, easing off the throttle as the black Alpine in front of you sluggishly took the corner, red lights flashing, his car creeping around the track like it had all the time in the world. You abandoned your fast lap, grip tightening around the wheel as frustration boiled over. “Is he fucking—who is it? Who’s number 31?”
“That was Ocon—”
“Ocon?” you cut off your engineer, voice sharp and incredulous. “Really? Is he serious with me right now? Again?” You sped past the Alpine, flipping the driver off as you zoomed down the straight, jaw clenched so hard you swore you could feel it in your temples.
Your radio crackled back. “That’s P15 for tomorrow, Yn. P15.”
“Great,” you shouted, sarcasm seething through your voice as you pushed the car into the pits. Every turn, every acceleration suddenly felt meaningless. You were stuck now. “That’s it? I’m done?”
“Yes, confirm. That is P16 for tomorrow.”
“Fucking hell.” The words hissed out before you could stop them, anger rushing like adrenaline in your veins. The second you pulled into the pits, you pulled your helmet off, ripping it free of the wires, and hopped out. As you strode over to your team, you could feel the weight of that disappointment pressing down, hard and relentless. Ocon’s little maneuver had cost you everything you’d worked for in qualifying, and now you were looking at a dismal starting position because he decided to mess around.
As you hit the weigh station, getting through the post-session formalities, you felt the simmering anger twist into something even sharper. And what made it worse was everyone around you treating you like a ticking time bomb that they needed to defuse. “Just calm down, Yn, it’s all right,” someone coaxed, a hand patting your shoulder gently. “Deep breath, all right?”
It took every ounce of self-control not to scream. You didn’t need their calm words, didn’t need to be handled like you were on the verge of a meltdown. They didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t okay, that losing your lap to an unnecessary block wasn’t something you could just brush off.
In the end, Ocon had done exactly what he wanted, securing his teammate’s spot in Q3 while shoving you down the grid. You could feel your fists clenching, the need to release all this pent-up frustration itching under your skin. Your PC stayed glued to your side as you made your way toward the briefing room, but your mind was still racing, stuck on that Alpine. If you saw Esteban after the debrief, he’d better have his helmet on—because right now, every thought you had involved giving him a piece of your mind and then some.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
direct messenges: Max + YN
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★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
‘Finally’, Charles thought as he leaned his folded arms on the back of your sim chair, watching you do a few laps on the circuit. You smiled a little when he unconsciously commented on what you should do differently, glancing up at him. “I think I know what I’m doing, Leclerc.” You joke, turning off the sim and scribbling your quiet time somewhere.
“But this is the first time you’ve driven here since 2017.” He reminds you, smiling down at you as you stand up. “I’ve also won here a few years ago.” If it was up to Charles, he’d let himself get lost in your eyes and melt at the sound of your sarcastic laugh, or the way you patted his chest before walking out. His eyes followed you as you regrouped with Carlos’ PR to prepare for the media pen, overhearing how your goal for tomorrow would be gaining points for the team, the same words you’ve said last weekend.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The start of the race had been a chaotic mess, with red flags and yellow flags throwing half the field off their game. But for you? It was a godsend. Each restart and caution felt like another opening, and you seized every one with a focus sharper than any you’d felt in weeks. Bit by bit, you clawed your way through the pack, pushing the limits of your car, finding every possible inch of track space until you found yourself in P2, just one position away from Max. And from there, the real chase began.
For the next grueling stretch, you stayed glued to his tail, pushing him to his absolute limit. You could almost imagine him there, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, knowing that one slight slip would cost him the lead. You were pushing him so hard, it felt like a game of chess at breakneck speeds—one where every maneuver, every millisecond counted.
Your engineer buzzed into your ear. “You’re gaining, Yn. Keep the pressure.”
“Copy,” you muttered, eyes locked on Max’s car just meters ahead. He was fast, but you had DRS in your back pocket, an advantage you let linger, savoring the chase. You didn’t need to pass him yet; you just needed to keep him pushing harder, faster, to build that gap. And it was working. The two of you were so far ahead of the rest of the field now that it felt like your own private battle.
Each time the DRS opened, you felt the adrenaline kick harder. You could pass him whenever you wanted, but where was the fun in that? You’d wait until the moment was perfect. Finally, with Logan Sargeant’s car ahead, you knew it was time. You opened DRS, overtaking Max with precision, your car slicing past his like it was second nature. Your heart surged as you glanced at him in the mirror, the split-second look of determination in his eyes making you grin.
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Now in the lead, you latched onto Logan, using his DRS to bolt ahead and create an impossible distance for Max to overcome. Each corner, each stretch, you could feel the power surging through you, knowing you’d not only taken the lead but had crafted a strategy that made it near impossible for him to catch you. Logan played his part well, too; after you overtook him, he got DRS off you, towing along behind you as you both surged forward. Watching Logan gain positions behind you almost felt like poetic justice.
It wasn’t until you reached the back markers that you glanced in your rearview mirror, expecting Max’s car to be right there, as relentless as he always was. But he wasn’t there.
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★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The crowd was roaring, a deafening symphony of cheers and applause, but you were hardly aware of anything except the pounding of your own heart. You stood on top of your car in Parc Fermé, fists raised to the sky, just like your dad used to after each of his wins. The moment felt surreal, as if it wasn’t just yours but his too, echoing through time. Closing your eyes, you could almost hear his voice, proud and booming, “You did it, kiddo.”
When you finally hopped down, the first person you spotted was Fernando. Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, leaping into his arms, your heart bursting with the joy of the moment. His hands pressed into your back, holding you close as his voice broke, thick with emotion. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!” The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a protective shield.
Pulling back, you caught the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes. His expression said everything his words couldn’t—this victory was more than a trophy; it was a piece of the past you’d resurrected. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and bittersweet nostalgia bubbling up inside you. “I felt him with me out there, you know?” you confessed, your voice soft.
As you reveled in the moment, somewhere in the crowd, Max was trying to make his way to you. His eyes darted through the throng, heart racing at the thought of celebrating your win together. He clutched a hair tie in his hand, a little memento from last night—a way to keep your hair back amid the whirlwind of the podium. But before he could reach you, a firm grip yanked him back by his shirt. Carlos stood there, his expression a silent warning that conveyed, Not now. Max froze, understanding the message, but the urge to congratulate you burned stronger than ever.
You were blissfully unaware of the tension, moving on to greet Susie Wolff, who pulled you in for a warm embrace. “Thank you, Yn,” she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve shown that it’s possible. We always knew it was, but now everyone else knows it too.” Her words settled deep within you, pride blooming like a flower in spring, the weight of her admiration lifting your spirits even higher.
Next came the Sainzes—Carlos Sr. wrapped you in a bear hug, his smile radiant, soon joined by Carlos Jr. and Fernando, pulling you into a warm, all-Spaniard embrace. Their laughter mingled with your own, a shared joy that felt like family. “You’re a legend now, Yn!” Carlos Jr. declared, beaming. “Next, we’ll need to build a statue!”
When it was time for your post-race interview, you spotted Jenson waiting with a grin, microphone in hand. But before he could say a word, you charged forward and threw your arms around him. He laughed in surprise, the warmth of your embrace catching him off guard. “Didn’t… didn’t expect that!” he exclaimed, patting your back awkwardly. Pulling back, you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, and for a moment, the nerves and adrenaline of the race melted into pure joy. “You really stole the show today, didn’t you?”
Finally, you climbed onto the podium, greeted by the deafening cheers of the crowd below. Mark Webber handed you the trophy, his eyes twinkling with pride. You hugged him tightly in thanks, feeling the warmth of his support. Taking a deep breath, you held the trophy close, leaning in to spit on it before kissing it, a ritual honoring your dad. As you lifted it high, tears pricked your eyes, the weight of the moment crashing down on you. This victory was yours, but it was his too, and you wished he were here to see it.
Before you could gather your thoughts, a jet of icy champagne hit your shoulder, and you yelped, spinning around to see Lando grinning mischievously, the bottle in hand. Laughter bubbled out of you as you grabbed a nearby bottle, spraying him back with equal enthusiasm. “You’re going to pay for that!” you shouted, both of you drenched in the celebratory chaos.
Once the festivities quieted, you sat down on the edge of the podium, the trophy still cradled in your arms, letting the crowd’s cheers fade to a distant hum. The reality of it all was slowly settling in, the magnitude of what you’d achieved filling every corner of your mind like a warm glow.
Then you felt a presence beside you. Charles plopped down on one side, ruffling your hair with a proud grin. “Look at you, superstar,” he said, unable to hide his admiration. On your other side, Lando joined you, patting your back. “I knew you could do it! The legend of Yn Ln begins now!” The three of you sat there in comfortable silence, gazing out at the sea of fans, feeling the victory settle into your bones, the warmth of friendship and accomplishment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.
“Have you guys heard from Max?”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
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★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the superyacht as the drivers celebrated the Australian Grand Prix victory. Laughter and music floated across the water, mingling with the soft sounds of waves lapping against the hull. You arrived fashionably late, the buzz of excitement already palpable in the air. As you stepped aboard, the chatter momentarily faded, and all eyes turned to you.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your Australian GP winner!” Lando’s voice rang out, booming over the crowd like a proud announcement. Cheers erupted, a chorus of claps and whoops filling the air, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you raised your trophy high above your head, the gleam of victory shining in your eyes.
“Thank you, thank you!” you called out playfully, the thrill of the moment making your heart race. The warmth of the celebration enveloped you, and as you mingled with your friends, you noticed Lando leaning against the railing, a playful scowl on his face. He shot you a stink eye, as if to say How dare you win before me?
With a grin, you sauntered over, wrapping your arms around him. “What’s wrong, Lando? Jealous?” you teased, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, your lips brushing against his skin. He feigned annoyance, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself.
“Just surprised you didn’t trip over your own trophy on the way here,” he shot back, but the light in his eyes betrayed him. You giggled and hugged him tighter, savouring the moment before excusing yourself. “I need to find Max,” you said, waving as you slipped away from the group.
Navigating through the crowd, you spotted Max in a quiet corner, leaning against the wall with that familiar, soft smile. As you approached, his eyes lit up, warmth radiating from him like a cozy fire. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“Hey, you,” you greeted, your voice a whisper amidst the sounds of the party.
“Hey yourself,” he replied, his eyes glinting with admiration. He reached up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You were amazing out there today.”
“Congratulations, Yn,” he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His honey-brown eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. It was as if the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.
“Thanks, Max,” you replied, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “It means a lot coming from you.” You could see the pride written all over his face, and it filled you with a sense of warmth.
He reached up, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and your breath caught for a moment. “You look amazing up there. Like a true champion,” he said softly. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he added, “Not that I’m surprised or anything.”
“Did you have fun out there?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and soft, filled with genuine interest. You could feel his warmth radiating through you, those honey feeling blue eyes melting any lingering stress.
“More than I ever expected,” you replied, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. You couldn’t help but admire how the moonlight caught his features, making his smile even more captivating.
In a moment of tenderness, he gently lifted a stray lock of hair from your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Then, with the hair tie he had saved from earlier—more like stole from your room from when you two had dinner together—he deftly gathered your hair into a loose ponytail. “There,” he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. “Now you’re ready to celebrate.”
You chuckled, warmth flooding your cheeks. “You’re the best, Max.” Your eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe. The noise of the party felt like a distant echo, the laughter and music muted by the magic of the moment.
“You know where the Red Bull fridge is?” You ask, taking his hand and pulling him to the rest of the party.
“You are an addict.” Max laughed as he followed along.
As the celebration continued, the music pulsed in the background, but you found a cozy corner on the yacht, curling up on a plush couch with your trophy nestled against your chest. You were half-awake, a blissful haze of exhilaration and a few too many drinks swirling in your mind. The trophy felt heavy yet comforting, a tangible reminder of your victory and the legacy behind it.
Max wandered through the yacht, searching for you among the revelers. Spotting your familiar figure sprawled out on the couch, a gentle smile spread across his face. He quietly made his way over, sitting beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. His fingers instinctively reached out, brushing through your hair with a tender, soothing motion.
You stirred slightly at his touch, eyes fluttering open to find him gazing down at you with a soft, affectionate expression. “Hey,” he said quietly, as if afraid to break the tranquility of the moment. “What are you doing down here all alone?”
“Mmm . . . just reminiscing,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleepiness. “It’s just . . everything feels so unreal.” You shifted slightly, hugging the trophy tighter as a sleepy smile spread across your face. “I was thinking about my dad.”
Max’s heart softened at the mention of your father. “What about him?”
You took a deep breath, the memories flooding back, sparkling with nostalgia. “You know how the Australian GP was always our favorite? We used to come here every year.” A giggle escaped your lips, your mind drifting back to sun-soaked days. “He would always say, ‘This is where legends are made, Yn!’ and I would dream about being on that podium one day.”
Max listened intently, his fingers still weaving through your hair, his gaze locked onto your face as you spoke. “We’d spend the whole week surfing, chasing the waves. He’d push me to go bigger, to not be afraid. I can still hear him cheering for me, ‘Go on, my little champion!’” Your eyes sparkled with fondness, but there was a hint of sadness that Max caught.
“Did you surf today?” he asked gently, wanting to keep the conversation flowing, to draw you deeper into those cherished memories.
You shook your head slowly. “Nah, I didn’t. Too busy racing, I guess.” A small laugh escaped you. “But it doesn’t matter. I feel like I brought a piece of him with me today. Winning here... it’s like I finally made it happen. I know he’s proud.”
Max’s heart swelled as he absorbed your words. “He is, Yn. You did something incredible today. I could see it in your eyes out there.” He brushed a thumb against your cheek, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve honored his legacy.”
You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “Thanks, Max. I really needed this. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
In that quiet moment, as you shared your memories, a profound connection blossomed between you two, weaving your past into the present. Max leaned a little closer, whispering softly, “I’ll always be here to remind you of how amazing you are. You’re more than just a champion—you’re a force.”
With a sleepy smile, you closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to drift off once more, comforted by his presence. The gentle rhythm of his fingers in your hair lulled you into a peaceful state, the chaos of the party fading into the background as you felt safe, cherished, and deeply understood.
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redvexillum · 2 days ago
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OH. MY. STARS. 🌠 This was a wild ride. Holy Smoly. I have words (but like since when do I don't?)
This story took my breath away and spun me right into the underworld of FEELS. It’s like I’m caught in a maelstrom of Alastor’s intense, electrifying allure and the reader's total deer-in-the-headlights horror (or is it excitement?) – I can’t decide which is more delicious! The agonized screams from outside the bar? Perfect setup! Alastor’s nonchalant, scheming aura just simmering under the surface, while he eyes the reader like they’re the last morsel in Hell's buffet… I’m SCREAMING! 😱💀
And let’s talk about that tension. The way Alastor slips out of the shadows, chin barely brushing the reader’s shoulder – my heart almost stopped right there! How does he manage to be so simultaneously terrifying and charming?! And then, BAM, he pulls this innocent “Oh, but wouldn’t you rather avoid the rain?” bit with a sly invitation to his own personal bayou – a setup that is, obviously, a one-way ticket to more trouble than anyone should be able to handle.
AND CHARLIE!!! Sweeping in with that precious encouragement, giving Alastor the perfect excuse to lure the reader in deeper! You just know there’s no escaping his plans once you’re in that swampy paradise of his, especially when he starts calling the reader "Doe." I AM MELTING. 🥵
And those details! The subtle scent cues driving him wild, the way he smells her not-fear but something else entirely—I practically melted with every little hint of his inner struggle not to just devour her. It’s honestly unhinged how much this story plays with both their senses, building tension with every brush of his fingers and shift of his voice into static. His smugness over her denial? Dead. It’s so obvious how hard he’s trying to maintain control, just barely, and that’s exactly why we’re HERE for this devilishly slow burn. 😩🔥
Can we talk about that moment when she tries to deny her attraction, and he just—loses that grin? The way the tentacles (!!!) come into play and his claws trace her skin? It’s so well-paced, we’re practically there with her, barely able to breathe, wanting to keep denying everything while knowing it’s utterly useless. He’s so unrelenting, towering over her, taking her senses one by one, making her every nerve scream. And then that final assault on her last defenses… that kiss, the teasing, the tension and her inevitable fall… I was actually a puddle. 😭💖
OOF AND THEN THE way he teases and denies, and that touch of magic adding layers upon layers to the scene—it's like he’s literally weaving himself into every fibre of their being. Not only are the details here tantalizing, but they are so immersive I could feel each shiver, each restraint, each bit of delicious torment. And don't even get me started on the language in this; it’s positively sinful. Every line had me on edge.
And THAT ending? The fact that after all that pleasure, all that surrender, the reader is just beginning to realize the depth of their bond to Alastor… that they’re now forever his? I am LIVING for it! Pure obsession.
Alastor x FReader.
CW: angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), ropes, bondage, punishment, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, edging overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).
(+ aftercare for 'reader').
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Word Count: 9240.
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Forever Bound.
The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.
All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.
You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.
Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.
It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.
As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.
Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.
Your attention soul.
Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.
“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.
Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.
You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.
“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.
You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’. However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.
“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”
Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin freezes, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind, he almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.
You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.
You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... if not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer might take it upon himself to eject you... right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.
With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating, “that would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand, you are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.
“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.
To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.
You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.
Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him, paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.
You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.
His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.
“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more. If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.
You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.
“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”
You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it, the sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status, choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.
He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.
Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in there, and just how vast it might be... is it some sort of pocket dimension...
He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again, the warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.
“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again, feeling annoyed at your reaction, but he doesn’t let it show.
You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.
So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.
It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.
Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.
You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.
Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.
You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.
As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.
“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.
Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.
You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.
“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”
“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.
“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”
“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone, he hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.
Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.
Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.
Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”
“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.
Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.
Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.
“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”
You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.
“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.
“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.
You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.
However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.
“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.
His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.
“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.
Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.
“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”
He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.
You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.
You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.
Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.
You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”
You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.
He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.
Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.
He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.
He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.
His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.
Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.
Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.
He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.
Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.
His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.
Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.
He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.
His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”
You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you can’t comprehend what he’s talking about.
You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.
“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.
“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”
You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.
“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”
“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.
“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”
“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.
Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.
The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.
He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.
“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment.”
You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?
You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.
“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”
You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.
“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.
“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.
He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.
Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.
He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.
“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.
You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.
He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.
He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even begin unravelling what it signifies.
An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.
“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.
You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”
“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.
“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.
You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.
In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master.”
The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.
SMACK, you cry out in pain as the next strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”
The next he has mercy from you enduring and obeying on the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you Master.”
You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.
You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.
This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.
Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.
“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more, then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”
Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable precipice, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.
You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.
“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.
Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.
Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.
“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.
The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.
“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.
The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.
The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.
He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your arse at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.
“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again.
He sounded utterly euphoric, and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.
Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.
You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me Dear, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding is the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”
“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.
He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.
You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.
“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.
“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.
“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.
“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.
Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.
You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state of overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly insensible from his continued assault on your senses.
“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.
“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”
You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.
Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.
“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.
“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.
“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.
One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down onto you.
“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.
Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.
Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.
The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.
He groans in pleasure at your taste, hip hips rutting forward instinctively.
“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.
“Language darling, no need to be vulgar,” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jolting with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.
“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.
He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.
You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.
He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him.
You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.
“PLEASE!”
You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.
With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.
His hands push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.
Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.
The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.
The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.
He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.
“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more with a stuttered cry for you as he eases you through it again with his toiling cock.
Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.
His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “... Well now, you are a work of art... So weak, so pathetic, so mine... My dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.
His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.
Every pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.
You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.
“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.
Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.
Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.
The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.
Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure as he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.
Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.
Desperately your arms tugs relentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.
You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, they felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like it’s pressed under your tail too.
You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.
“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.
You break.
Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you wail through your third release absolutely bathing him in your squirt, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.
Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.
Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.
Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.
Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.
Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”
There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.
Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.
His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.
Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.
The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.
“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.
Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.
Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle, secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.
The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?
Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.
He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.
He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.
Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.
He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.
“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.
“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”
Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or barkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him...
Forever Bound.
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A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜
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