#well again no promises since both life and my brain jumping on and off of walls at the speed of light

[energeticpoltergeist]

i have yet again drawn something Fire Emblem related

still kinda sucky at drawing FE characters, but im slowly figuring it out and seeing as i have plans(which i'll hopefully be able to act upon sooner then later, no promises though) im going to be getting a lot of practice in my future anyways yeah, Chrom time

[nerdiel-has-no-braincells]

A Lifetime | Death

feat: Nanami Kento x fem!reader, Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

cw: cussing, mention of death/suicide, mental illness, slight child neglect, spoilers for jjk

summary: taking the news of the death of your husband was something you never expected. you spiral into despair as you grieve

a/n: this hasn’t been proofread, so please forgive any typos and mistakes! I write on my phone and I have autocorrect on because I’m too lazy to fix what I type

next chapter ↝ | masterlist

You stood in the kitchen staring at Yaga with wide eyes, your hands shaking.

“W-What?” you asked quietly.

Yaga rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled through his nose. He knew this would be hard, but he wanted to be the one to tell you rather than anyone else. He was your teacher and friend.

“Nanami Kento was killed in battle against the curse Mahito. Itadori Yuji reported this incident as soon as he could.” Yaga spoke quietly.

Your heart stopped and the shaking proceeded to become worse, causing your hands to crush the glass you were holding as you were about to set a glass of tea down for Yaga. This caused the porcelain shards to cut into your hand, causing Yaga to immediately jump from his seat, rounding the island in your kitchen to get to you.

You couldn’t feel anything though, couldn’t process the news. The wounds you received didn’t even register to you as Yaga took your hand and ran it under the water, gently taking out the shards.

Kento, your beloved husband, was killed. By a curse. He had told you about the upcoming incident with the promise of coming home on time as usual. You remember him leaving in the morning as usual, leaving you with a kiss to the top of your son’s forehead and a kiss to your lips, making sure to tell you both that he loved you.

But he wasn’t coming home. Ever again.

As soon as your brain processes this, the tears welled up in your eyes, your legs giving out and you fall to the floor. The fall was softened by Yaga, who was in the middle of treating your wounds.

Once you’re on the floor, the tears began to flow, heaving sobs and screams escaping your throat. You’ve lost the love of your life, your soul mate, your best friend. You couldn’t believe this to be real, hitting yourself in order to determine whether this was real or just a terrible and excruciating nightmare.

After the first hit, you raised your hand once more, ready to strike yourself again before Yaga gently grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N.” He spoke.

You had no energy to fight against him. The air escaped from your lungs and you felt yourself have a panic attack. How were you supposed to go on without him? How can he not be here to watch your son grow?

And then it hit you — your son. How was he going to process the news? How will you tell him?

Your mom would come home after picking your son up from preschool in a couple of hours. He was so attuned to your emotions that he would know something would be off. Your son was only 4, he wouldn’t fully comprehend grief just yet as he was still learning how to be more attuned to his emotions and keep them under control.

Fortunately for you, he had his father’s personality. He was incredibly smart and understood things perfectly fine when it came to anger, but he had never had to learn how to control his grief.

The thought split your already broken heart further, feeling as if the shards of your heart had spread and was stabbing you on the inside, slowly making its way through your body, making sure to stab every nerve you had along the way.

“Y/N.” Yaga spoke to you in a gentle tone.

For the first time since you found out, you looked at Yaga through blurred eyes, fully recognizing that your tears hadn’t stopped and Yaga had been holding your hands. Your throat burned, just how long were you screaming as your tears fell?

Yaga’s expression was that of utmost concern. He was your teacher, having taught you, Nanami, and Haibara. The three of you were close to each other as he remembered.

Eventually you and Nanami had begun dating within your first year before getting married after he left the Jujutsu world. Yaga, of course, had been invited as Nanami’s best man. The wedding itself was beautiful and you were stunning. The way your and Nanami’s eyes sparkled as you saw each other was something out of romance novels and Yaga felt a sort of pride knowing that he had watched the two of you since the beginning.

And here he was, at the end, the one place where he didn’t want to be as he watched you crumble in front of his very eyes. Jujutsu sorcerers dying was almost common, but Nanami was a great sorcerer. Yaga should have known that even the strong ones would fall eventually.

First Gojo disappears, and now Nanami is dead, two things Yaga never would have expected. But he had grieved as much as he could, it was your turn to grieve. And he was here for you as often as he can be due to the events in Shivuya taking what little sorcerers we’re available. He would have asked you to join, but he didn’t want to risk Yu to become an orphan at such an early age when he’s expected to manifest his powers any day now.

Looking into your eyes, he felt his heart break. You were never to look like this, so broken and done.

You were waiting patiently for Yaga to speak, the tears never ending as you hiccup every so often, the sobs having done so much to your throat.

“Nana- no, Kento,” he corrected himself “was a great sorcerer and he will be deeply remembered throughout the years. I will help you with funeral services as soon as Shibuya is dealt with, this I promise you.”

You tried your best to smile, showing Yaga the appreciation you feel, but it felt so wrong to smile, not while you’re grieving. Instead, you nod. You couldn’t find it in your heart to be vocal fearing that as soon as you open your mouth, you’ll start screaming again.

Yaga continued to hold your hands as you worked through your tears before he was called away.

You hadn’t moved from your marital bed since Yaga left, hugging Kento’s pillow tight, feeling your heart painfully pounding against your chest, your body growing numb as emotions left your body completely. Even the feel of your own heartbeat had begun to feel numb.

You never thought you’d have to experience this in your lifetime. Kento was a strong sorcerer and he was physically gifted in combat. You couldn’t ask for the details, afraid that your imagination would run wild with the details.

The front door clicked open and shut, indicating that your mom and son were home.

“Y/N? Where are you dear?” Your mother called out.

“Mommyyyyyy!” Yu yelled.

Hearing the tiny footsteps, Yu knew exactly where to find you; in your room. Pushing open the door, Yu sees your form on the bed and his eyebrows upturned — he could feel something was wrong when you didn’t greet him like you normally do.

“Mommy?” He called out, nearing your bed before using the stepping stool you and Kento left on the side of the bed so that when Yu needed the two of you, he could climb into bed himself and cuddle in between the two of you. He felt safest in between you and his father.

“Mommy what’s wrong?” Yu asked as he climbed your bed and crawled his way over to you.

“Yu? Did you find mommy?” Your mother asked as she entered your room, stopping as she sees your still form on the bed. Yu looked at his grandmother, worry expressed on his face.

“Gram? What’s wrong with mommy?” He asked.

As your mother neared you, she shook her head. “I’m not too sure sweetie, why don’t you go to your room so I can talk to your mommy?”

Yu shook his head and held onto you. It was pitiful, you couldn’t even register your own son’s arms. You didn’t feel even an ounce of happiness that your son was home.

“Yu,” your mother spoke in a gentle tone “I need you to please let me talk to mommy. It might not be something you’re meant to hear.”

Yu gazed at his grandmother before looking at your expressionless face, your eyes red, hugging his father’s pillow before looking back at his grandmother, nodding with a solemn expression before safely sliding off of the bed. He walked to the door before turning to look back at you.

“I love you mommy…” he spoke before leaving entirely, heading to his room as instructed.

As soon as the door was mostly shut in Yu’s room, your mother looked at you. Sitting on the edge of your bed, she placed her hand on your arm, trying her best to be gentle with you.

“Hon? What happened.” Your mother asked.

You felt your tears sting your eyes. Biting your lower lip, you try your best to contain your tears before covering your face with the pillow.

“Kento’s dead, mom.” Your voice squeaked, hoarse as you spoke. And that was it, your tears fell again as you began to sob into the pillow, attempting to muffle the sound as to not alarm Yu, who you were sure was listening in his room.

Your mother felt her heart break, seeing you like this. She knew the risk of being a Jujutsu sorcerer, but she also knew Kento was particular when it came to the missions. She for sure believed that he would stay alive, but fate is inevitable.

“Honey…” rubbing your arm, she felt your body shaking as you attempted to hold back your tears. “You can go ahead and cry, don’t hold them back. You know it upsets your stomach.”

You snapped and looked at your mom, brows furrowed.

“I don’t care about my stomach ma! My husband is dead! My partner, the love of my life, Yu’s father!” You yelled.

Your mother’s brows knitted together. “Please keep your voice down honey, you don’t want Yu to hear you.”

Your brows upturned. She was right, you didn’t want Yu to know, not just yet while you were still figuring out how to tell him.

“Daddy’s dead?” A soft voice echoed in the room.

You and your mother’s heads turned towards the doorway to see your son in his pajamas, his tiny hands clutching his shirt, his eyes wide.

Shit.

Your mother sighed and stood, making her way to Yu, before crouching down to his eye level.

“I want to tell him.” Your voice a hoarse whisper.

Your mother looked at you as you stared at the wall in front of you. You looked tired, exhausted even. It was to be expected, losing your significant other was one of the hardest things to go through.

Standing, she patted the top of Yu’s head before leaving the room, giving the two of you privacy.

“Mommy?” Yu asked. He knew you were sad and he could see it in your eyes. You looked at him and gave him a pained smile.

“Come here, baby. Let me hold you.” You asked, holding your arms out for him.

Yu immediately ran to the stepping stool, lifting himself on the bed and into your arms. Wrapping your arms around him, you looked into his eyes, the same eyes that resembled Nanami’s with your hair color.

You remembered when you were pregnant with him, Kento had quit working at his job because he was tired of exploiting others for the sake of money, and you wholeheartedly agreed with his decision. He had become a Jujutsu sorcerer once again.

You inhaled then exhaled. Looking into the eyes of your son once more, you raised your hand to gently set it on his cheek, rubbing it.

“I’m afraid that —“ you paused to control your tears, but your voice betrayed you as you continued. “Daddy’s not coming home.”

Yu tilted his head. “When is daddy coming home?”

Your breath hitches, doing your absolute best to control your emotions for your son. You never thought you would have to say this.

“He…he won’t be coming home, baby. There were complications in daddy’s mission and he…he passed away, sweetie.”

Yu stared at you as if he was trying to gauge your emotions to better attune himself to it. Eventually, the tears welled up in his eyes.

“Mommy?” Yu cried. If you could feel anything, you could feel what was the rest of your broken heart shatter. And the fact that you don’t feel anything when looking at your crying son makes you feel horrible. But you were broken and didn’t have it in you.

As the arms around your son tightened slightly to reassure him that you were there. But were you really? The two of you were grieving for the loss of Kento, your husband and Yu’s father.

You couldn’t even feel your son in your arms, the numbing feeling taking over you, the poison coursing through your veins, numbing your body but not enough to no longer feel the pricks to remind you of the poison, the grief you were feeling.

“-ey? Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped up to look at your mom, who was standing beside your bed, staring at you, her expression full of concern.

“Honey, I can stay with you, help you take care of Yu.”

You shook your head.

“I just…I just want to be left alone.” You answered, your voice had gone from a choke from holding back your tears to a low monotone devoid of emotion.

“I can take Yu and he can stay with me while you grieve.” She offered.

Yu immediately pulled away and shook his head.

“No! I wanna stay with mommy! I don’t wanna go!” He yelled as he cried harder, as if he was throwing a tantrum, which in this case would count as a tantrum.

Your mom reached her arms out and went to gently take Yu from your arms as they loosened your hold on him. As soon as your mom touched Yu, he screamed and grabbed onto your shirt.

“No! Mommy!” He screamed, holding onto you as he screamed and cried.

You continued to sit there as your son was clutching onto you for dear life, begging you to keep him safe but you didn’t have the energy to do so.

Yu continued to clutch onto you while your mother tried to pick him up. Every gentle pull resulted in him screaming and eventually your mother gave up, leaving him to cry on your chest. Sighing, your mother looked at you.

“I’ll come back tomorrow to take Yu to preschool, ok?”

“I don’t wanna go!” Yu screamed. He wanted nothing more than to be with you, his safe haven. But could you provide your son with that safety?

I hope this turned out well! I’ve been stewing on this for a few days while I’ve been trying to think of how to write the Lucifer story.

I planned on making this a series, so please let me know if you’d like to see more!

Jujutsu Kaisen belongs to Gege Akutami

©️nerdiel-has-no-braincells Please do not copy, translate, and post as your own. Reblogs, likes, and comments are ok with me!

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Don't you love it when you realize your sibling is not the person you thought they were -Danny Words: 2,218 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Orange Juice' -by Noah Kahan

XI: Would I Stab My Brother for a Million Dollars? I Would Stab Him for Free

Ara wants to rip Percy's head off.

She'd been looking for him and Annabeth for a whole hour thinking they'd been kidnapped, only to find out they'd fallen asleep in the stables like some star-crossed lovers.

It shouldn't be a big deal, but she hadn't eaten yet, therefore she was pissed. Leo, on the other hand, was cracking up. Now he can't hide his sly smirk when he locks eyes with Ara, pleased that they're sneakier than Annabeth and Percy.

Hazel gets scandalized to an extent that feels exaggerated, but Ara remembers she's only been in the modern world for about eight months, so she decides not to tease her.

"Never in my life!" Coach Hedge hits all he can reach with his bat. "Against the rules! Irresponsible!"

"Coach, it was an accident. We were talking, and we fell asleep."

"Besides, you're starting to sound like Terminus," Percy adds jokingly.

"Is that an insult, Jackson? 'Cause I'll—I'll terminus you, buddy!"

Percy glances at Ara and presses his lips together to avoid laughing. "It won't happen again, Coach. I promise. Now, don't we have other things to discuss?" 

"Fine! But I'm watching you, Jackson. And you, Annabeth Chase, I thought you had more sense—" 

"So grab some food, everybody!" Jason intervenes. "Let's get started."

"You guys are losers," Ara teases her friends as she sits down beside them. "You should've set an alarm to wake up at dawn."

"How was I—wait," Percy kicks her foot lightly. "You've done that before?"

Ara eats a mouthful of her waffles and winks at him. Percy looks at Annabeth with a horrified expression, and the girl sighs. "Just let it go, seaweed brain..."

The boy glares at Leo—seated far from his reach—and scoffs. "Fine."

The next hour ends up being worse than the prior one. Percy tells them about the dream he had, the giant twins are indeed guarding Nico in the bronze jar. He tells them he's still alive thanks to some pomegranate seeds. Hazel sinks on her chair, sick with worry, and Percy tries to ease her.

"We'll rescue him. We have to."

Hazel turns to Ara. "So you weren't wrong... any ideas?"

Leo raises his hand. "Uh... One thing. The giants are expecting us to do this, so we're walking into a trap, right?"

"We have no choice!" Hazel exclaims.

"Don't get me wrong, Hazel. It's just that your brother, Nico... he knew about both camps, right?"

"Well, yes."

"He's been going back and forth, and he didn't tell either side..."

"You're wondering if we can trust the guy," Jason says. "So am I."

Hazel jumps to her feet. "I don't believe this. He's my brother. He brought me back from the Underworld, and you don't want to help him?"

"Nobody's saying that." Frank scowls at Leo. "Nobody had better be saying that."

"No one's gonna throw threats at the people on this table either," Ara scowls. Frank looks at her defiantly, but he stays quiet. "Jason and Leo don't know Nico, their concern is as valid as your worry, Hazel."

"I remember Nico from Camp Jupiter," Jason continues. "Then I find out he also visited Camp Half-Blood—and he doesn't have a good relationship with Ara, the leader of that place. That does strike me as... well, a little shady. Do we really know where his loyalties lie? We just have to be careful."

That is partially true, Ara thinks. Nico doesn't have a good relationship with her, but that has nothing to do with her position. Nico betrayed her brother and tried to play her for a fool, that's a sore spot she's never been able to heal and she's never trusted him fully ever since, but she knows he wouldn't stab them in the back like that.

Despite what everyone back home thinks, she still looks after Nico. Ara was ten years old when her life changed for the better, but Nico's changed for the worse. She feels that she ought to protect him given that she got the better deal out of the two.

Ara tries to de-escalate the argument happening before her. "Listen—" A plate flies across the table and hits the wall, barely missing Jason's head. "Hazel!" She reprimands.

"You..." Hazel only has eyes for Jason, she's fuming, "the great Jason Grace... the praetor I looked up to. You were supposed to be so fair, such a good leader. And now you..." 

The girl pushes her chair back and storms out of the room. Every metal around her vibrates as she passes by, but nothing else goes out flying. Ara looks at Jason with a scowl.

"You're always saying the wrong things."

He gets even more upset. "But you agreed!"

"He's not working for Gaea," she states. "Nico's never been interested in what she's got to offer."

After we leave Quintus—Daedalus—fighting for his life in the workshop, we head to town and split into two groups. I'm going with Annabeth and Nico.

While Annabeth's paying for the gizmo she bought for an Iris message, Nico approaches me. He's grumpy, but his attitude is less hostile than at other times. "You saved me." 

I cut the chains around his hands and ankles back in the workshop (so he would help us), and killed a giant before it could step on his head (so he didn't die before he could help us).

"You saved all of us," I bow with amusement. "Ghost King, sir."

He makes a face. "You're not funny."

I chuckle and stand straight. "Alright. So... Minos betrayed you, Luke knows you exist now—"

"I'll go with you," he crosses his arms and pouts like a kid—he's eleven, after all. "Just this one time."

I have the theory that the more he uses his power, the more he ages, 'cause now he's as tall as me. I would hug him because I feel like doing so, but at the same time, I'm angry at him for scaring us by leaving camp.

"That'll make Lily happy," I notice the cut on his cheek, so I seize my T-Rex and offer him wipes and a bandaid. "Fix your face."

He grabs the items hastily like he's scared to get burned if his skin touches mine. That makes me realize that all this time, he's always going out of his way so I don't accidentally touch him. He knows about my empath touch, and he doesn't want me to know what he's feeling.

"Do you need help?" I eye him with curiosity.

"No," he turns his back on me.

"Ah, jeez," Leo pushes his chair away from the table. "We should—"

"You've done enough," Frank snaps at him, but Piper stops him.

"Give her time," she turns to Jason, Leo, and Ara. "You guys, that was pretty cold."

"Cold? I'm just being cautious!" Jason argues.

"Her brother is dying," Piper insists.

Ara sighs heavily. "Nico is part of a prophecy that needs to be treated with care, if we make the wrong move, we'll end up killing him anyway."

"I'll go talk to her," Frank tries to leave again.

"No," Piper pulls him back. "Let her cool down first. Trust me on this. I'll go check on her in a few minutes."

"Here's what we're gonna do," Ara claps once to get everyone's attention. "We'll leave Hazel alone, and later you two will apologize for being mean—"

"You were mean too—"

"I was arbitrary, there's a difference." Ara turns to her right, where Lily used to stand during meetings. She freezes, realizing no one on this ship keeps a to-do list for her. "We uh..."

Their dragon speaks, saving her the embarrassment of having to remember what she was meant to say. 

"That's Festus," Leo announces. "I've got him on autopilot, but we must be nearing Atlanta. I'll have to get up there... uh, assuming we know where to land."

"Right!" Ara remembers what they had planned for the day. "The sea god!"

Everyone looks at Percy, and Jason vaguely points at him. "You're Captain Salt Water. Any ideas from the expert?"

"I'm not sure. Somewhere central, high up so we can get a good view of the city. Maybe a park with some woods? We don't want to land a warship in the middle of downtown. I doubt even the Mist could cover up something that huge."

"On it," Leo replies before leaving.

"When we land, I'll scout around in Atlanta," Percy continues. "Frank, I could use your help."

"You mean turn into a dragon again?" Frank grimaces. "Honestly, Percy, I don't want to spend the whole quest being everyone's flying taxi."

"No. I want you with me because you've got the blood of Poseidon. Maybe you can help me figure out where to find salt water. Besides, you're good in a fight."

"Sure," Frank sighs. "I guess."

"Great. We should take one more. Annabeth—"

"Oh, no!" Hedge barks. "Young lady, you are grounded."

"Excuse me?" Annabeth makes a face.

"You and Jackson are not going anywhere together! I'll go with Frank and Mr. Sneaky Jackson. The rest of you guard the ship and make sure Annabeth doesn't break any more rules!"

"Ara comes with us too," Percy adds quickly. "Aphrodite has a connection to the sea as well, and my sister has her blessing, maybe that'll help."

Ara wants to say "No thanks!" but her brother is staring at her and she can practically hear his thoughts. If I'm being punished for spending the night with my partner, then so are you.

"Fine," she gives in. "Let me get my T-Rex."

After the nicest lady on earth drops them off at the town's Aquarium, Ara opens her dino bag and pulls out her cloak from it. Percy scowls at it. "You have to take that everywhere?"

"I'm doing what you asked me to," she replies casually.

Percy spots the embroidery at the back and leans a little to see it better. "Those are all the blessings you've gotten?"

"Yeah. Anyway, are we going in like everyone else, or..."

None of them brought money for this, so Ara's already thinking of a way to sneak into the building when a young girl approaches them with a big smile. "Ah, VIP visitors!" 

Ara almost draws out her sword, but that might be the nerves from last night's encounter with the Eidolons. She doesn't appreciate strangers standing this close to her.

"You have your payment, I see—Excellent!"

"What?"

The girl snatches the few coins Frank pulled out of his pocket and turns on her heel. "Yes, that's fine. Right this way!"

Percy nudges Ara's arm. "A trap?"

"Probably," Frank says as she nods silently.

"She's not mortal," Hedge agrees. "Probably some sort of goat-eating, demigod-destroying fiend from Tartarus."

"No doubt," Percy sighs.

"Awesome." The satyr chuckles. "Let's go."

Ara makes sure Almighty's in her pocket, and while the other girl guides them through the Aquarium, Ara elbows Percy's arm. "Do you know what Hazel and Frank's deal is with Leo?"

The face he makes is answer enough, but he replies out loud too. "Sorta."

"Should I be worried?"

The boy lowers his voice, making sure Frank doesn't hear them. "I don't know. Maybe."

Ara frowns. "Leo didn't do anything, Percy. This has to be a misunderstanding."

"Something tells me it isn't," her brother replies in a way that irritates her.

"So Leo is still the bad guy, is that it?"

"Are you being serious right now?" Percy looks at her with annoyance. "Ara, you don't understand—"

"I understand that you don't trust me," she presses, her attitude abruptly switching from casual to stern.

"It's not my story to tell," he frowns. "And it isn't any of your business either, General. This is between Hazel and Leo. Not an army matter."

Percy's starting to realize just how much Ara has changed in the few months they were apart, and he can see why Lily snapped after all those years of being Ara's most loyal partner. Something is deeply wrong with his sister, and he's afraid they might not figure out what it is before it's too late.

I know Calypso's myth, but for some reason, I never imagined that she'd still be around.

"Annabeth kissed you." 

It's the first thing that comes out of my mouth. I can't help it, the scarlet explosion has been stuck in my mind for days. Now that he's back from Ogygia, I have to bring it up.

Percy blushes. "Yeah, I remember."

"Calypso kissed you?"

"Ara!"

"Okay, don't answer that," I change the subject. "You're going to ask Rachel to join us now?"

"Yes."

"Do you like her?

"Ara," he glares at me.

"Percy."

"It's not like that." 

"Maybe not, but I'm curious," I stick out my tongue.

"I don't like Rachel," he replies, and I believe him because he doesn't light up when he thinks of her.

"But you like Annie," I grin. "I know."

"You're a nightmare," he groans.

"Jeez, looks like you're the real charmer of the family," I tease him.

"One day you'll crush on someone," he mumbles. "Then I'll laugh."

I take a moment to stop giggling, then ask the one thing I truly want to know. "Were you... Happy... in Ogygia?"

He tenses. "That place is meant to feel like a home..."

"Yeah, I guess. And you had no one to talk, except Calypso," I pout. "Imagine being alone for thousands of years, constantly getting your heart broken. I wonder if she still feels at home there."

"I don't know..." Percy shakes his head. His skin dimly lits in its scarlet glow. "But she asked me not to forget her. I don't think I can."

He's not the kid I befriended three summers ago, the boy who saw me as an equal when we were both clumsy and lonely. Now Percy's a young man, and I'm still a little girl.

A wall has been lifted between us, and it's not the kind that I can climb over.

Next Chapter –>

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[smallnico]

3 and 4 for durge asks part two pretty please!

under the cut for uhhhhhh durge! (and more specifically consent issues and abuse but not sa)

3. Bhaal can control his chosen and force the Slayer or actions upon them; did he ever force your Durge to do something against their will or would they obediently follow?

oh, definitely. esper is terribly obedient to bhaal after they join the cult, but bhaal's favourite way to communicate with esper is by fucking with their body in the usual durge ways -- making their stomach twist, making their brain chemicals jump around with anger and arousal, making their muscles twitch, and of course the lingering memories of full durge blackouts from before esper joined the temple, as well as the fact that bhaal can just will them to die after they reject him -- so the threat is always there, and the fact that bhaal can control their emotions means that esper's free will to obey itself comes into question. bhaal promises that if esper obeys, he won't have to puppet them around and the urge won't consume their mind (the one thing they have, since their body isn't their own), but at that point, what choice is there but enthusiastic obedience and the delusion of will?

the slayer transformation itself was never forced upon esper the way it was forced upon orin, but esper made a point of getting so good with their swords and psychic bard powers that they wouldn't have to use it. they would never say it aloud, only repeating that it was a holy gift and they are honoured to accept it, but they found it revolting and terrifying. being the slayer in that moment felt like a sneak peek into bad end durge for esper, and they had no intention of using it if they could possibly avoid it, so they did what they'd always done -- overperform as a high-skill assassin to perfection so they would be praised instead of punished.

4. Durge has an inherent skill for anything medicine; what was their greatest skill? Sewing, caring for wounds, brewing potions or concocting poisons?

esper has both an innate and well-honed sense for the things that kill people and the different ways it can happen. that means they also generally know what's wrong with the body when they see something wrong. their ability to fix what's wrong is pretty rudimentary and brutal, but effective. i like to exemplify this with the fact that esper's main party in-game consists of themself, astarion, karlach, and lae'zel, making them both the glass cannon and primary healer of the lot -- that said, the only healing spells they know are healing word and lesser restoration, so i would say the healing they specialize in is "yeah, that'll do".

binding and closing wounds is something they have a lot of experience with, though. since esper hated relying on others growing up and well into adulthood, they usually patched their wounds up themself. they've definitely dislocated their shoulder and reset it themself before. whether they're any good at it is a question with a subjective answer, because look at them, but it deserves to be said again that their healing philosophy is utilitarian. they don't care what it looks like as long as it works.

and, of course, they grew up in a noble house in the underdark, including work as a poison taster. they know a lot about poisons. they don't use them, though. they think poison is a bit chickenshit and ineffective compared to other methods.

[kalevalakryze]

Prompt 2: Knighting “May the force be with you, Knight Krudo,” The chamber filled with differently timed utterances of the phrase as Mace guided her to the doors, knowing all too well that she wanted to jump around with joy, but the presence of all of the council members was a tough crowd, and the need to be professional had outweighed the joy.

asdfghjkl look I know I'm late, but I couldn't keep passing up the Free Real Estate in getting her out there, and now my brain is swirling with the need to make content for her. For anyone looking for more information about my pride and joy: https://www.tumblr.com/kalevalakryze/721070750533058562/keshiri-jedi-oc-you-say-please-tell-me?source=share

Herdessa was the longest trip from Coruscant that Master Windu had sent his padawan on sending her out into the mid rim on her own, with nothing but her sabers and the promise that the force would guide her during her Trials. The darkness in Coruscant had been looming, and The Force had been silent, only the buzzing of his skin and the danger his basest instinct tried to warn him about.

Chessaf're'krudo returned to the Jedi Temple with warning in her eyes, and with her, came the Shatterpoint, there was more to the happenings on the planet than the Republic knew, but with Chess’s information, the council was able to piece together much more than they would have if they’d sent a diplomat. Her reports showed evidence of a droid presence on the planet, droids that weren’t outfitted for standard duties a domestic civilization would require, but from her reports on the droids and their harassment of locals, and the crude drawing she’d put into her datapad, they were all outfitted to fight.

His padawan had also helped the citizens being harassed, had helped them barricade homes, and had even provided evacuation transports for those who could also feel the danger. In recognition of both her service to the Republic, and her service to the people who’d required her help, the council would be granting her Knighthood.

Depa Billaba found Mace Windu’s padawan in the gardens, long before the sun would rise to mark her last day of being a Padawan. The Keshiri was moving through each lightsaber form silently, moving meditation, the newer generation was dubbing it, ever since Anakin Skywalker and his restless energy seemed to grasp them all (or maybe it was the impending doom, no one could tell anymore).

“Nervous?” Depa called, her shoulder leaning against a marble column that held a clay pot of flowers at its highest point. The Jedi surrounded by the closed bulbs of flowers did not startle, had felt Depa’s approach through their bond in the force, and had felt the eyes on her since she started Form Three.

“About today, or when I get to Form Seven?” Chess replied easily as gravity pulled the purple blades of her sabers down, wrists shifting to roll them before raising them back, starting her transition into Form Six.

“Trying Seven again? You want to slice off your nose before your ceremony?” The Jedi Master questioned, joining the Padawan in the cobbled square finally. With a snap and a hiss, the emerald of her saber burst to life, complimenting the twin purple blades held in uncertain hands. The Master joined the Padawan in the forms, focusing more on the apprentice than the movements. “You’re overthinking,” She pointed out as they neared the end.

“I know,” Chess groaned, letting her sabers deactivate before she even started to transition into the Seventh form. Vapaad wasn’t just a dangerous way of fighting, it was a mindset, one that she was very rarely ever able to slip into with how the force interpreted itself for her. The young woman moved then to drop herself into one of the benches on the edge of the courtyard.

Depa let out a soft hum as her own saber deactivated, clipping it onto her belt and settling herself into the seat beside the Padawan, who was holding both of her lightsaber hilts in her open palms. A purple alloy was hammered into the emitters, a mineral they didn’t know the name of, but had been gathered by a traveler who had visited Kesh once, and no longer had a use for the metal ore after his partners passing, and had gifted it to the Korunn Jedi when Mace had helped his home. The trinket was then passed down to his second Padawan, who’d been more than excited to carry a piece of her home with her.

“This isn’t about Vapaad,” Depa pointed out, her hand moving to rest on Chess’s exposed shoulder, the arms ripped from her robes for whatever reason that had these generations wearing less and less clothes. The Keshiri shifted to press into the hand on her shoulder, though she hung her head so violet hair crowned her face.

“No, I just,” A small sound of frustration, a slow and measured inhale, and then, with a more level voice, she turned her head to look at the Chalactan Jedi. “You feel it too, right? The Force, it isn’t…” A pause, as the younger woman looked to her trembling hands. The force typically filled her with the buzzing energy of light, but the looming presence hadn’t escaped her either. The trembling in her hands didn’t feel like the tremor of the force, buzzing in the anticipation to flow through her, but for once, like the buzzing of anxiety, the constant whispers that something was so, so wrong.

Depa’s head dipped in acknowledgement of the young Jedi’s question. “We all have,” She assured, letting her hand lower, until she could close her hand around the other woman’s hand, around the cold metal of the shoto saber’s hilt. “The Force has been offering warnings in the smallest of frequencies, with no answer of what we may or may not be facing next,”

Depa was cut off by Mace’s voice as he entered the clearing, and while his face had remained impassive, Depa had taught Chess just enough to notice endearment in his own special body language. “Whatever comes next, we have to believe that The Force will guide us along these trials, just like it helped you with your own mission,” He’d lowered himself to Chess’s other side, and the young Jedi let out a breath, allowing her back to slide back against the hard backing of the bench.

“What if I’m not ready? For what the force has in store for us next? If I… mess it all up?” The doubt in her tone was familiar, one held by many of the temple’s Padawan’s and younglings, though the thought process was a dangerous endeavor if any stock was put to the thoughts.

“Chess,” Depa started, letting Chess’s hand go, so the Keshiri could clip her sabers back to her belt as she took a reprieve to sulk. “The Force did not guide you to this moment if there was a chance you weren’t ready. I have, We have seen you navigate every trial and tribulation with the exact grace Master Windu has taught you. The Herdessa complication would have never been known if the will of the force hadn’t brought you there when it did,” She explained, letting her arm drape across the girls’ shoulders as she tried to assure her with comfort of her achievements.

Mace’s arm shifted as well, laying against the back of the bench as he mirrored Depa’s body language. “You got yourself to this point, it was how you followed your path, and recognized your teachings that have brought you to this point, to doubt in yourself is to doubt in The Force. And, I don’t believe this is necessarily about your readiness, but something else,” Her Master prodded, an eyebrow risen as he crossed his legs at the knee.

“Not, not entirely.” Chess shifted back, her head nearly pillowed by the two Jedi Master’s arms as she turned her gaze to the sky. Light pollution from the city world had made it near impossible to see the vast space that they beyond, red eyes focused in the direction she’d learned her home planet to be. “I don’t want to be alone,” She finally admitted, refusing to look at either of the Jedi who’d taken a part in training her.

Every mission, Chess always knew where she was going to be, knew that she would return to the Jedi Temple, because the Force assured her, but out there, in the mid-rim on Herdessa, alone… The Force offered no comfort, no promise of another Jedi. She’d faced many visions on the planet, visions of the future, both for the inhabitants of the sector, and… all over.

“You feel the force around you, correct?” Mace started, one of his hands extending to a flower bed, raising a brown dead leaf from the ground and willing it to float in front of the trio. “When we die, we become one with the force. So long as there is The Force, we will be there. Across each rim, even through the vastness of the Unknown Regions, The Force will be there.” He explained carefully, until the leaf dropped into his opened palm.

“A Jedi is never truly alone, there are so many of us, helping to keep Light in The Force, even in the darkest of times,” Depa confirmed, letting her own gaze rise to the sky. Mace had saved her in her darkest time as a child too, and had helped her understand the same thing with her parents. “No one is ever truly gone,”

The silence hung for quite some time, the three Jedi sitting together and watching the night traffic inch through skylanes. It was quite peaceful, until a snore from the Padawan indicated she had drifted to sleep probably the moment the silence settled. Depa had laughed, as quietly as she could under the protection of her own hand, as she watched the young padawan practically curl into Mace’s side.

“Hope she doesn’t sleep past her ceremony,” Mace remarked, before shifting slowly so he could lift his Padawan into his arms. “Goodnight, Master Billaba. We hope to see you at the ceremony today,” He excused, only the corners of his lips twitching at the roll of Depa’s eyes as she stood and brushed her robes off.

“I am unsure if I will be able to attend, Master Windu. My position within the council demands that I oversee a Padawan ceremony at that exact time,” She replied in turn, before bidding goodbye and heading back to her quarters, stopping in to check on her own Padwan, who slept peacefully though the night with promises of his own saber training.  

Mace had settled Chess into her room in their shared quarters, setting her sabers on the stand, and making his way to the central common space of the Master and Padawan apartment, that he would soon be packing away to return to his old quarters. The Korunn did not find sleep as easily as his Padwan, thinking instead of the looming Darkness she had mentioned, trying to find the Shatterpoints he knew would expose themselves.

▬▬ι═══════>

Chess had made it to the Council’s chambers early, settling herself outside the closed doors, letting her back press into the cool material of the walls. She was vibrating with nervous energy and anticipation, until she caught wind of Master Windu and Master Billaba’s troubled presences. She couldn’t figure out what would have them worried, but as their meeting drew to a close and the two masters evened out, she also allowed her own thoughts to mellow once more.

A temple guard had held the door open for her, bowing her head as she stepped into the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her as she faced Grandmaster Yoda. “Passed your trials, you have,” She let herself believe there was pride in his gravelly voice, feeling his presence (so large for such a small being) dance with a contained joy.

“Believe Chessaf’re’krudo is not ready, does anyone?” He addressed the council as a whole, and while she didn’t look away from Yoda, she found her ears perking, listening for someone to demand she wasn’t ready. Mace stood from his seat then, his hand on her shoulder as he stepped to her side.

“She is more than ready, Master Yoda. During her Padawanship, Chessaf’re’krudo has expressed quality traits from her training, and has followed both the Jedi Code, and my own teachings to a degree that allowed to her successfully aid in making the Galaxy a better place. I have full faith in her ability to continue without my mentorship,” He vouched for her, and when she looked up at him, he offered a squeeze of his hand on her shoulder.

“wait no longer, she must. In disagreement, no one is?” His large eyes looked to all the master’s in the room, only Ki Adi Mundi’s chair was filled with the holoprojection of the master, and even he shook his head. None of them were stepping forward to call her ability to be a Knight. “Master Windu, proceed, you may,”

Chess forced herself to stay stock still as a purple lightsaber ignited inches away from her head, it wasn’t distrust that kept her in place, but the thought that the braid, woven into her hair all those years ago would finally be removed, would mark her no longer as a Jedi Padawan, but a fellow Knight. The hair was cut with a calm precision, the blade quickly dispersing back into its’ crystal as he grabbed the braid before it could fall to the ground.

“It is an honor to have trained you, Knight Krudo,” Mace was clipping his saber on his belt, letting Chess turn to face him as she received her new title. The braid was passed between them, purple and green beads settling against her hand as she closed her fist around it.

“I won’t disappoint, Master Windu,” Her eyes looked around then, to all the Jedi gathered. “Thank you,”

“May the force be with you, Knight Krudo,” The chamber filled with differently timed utterances of the phrase as Mace guided her to the doors, knowing all too well that she wanted to jump around with joy, but the presence of all of the council members was a tough crowd, and the need to be professional had outweighed the joy.

The second the two, no longer master and apprentice, but Master and Knight, stepped out of the threshold, and the doors had slid shut, Chess had all but thrown herself into his arms, her own wrapping tight around his midsection as his own moved to encircle his shoulders. “Thank you, Master, for getting me here,”

“It is your dedication to be a conduit to the force that had brought you here, but I am proud, nonetheless,” He spoke only when they’d let go.

Feet running had broken the moment, and then, Caleb Dume was throwing himself into Chess’s arms, laughter rising from the two, no, from the Padawan and the Knight as Depa’s boy started to badger Chess with compliments and questions.

When Depa stepped out into the hall, she’d raised an eyebrow at the scene, though her own lips mirrored a smile as she stepped up to Mace. “We will be prepared for what comes next,” She assured, watching Chess recount the ceremony to an awestruck Caleb.

Exactly seven rotations later, Jedi were loaded onto transport ships with white armored troopers, and dropped into a warzone. Out of two hundred and twelve Jedi, barely thirty-five made it back alive, with the newly minted Knight Krudo in critical condition, The Clone Wars had begun, bathing the galaxy in a darkness many had never seen before, and did not know how to navigate.

[dashboarddiaries]

Dashboard Diaries is a production of Atypical Artists, hosted by Lauren Shippen (@thelaurenshippen) and Cher McAnelly (@overchers). Our theme was composed by Lauren Shippen and mixed by Brandon Grugle. Art by Shae McMullin. Transcription by Laudable.

For bonus clips, ad-free episodes, and more, become a patron at atypicalartists.co/support.

Lauren: Hello, Dashers! Lauren Shippen here with a quick little comment about this episode before we jump into it. My computer had a complete and total meltdown in the course of recording ... or attempting to record ... this episode. I eventually got things working again but there will be times in this episode where my audio sounds truly terrible. I’m really sorry about that. But it shouldn’t affect the wonderful experience of listening to Gretchen McCulloch talk about Tumblr linguistics. It’s a really, really fun episode. A great interview with Gretchen. So, I hope you guys enjoy ... and sorry for the technical difficulties.

[intro music]

Lauren: Hello, Enthusiasts! I’m Lauren Shippen, professional writer, who absolutely has brought Tumblr-speak into her real spoken life. 

Cher: And I’m Cher McAnelly, Head of Entertainment at Tumblr. And student at Tumblr University.

Lauren: And this is Dashboard Diaries, a podcast for you – the folks who are in this internet bunker with us. We talk about what’s going on in our favorite hell site, get into what we like to call “tumbl-lore,” do fandom deep dives, and share the times when we’ve gone feral over a new ship.

And we have a really, really fun guest for you all later. But first, let’s do some Dashboard Confessionals. 

[guitar riff]

Cher, what do you have from the archives for us this month?

Cher: So, I have two posts, both of which I feel very much tie in with the topic of the episode today. So, I couldn’t decide between the two. Both of which I re-blogged in July 2015. So, the first one is from user:  officalcrow. It’s a text post that says “To my doctor after getting laser eye surgery: So, how do I shoot them?” 

Lauren: (laughs) That’s very good. 

Cher: The next one is very, very relevant I think to this episode. It is a screenshot of a YouTube video that says, “New computer terms:” and then it lists out “Avatar #trolling and meme.” And it’s from user: literallysame. Which I think, yeah, ties in really well with the focus of our episode today. What do you have for us today, Lauren?

Lauren: So, I have a post from, let’s see, 2014 from user: digitaltits. The post is a little bit like ... the one that I’m going to re-blog  the post formatting is a little bit messed up because it’s such an old post and the original poster has since deleted the post I think. So, anyway ... but it says, “Mood. *white kid from ‘90s TV show on bed throwing baseball up in the air and catching it while staring at the ceiling*” And that’s just such a specific mood. And I know exactly what this user is talking about. And I totally feel that mood often. 

Cher: As do I. It really captures the essence of the moment. (laughs)

Lauren: It really does. It’s amazing what language can do.

Cher: We love language!

[game show trill]

Lauren: So, this month we have a very, very special guest with us. We have Gretchen McColloch who is the host of the Lingthusiasm Podcast and Internet Linguist, and author of, “Because Internet.” Which I think has to be my favorite book about the internet that I’ve ever read. Thank you so much for joining us, Gretchen!

Gretchen: Thank you so much for having me!

Lauren: What is an internet linguist and how on earth did you get into that as a profession?

Gretchen: So, I spend a lot of time on the internet. (laughs) And also I think like many linguists I can’t really turn that linguist part of my brain off. So, if I am at a party or just talking to someone I’m always sort of analyzing bits about how they talk. And by the end of this podcast I’m going to have a whole report for you. 

Lauren: Oh no! 

(laughter) 

Gretchen: Nothing but good things, I promise. So, spending a lot of time online also means that I wanted to know more about how people were using language online. I also think of myself as an internet linguist as in a linguist FOR internet people. Because I started my blog, which is called All Things Linguistic on Tumblr back in 2012, during the first era of when Tumblr was cool. And I started it when I was in grad school for linguistics and I was feeling myself sort of inching further and further out of that ivory tower and also feeling like I wanted to retain that sense of connection that I’d felt with linguistics when I was discovering it as a high school student and reading pop linguistic books and feeling like this really had this very direct applicability to my everyday life.

So, doing pop linguistics or linguistics communication or internet linguistics is also a way for me of retaining that connection and being a linguist FOR the people of the internet or OF the people of the internet in addition to doing it on the language that’s found online.

Lauren: I love that. So, you started this blog on Tumblr. Was that the first time you sort of got on Tumblr was to make that blog? Or did you have some familiarity with the platform previously?

Gretchen: (laughs) You know what? No one has ever asked me that question and it’s such a good question! 

Lauren: Oh my gosh! 

Gretchen: It was NOT my first time on Tumblr. (laughs)

Cher: Ooh! What brought you to Tumblr?

Gretchen: So, do you remember the era of ... there was the “what should we call me” Tumblr era where it was ... a lot of it was very student-y. You know? “When I’m late for class ...” and then there’d be a gif. And then there would be all these sort of extra single serving Tumblrs that I think of like single topic Tumblrs that would be about a specific thing. And then there were all these different versions of those. And there were all of these advice animal Tumblrs that would be like a specific domain. 

So, the first Tumblr that I was involved with was some other linguistics undergraduate students and I collaborated ... Philosoraptor was probably the best known but there was like Philosophy this and History major that or whatever. And so we decided that the mascot for linguistics needed to be the Lingcod.

Lauren: Oh my god! I remember this blog!

Gretchen: Wait!? You saw the Linguistics Lingcod back in the day? That was us! 

Lauren: That’s amazing. 

Cher: Oh my god.

Lauren: Oh my COD.

Gretchen: Oh my cod! Exactly. So, we found this truly horrendous picture of a fish. This is not a pretty fish. It’s got these big teeth and it’s got this sort of open jaw. (laughs) We found this truly horrendous picture of a lingcod. And we made some captions for it and we made this single serving Tumblr. I bet Linguistics Lingcod is probably still there. Someone has probably forgotten the login. I don’t know if I actually ...

Cher: I can get you back in.

Gretchen: (laughter)

Cher: I have that power. 

Gretchen: Oh my god! (laughs) There were other linguist advice animal memes that were more popular than us. 

Lauren: Oh my god. Really?

Gretchen: Yeah, yeah, oh yeah. We were a bunch of Canadian undergrad students. And so Linguist Lioness was also around for a little bit. But the really popular was one Linguistics Llama. 

Cher: Oh my gosh.

Lauren: I do remember Linguistics Llama, too, actually. YES. 

Gretchen: Linguistics Llama. We’ve been in the same [inaudible 00:07:18] of the internet for a long time, Lauren. I just have that feeling.

Lauren: Obviously. 

Cher: Oh my gosh.

Gretchen: And Linguistics Llama was not by me or my friends. And it had one of those backgrounds with the spiral colors and it had a scarf which was very classy of it. And I did ultimately ... I don’t know if IRL but I definitely exchanged Tumblr DM’s with the guy who ran the Linguistics Llama account who was an undergrad at NYU or somewhere like that. And so I had been aware of Tumblr for a couple of years before that from the meme perspective. 

Lauren: That’s fantastic! 

Cher: I love the concept of a single serving Tumblr. Or how each post is its own serving, snack, bite or whatever it is ... bite sized post. 

Gretchen: And you still see these sort of themed Tumblrs, especially these days a lot of Tumblrs ... There’s the Tumblr that makes a calligraphy version of the post.

Lauren: Yes! Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know exactly what you’re talking about.

Gretchen: Or there’s the haiku bot Tumblr that re-blogs posts that have accidentally a haiku in them. These days a lot of those single serving Tumblrs are a bit more interactive. But you still see ones that are like, “I’m just posting things on one topic” and have this very narrowly constrained post type and they’ll pick a type of post. That was partly why I picked the name All Things Linguistic because I was like I want this to be very clear that this is a linguistics Tumblr. And that I’m going to post about not one specific area of linguistics, that’s what the word “all” means. (laughs)

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: (laughs) But that it’s sort of all around that. I didn’t really realize despite ... so, I knew about these single serving Tumblrs and the linguistic advice animals. But I didn’t really know that there were people who were hanging out in the linguistics tag on Tumblr until I got on there and I saw people re-blogging my post and them tagging it “linguistics” and seeing some of the other posts on there. So, then I was like, “Oh, there’s a whole community here that I could be a part of. It’s not just sort of randomly whatever is going on.” But yeah, I picked Tumblr because I knew how the interface worked from the back in the day Linguistics Lingcod. 

Lauren: That’s amazing. I love that you’ve always been doing linguistics on Tumblr. That that’s sort of always been your relationship to it. And we like to think of Tumblr as this very niche unique place in terms of how we talk to each other and the memes that we have and sort of the internal language we have. In all of the online spaces that you’ve been in do you feel like Tumblr does have sort of a unique language unto itself?

Gretchen: I remember a couple of years ago on Twitter, maybe 2018, 2019, there were all of these Twitter memes that were coming up. And I was like, I saw these on Tumblr eight years ago! (laughter) 

Cher: Yep.

Gretchen: There was that period where it was like, oh, okay, so the Twitter people have discovered Spiders George. That’s cool. 

Cher: [crosstalk 00:10:17] 

Gretchen: I was just about to make the same reference! “Do not cite the dark magic to me which I was there when it happened!” 

(laughter) 

Cher: Exactly. 

Lauren: That shared language really is such a huge part of the Tumblr experience. 

Gretchen: That’s the thing. You have this sort of shared vocabulary. A couple of things that I think are really interesting about Tumblr is that, one, is the half life of posts is so much incredibly longer. 

Lauren: Yeah! Oh, interesting. 

Gretchen: And the half life of a tweet – especially when I first joined Twitter which was actually also in 2012 but a little bit later in 2012. It was like six months later. Which felt like an eon because i was like, “I understand internet platforms now. I’m going to join all of them.” But the half life of tweets when I joined was maybe like an hour or two. And then Twitter started putting their thumb on the algorithm a little bit more and the half life of a tweet became more like six hours or twelve hours of if this tweet gets so legs it’s going to keep going and keep giving you notifications a day or two in. But the half life of a post on Tumblr. I mean, first of all, even a post that’s not very popular that’s only liked by a few of your friends or your mutual’s kind of thing is still like 12 hours. Because people catch up on their whole dash. 

Cher: [crosstalk 00:11:28]

Gretchen: I was gonna say. Do you have stats on this?

Cher: I do! I have a fun metric. About 1/3 of engagement on Tumblr posts happens 30+ days after posting. 

Gretchen: Yeah! Yeah! 

Lauren: That’s wild.

Gretchen: I totally buy it. Especially if you just make a post that’s a little update for your mutual’s or something it’s probably not going to have a ton of engagement later but any sort of post that gets a re-blog or two – it just lasts so much longer. I’ve had posts that I made this post five years ago but it’s still going around.

Lauren: Absolutely.

Cher: It’s always funny to go by on your dashboard that you posted years ago.

Gretchen: Yeah! 

Lauren: That happens to me sometimes on my ... I’ve got a public facing Tumblr and then my real Tumblr  and every now and then on my real Tumblr dash I’ll see my own post from my public facing Tumblr from eight months ago kind of cross my dash. And that’s always such  a strange moment. Especially since I think that Tumblr users are very good at digging up really old stuff somehow and then all of a sudden circulating a post a year after the fact. And I think that this can mean that certain things become sort of baffling popular. I kind of wanted to get your perspective on this, Gretchen – around why certain memes or ... I think the word “blorbo” especially is a great example of this ... why certain words catch on when others don’t. What makes something sort of become part of the permanent lexicon versus something that just gets passed around for a couple of months?

Gretchen: Yeah. I think there’s sort of two parts to that. One is this question of why do posts last so much longer? And the fact that posts last so much longer is a contributor to Tumblr having more of a culture because if you missed it the first time around you have so many more opportunities to see it. Whereas sometimes on a faster moving social network – I’m thinking of sort of the Twitter family of networks. So, Twitter, Blue Sky, Mastodon, all of those ones that are sort of very short text post based. You can show up after six hours and Bean Dad has happened and you’re like, “What!? I’ve missed all of this!?” Whereas on Tumblr things don’t show up on your dash quite as quickly. But [crosstalk 00:13:45] a lot longer. 

I think that’s partly related to the queue feature. The queue feature is really a driver of that. Because people put posts in their queues and then they resurface a week later, a month later, three months later, six months later and partly that person still looks like they’re active and maybe some of the posts they’re making are live. But also they can resurface their post that they saw six months ago and it shows up on your dash now and maybe you decide to re-blog it or you decide to put it in your queue and this extends the half life yet again.

Lauren: That makes a lot of sense.

Gretchen: Other platforms really don’t have that ... on something like Word Press ... Which Word Press is fine. I use Word Press for my professional website. And I can schedule posts there. But what I can’t do is automatically put them in this sort of system that’s going to doll them out without me having to think about it. I have to say, “This post goes up next Tuesday at 2PM.” I can’t say, “Just put it up at some point in the future, whenever you run out of other stuff to put up.” 

Lauren: Yeah. I love and use the queue feature. I haven’t really thought about it in that way before.

Cher: And I love how Tumblr users will often tag their queued posts. And they have all these fun little puns. “This one’s for queue,” or whatever it is and they post those ... there’s a whole queue tag ... I don’t know ... subgenre. 

Gretchen: Or like, “You’re a queue-tie” or something like that. Yeah. 

Cher: Exactly!

Gretchen: The queue is a big factor for that. But also the scheduling thing. Because some posts get tied to specific days and times. So, Julius Caesar Ides of March stuff going up around the Ides of March or like the September song, 21st of September, do you remember? This type of stuff. Stuff that gets tied to a specific day, people see it the day after and they go, oh, damn, I missed the window to put it up. I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to schedule this for this day next year. 

Lauren: Yes!

Gretchen: Because I’ve done that! 

Lauren: Me too!

Gretchen: I missed my window! Okay, I’ll just schedule it for next year with this idea that I’m still going to be here, people are still going to see it next year. Putting it into the future that way because it’s a way of participating in the culture. And also the idea of have I re-blogged this post a few years ago,  yep, maybe sure, I don’t care, I’m re-blogging it again because I’m seeing it.

Cher: Yep. Neil banging out the tunes, April 13th. 

Gretchen: Yes. Yeah.

Lauren: Right. All of these real holidays and all of these holidays that Tumblr has made up, or even days of the week memes! You know? Every fandom sort of has it. Whatever Wednesday. Yeah, that keeps a specific kind of culture alive. 

Gretchen: That part keeps it sort of going. I think the tags on Tumblr also contribute sometimes to posts getting revived again after a longer period. Because when you’re browsing for tags ... let’s say you just got into a show for the first time and you’re like, “Oh, what have other people posted? I want to re-post some gifs.” So, you go into the tag for that show and you filter for gifs and you start re-blogging them. And some of those people may have put those gifs up years ago. Depending on when the show came out. But you’re re-blogging them now because you’re browsing via tags and looking for stuff to put on your blog. That’s a kind of behavior that you don’t see ... there are other platforms that have tags but Instagram has hash tags and people browse with them but they have a very impoverished post sharing ability. You can really only do it in your story and then it disappears after 24 hours and so you don’t get anything like a re-blog culture. 

Twitter has a re-tweet culture and all the sort of Twitter family of networks. I’m on Blue Sky these days, baby. (laughs) And they have a re-tweet culture but they don’t have this “I’m gonna go find this and re-tweet all these tweets that are super old,” because they feature the timestamp very prominently on the tweet and so this idea of if you’re re-tweeting something that’s a week old it’s like, “Well, where were you?” Tumblr doesn’t feature timestamps very prominently anywhere on the posts. And so every post exists in this sort of eternal present.

Lauren: I hadn’t thought about the prominence of the timestamp being such a driving feature. But you’re totally right. I think that I’ll definitely get into a TV show from ten years ago and I’ll go and re-blog a bunch of gif sets from ten years ago because that’s when the fandom was most active. And I think that’s what Tumblr is for, right, is keeping those communities alive perpetually. 

Gretchen: Tumblr is also unique as far as internet platforms go because in the early days of the internet this was a very normal thing to do – to try and meet people online based around a common interest. But this is much less common in the present day internet and really since the internet became mainstream. And sort of when only a few people were online you had to figure out a way to try to get to know people online. Because your friends and your neighbors and your family aren’t going to be online so you have to figure out how you’re going to meet people. And that was often very interest based, like Use Net is all based on interest groups. 

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: But then when the internet became more mainstream you have things like Facebook which are all based on your contacts that you know IRL. Maybe you get to know people through a Facebook group or something but by and large Facebook is designed to connect you with people you already know. That’s this very sort of mainstream  style of internet behavior. Twitter has sort of got this combination of things where in some cases people you already know but in many cases it’s people who are like part of maybe a professional community or an interest type of community – but in a very loose sense. Right? So, it will be people who are romance authors are a big group on Twitter or people in tech in various ways are a big group on Twitter. Or like Linguist Twitter was a corner of Twitter that’s somewhat decimated now, which had overlap with other academic areas and this type of thing.

So, you sort of had a nebulous interest group but it was hard to find them because people weren’t necessarily using a tag to organize that. You just had to sort of start with some people and then go through their follower list and following list. Tumblr also doesn’t surface who you follow or who follows you automatically. You can do it optionally. I’ve always turned it off. And you can’t see how many followers someone has. And so you can’t follow a social graph to find people to follow. You have to look at tags or who people are re-blogging. Those are sort of your only options to find other people on Tumblr. 

Lauren: Yeah. I mean, in terms of how that drives language and shifts and how people are speaking online, I think in my head I’m imagining if I am on Facebook and I’m mostly interacting with the people from my real life or I’m on Twitter and I’m mostly interacting with podcasters or writers, then I am mostly engaging with people who are quite similar to me whereas on Tumblr I’m engaging with all kinds of people. And does that drive language faster or more differently if you are sort of engaging with a bunch of different types of people versus the people sort of more insularly in your circle?

Gretchen: I am so delighted you asked. There have been studies on this! (laughs) 

Lauren: Ooh!

Gretchen: A lot of the work on this has happened through Twitter because Twitter has an API that’s really good for downloading this type of data. There have been a few masters thesises about Tumblr linguistics which are very cool. And their authors are people who just use Tumblr and collect some data. But if you want to study Tumblr you have to do a sort of participant ethnography. You can’t just download a fire hose of a whole bunch of posts because that capacity doesn’t exist on a technical level. You could use the API to download one person’s Tumblr blog but what would be the point of that?

Lauren: Right. 

(laughter)

Gretchen: Whereas on Twitter, back before they killed this, but you could hook up to the whole fire hose and you could make a whole social network graph of who is following who and so you could get a sense of approximately who was seeing what. So, a lot of the internet language research has been done on Twitter not because everyone is on Twitter because very much everyone is not. But because it’s this very convenient sample that has this very convenient way of analyzing it. 

So, this particular study that I’m thinking of finds that the way we adopt new words is this balance between strong ties and weak ties. Social theory – strong ties are people where you have a lot of acquaintances in common, friends and acquaintances in common. You know a lot of people in common very densely imbedded in your social network. And in many cases people spend more time with their strong ties because that’s how they get introduced to your other friends, right? So, a lot of people’s partner is a strong tie, or their best friend is a strong tie, because that person also knows a bunch of your friends because you probably introduce them to each other or you met as part of a friend group. And so you have all these friends in common.

And then your weak ties are people that you don’t have any or very many friends in common with. And so you’re maybe likely to see them less often but not necessarily. So, let’s say a barista at your favorite coffee shop who maybe you go there twice a week and you see them regularly, more often than some of your friends maybe, but you don’t actually have any friends in common with that barista. 

So, weak ties are a really important source of new information to a social network. Studies have shown that you are more likely to get a job through a weak tie. 

Lauren: Interesting!

Gretchen: Because your friends already know everything you know. Basically. Whereas your weak ties, especially a weak tie who is sometimes a friend of a friend – your friends may not have a job that they could give you but they might know someone who has a job they could give you or like your acquaintance may know someone. And you have a much larger circle of acquaintances than you do close friends just because that’s how time works. (laughs)

So, there’s a very interesting study that I cited because internet, I can’t remember the author but if anyone wants to go look up the citation you can do that, that did a sort of network model analysis of what if you had a social network that was all strong ties? So, this is your sort of classic sitcom style social network where everybody is friends with everybody else. Or you have a really tiny town and everybody in the town knows everybody. There’s 100 people on this island and they all have known each other for their entire lives.

And in this situation, the language situation rapidly becomes very stable. There isn’t a lot of change in the language situation because where is that change coming from? We’ve all been talking to each other our entire lives. Someone would have to invent a new form spontaneously which is less likely than someone just picking something up from somewhere else and transmitting it.

Conversely, a network that’s all weak ties ... so you can think of something like an airport where nobody really knows each other. You’re just chatting with the person next to you in line and you never really become friends after that. Nothing ever becomes predominant in a community because there’s no reinforcement mechanism for anything. Everyone is just talking differently from each other but there’s no way for really anything to really spread. 

What they’ve found is that most social networks have a mix of strong and weak ties. And a weak tie is more likely to introduce a new linguistic form you haven’t encountered yet. Because they have a different social network to you. Largely. But you’re more likely to start using and picking up a form if someone who is one of your strong ties uses it. 

Cher: Have you noticed any difference in kind of communication, like the linguistic use or slang use or whatever it might be, on Tumblr within different communities that you might be a part of on Tumblr? 

Gretchen: One of the things that I think about from this is that like Facebook has sort of more strong ties than weak ties. And I feel like it is less linguistically innovative than Twitter is, or than Twitter used to be back in its heyday. Because Twitter had a lot more sources of new information, people you didn’t already know IRL. And so there were way more sources of new stuff.

For Tumblr, I’m trying to think about ... I feel like there’s less of an ability to get a gestalt of the entire site because your own personal network experience is so specific. Sometimes I see ... there was a past that went around a little while ago that was this, “I cannot stand these parodies of modern major  [inaudible 00:26:42] original.” And this post was getting like 10K notes in its first 24 hours. Three different people who are on my dash who I’m pretty sure didn’t know each other had all re-blogged it separately from different people. And I then went and checked the timestamp and I was like, oh, this post is 24 hours old and it’s just spreading everywhere.

I think people don’t have necessarily the same hesitation around, “I’m going to re-share this even though it’s already been in my feed,” because then the person that I re-blogged it from will just treat that as a compliment and not treat it as, “well, that’s kind of boring.” On Twitter I tend to not re-tweet a tweet if it’s too popular because then I’m like, “Yeah, that’s boring, that’s yesterday’s news.” That’s been done, everyone has seen this already.

Whereas on Tumblr a post has 100K notes and I’m like, yeah, sure I’m still re-blogging it, this was quality.

Cher: And you can re-blog as many things, I mean, up to our post limit, as you want and still your followers would be excited to have you re-blogging or re-posting 250 things in a day.  Versus being like, “Oh my gosh, that’s a lot.”

Gretchen: Yeah. So, there’s a couple interesting mechanisms around re-blogging. It’s very common to re-blog without commentary or re-blog with just a few bits in the tags on Tumblr. And then if your tags are witty enough or incisive enough someone else might promote them and you passed peer review. 

Cher: Yes. 

Lauren: Yep! 

Gretchen: And so this is a mechanism of saying which things ... fewer posts get circulated more on Tumblr. They get circulated more and for longer. So, this is another side of the Tumblr has a more cohesive culture because you’re more likely to have seen the same post as other people because they circulate so much. And I remember when I first joined Twitter it was very rare to see a tweet that had more than 100 re-tweets. Now they’ve been putting their thumb on the algorithm more, you do see these very popular tweets. But at the time it was already very common to see Tumblr posts with five digits or six digits of notes. That’s always been a part of Tumblr culture I think.

Cher: Why do you think the Tumblr community gravitates towards captioning or talking in the tags versus in the caption section? It’s one of my favorite things about the platform and the way users engage but it’s always interested me how that sort of came about. 

Gretchen: The commentary that I’ve seen and I sort of agree with this is that because ... Tumblr’s re-blog culture preserves the entire chain. So, if you say something in the tags then if somebody wants to re-blog the post from you they can just say their own things in the tags and they don’t have to preserve what you’ve said. If you say something in the comment field then if someone wants to re-blog the post from you they’ve got to preserve your comments. And sometimes I’ve seen a post that has three really interesting comments and then someone said something kind of boring and I will go back up that chain and re-blog the version without their boring addition, even if their boring addition was my friend.

Lauren: Same!

Cher: Yep. 

Gretchen: So, if you’re worried that someone is going to be like, oh, I’ll have to go back up the re-blog chain and re-blog this post without your boring addition, you’re like, I’m just going to put this in the tags, that’s polite. That’s sort of discreet. And tags are also a way of talking primarily to your followers because if someone re-blogs that post from you they’re not going to see it. Their followers aren’t going to see it. So, it’s a way of having a sort of private, or not quite private, but like a more intimate level of conversation at the same time as you’re participating in this sort of almost site-wide culture of these bigger posts that have lots of stuff on them – you can sort of do that in the replies. 

I also think that an underrated technological affordance of these tags is that Tumblr tags support spaces. Because Tumblr has a tags field and if you tag a post on Twitter or Instagram you have to write your hash tags without spaces. I’m saying hash tags on this platform but on Tumblr they’re tags. You have to write them without spaces. So, this puts a natural limit on how many tags and how long of tags you can write because no one wants to read this seven words all smooshed together with no spaces. That’s kind of obnoxious. Whereas with Tumblr tags you’ve got spaces in it so you can just read it like a normal thing. And also that tags on re-blogs aren’t searchable except for like if you’re indexing a post on your own blog. So, you can tag something that has your queue tag and then you can find your own queue tag. But otherwise they don’t become searchable and so the tags ... they’re sort of useless on a practical level which means you can write commentary in them because they’re not actually trying to do something practical. 

And it’s kind of obnoxious SEO behavior to put too many tags in your post on Twitter or Instagram where they are readily searchable. Because you can’t actually search tags on Tumblr, at least not in a re-blog very well, it’s like, well yeah, this is a space for commentary instead. There’s also a fannish culture because Tumblr is very fannish of using tags for commentary on archive of our own on AO3. 

Lauren: That’s such a good point!

Gretchen: AO3 tags have this mixture of commentary tag and functional tag that Tumblr tags also have. And so I would wager that most people on Tumblr know what archive of our own is. Whereas on sites like Twitter or Instagram some people do, depending on your subculture, but it’s less of a direct influence probably. 

Lauren: Do you think that’s something that AO3 took from Tumblr, because a lot of those users overlap, that that’s why that happened on AO3? 

Gretchen: I think a lot of them overlap but I think the directionality may be in the other direction. 

Lauren: Interesting! 

Gretchen: Because ... so, archive of our own was founded in I wanna say 2005. 

Lauren: Yeah, yeah, I think you’re right. It definitely was sort of as fanfic.net was ... they sort of crossed paths a little bit. 

Gretchen: Yeah, ‘cause an analogy that I really like making is that AO3 is actually very similar in size to the English Wikipedia ... in terms of like how long its existed and how many bytes of words are on both. They are very similar in size. 

Lauren: That’s nuts! (laughs) 

Gretchen: And in terms of this sort of skewed long tail ratio of how many people write on them versus how many people read on them, I think also quite similar. 

Lauren: Yeah! Right, a small percentage of people are contributing of the people who are reading. Yeah.

Gretchen: I actually wrote an article for Wired a number of years ago when AO3 was winning the Hugo about how we should be ... because a lot of tech ink has been spilled about here’s how great Wikipedia is and here’s what we all could be learning about it. And not nearly as much has been spilled about here’s how great AO3 is and here’s what we could be learning about it. Even though they have very similar sorts of pedigrees. And I wrote a piece for wired that was like, “Here’s why AO3 is so neat,” and interviewed a couple of the tag wranglers to talk about AO3’s tagging system and how it works in the backend with a lot of volunteer labor to make it useable for users. 

Yeah, I just think that AO3’s tagging system and it had this sort of tag wrangling open field you can do your commentary tags and you can also do your sorting tags in the same field. This was influenced by fannish practice on earlier social platforms. I wasn’t really on Live Journal but a lot of people were on Live Journal. If somebody knows more about Live Journal’s tagging practice I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an influence there. Also on other fan fic sites for sure.

Lauren: Yeah. The tagging on AO3 is so interesting too because you’ve got your functional tags like Tumblr has, too, where you’re putting it to the people find it in a particular search or to categorize your own profile or whatever. And then there’s the commentary tags and then AO3 has this weird in-between space that I don’t see on Tumblr as much which is fandom specific tags that sort of begin as commentary and then become actual sortable tags. Like “such and such character is an idiot,” or whatever. These things that sort of become fanon and therefore sort of get adopted sort of by the tag wranglers. 

Gretchen: Like “dead dove do not eat” kind of thing.

Lauren: Right. Exactly! Yeah. Which is something I first encountered on Tumblr in the way it was used. Which is interesting ... 

Gretchen: I think there’s some extent to which people do this on their personal Tumblrs. I’m thinking of all these sort of fun creative queue tags which may have started out as like, “Oh, I’m just doing this sort of joke,” and then sometimes they carry on. My tag for internet language on All Things Linguistic is still “Language on the interwebs,” because I tagged a post that in 2012 and then I was like, I guess this is what I’m using for this tag now. I have to go back and check because it’s like did I spell interwebs with an “s” or a zed? I have to check every time. Because I was just joking! But I’m still doing this!? 

(laughter)

Lauren: That’s awesome. 

Gretchen: There’s over 100 posts in that tag because there’s so many things.

Lauren: Is it an “s” or a “z?” 

Gretchen: Look, I don’t know. I’d have to check! I think it’s an “s.” But I have actually tagged several ... some posts I’ve tagged with both because I couldn’t remember. So, if you click on one and you’re like, “there’s not any posts in here,” just click on the other one and see if you’ll get more. 

Lauren: I totally have ... my playlist tag I always just tag “playlist” and “playlists,” because I can never remember which one it is that I used. 

Cher: Sometimes I’ll be typing what I think is an original sentence as a tag and it will auto complete for me as ... someone has also typed out this similarly chaotic or unhinged sentence at some point. 

Lauren: The great Tumblr hive mind. 

Gretchen: I’ve always wanted to do a study of Tumblr tags. Cher, if there’s way you can hook us up with this data maybe this is a possibility, because it’s so hard to do data on anything in Tumblr. But also maybe Tumblr users would find this creepy so maybe we should just never do this. There was a meme that was going around ... I haven’t seen it in the last five years or so but there was this style of post that was going around for a while that would list five words and it would be “type these words into your tag field and fill in your tag that auto completes from them.” 

Lauren: Yes! 

Gretchen: So, it would be a list of colors or something ... when you tag something green what was that tag? 

Lauren: Yes, I love those posts because it always brings up stuff that you completely forgot about, about your own blog. You know?

Gretchen: And I always thought that if there was a way of scraping all the tags from a post, a post like that would be a really interesting one to do this weird cross section of tags on Tumblr. It would be a biased sample but it would be biased in a very different way compared to using the tags that are searchable tags. 

Cher: And we can absolutely hook you up with that data, Gretchen. So, just let me know what info you want, what data you want, and we can [crosstalk 00:37:38]. 

Gretchen: Where were you when I was writing!? Because [crosstalk 00:37:43]

Lauren: You need to make another book!

Cher: Yeah, I’m here for the sequel, Gretchen. I’ve got you. [crosstalk 00:37:53]

Gretchen: I was joking for a while that my next book would be called “Despite Internet,” which is how I wrote a book despite all the distractions online. 

Cher: Oh my gosh. YES. 

Lauren: I love that. What a great idea!

Gretchen: If I ever write a memoir ... (laughs)

Lauren: Yes, absolutely. I know that we are coming to the end of our time here. So, as a final fun question – do you have a favorite Tumblr linguistic quirk or meme or something that just has brought you a lot of joy on Tumblr as a linguist?

Gretchen: Oh man, how do I choose? They’re all my children! (laughs) 

Cher: You can pick a few. 

Lauren: Yes. Top three.

Gretchen: I’ve got this whole book that I wrote! (laughs) So, I’m going to pick a classic. I relaly like the style of what I have called stylized verbal incoherence mirroring emotional incoherence. 

Lauren: Ooh!

Cher: Beatifully put.

Gretchen: (laughs)

Cher: Put very coherently.

Gretchen: And the point is that it’s stylized and so you are actually doing it on purpose, it’s not just sort of random key smash type things. But the Tumblr minimalist style, which as far as I can tell was initially most popular on Tumblr of lowercasing things, not using a lot of punctuation, using maybe line breaks only or periods as a way of breaking things up but not using a whole bunch of other punctuation. There’s this classic Tumblr post that’s like, “Tumblr, language is so smooth, it’s like a jungle river, with no periods, nothing stops here.” I’m not memorizing it that well and I haven’t seen it go around my dash that much in recent years. But there was a while when I was seeing it every week. 

Lauren: I know exactly what post you’re talking about.

Cher: Yeah.

Gretchen: We can dig this up and re-blog it, right? 

Lauren: For sure.

Gretchen: What I loved about it was the meta commentary on the reflection about a style that already existed that other people were doing that was also doing this self referentially and that people were spreading it. One of the reasons why Tumblr becomes this source of linguistic innovation is that Tumblr users love commenting about their own linguistic innovation. And then spreading those posts that comment on it. So, you see all these posts that will be like, “Oh yeah, I’m doing this.” And this swift like a jungle river post got posted, re-blogged so many times. And so even if you weren’t seeing that style initially, you would see the post that was commenting about it and go maybe this is something that I might want to do. This is something that other people seem to recognize and I think that the re-blog culture and the number of notes gives these observations a sense of sort of authenticity or gravitas or just this sense that they’ve passed peer review. 

Other Tumblr users also think that this is the case because they’ve re-posted it. Because they re-blogged it. And if someone was making an observation about Tumblr culture or Tumblr language that wasn’t especially trenchant it just sort of sinks and vanishes without a trace. It’s these ones that get tens and hundreds of thousands of notes where people are like,  yeah, I agree with this, I cosign this, I believe this. And I think that’s why stuff spreads because Tumblr users like that meta commentary and the ones that feel real keep getting passed around. 

Lauren: Absolutely. I think that’s a perfect bow to put on the whole conversation. Gretchen, thank you so much for coming to talk to us about this. If people want to follow you online and learn more about this stuff – where can they find you?

Gretchen: Thank you so much for having me. I am at GretchenMcCulloch.com – my podcast is Lingthusiasm. It’s also @lingthusiasm on Tumblr. My Tumblr is @allthingslinguistic and my book about internet language is called “Because Internet.” 

[gentle music]

Cher: What has you in your feels this week, Lauren?

Lauren: So, I have two quick in my feels things. The first is My Lady Jane on Amazon Prime, which is a new TV show. And without saying too much about it, because I sort of went in not really knowing anything and was really delighted, it just reminds me of the peak CW shows from the late 2000s when it was still the WB into sort of the mid 20-teens. Just everything about it feels like a CW show from 2013 and I really  have been missing that on my television. So, that’s been bringing me  lots of joy. 

And then my daily podcast that I’ve been doing for the past year, Breaker Whiskey, is coming to a close tomorrow as of this recording, by the time this episode comes out it will have been ... the first year will have been over for a week. There’s been some really fun posts on Tumblr about it. About people getting excited for the finale. About people reacting to teh things that are happening. And it’s a very small group of people but it’s just always amazing when there is any Tumblr fandom at all for anything I make. And so that has been making me very, very happy this last week.

What about you, Cher? What’s got you in your feels?

Cher: I am having a lot of emotions, Lauren, about House of the Dragon. Do you watch?

Lauren: I don’t.

Cher: In my opinion, everyone especially the dragons should live forever. And that’s just what I’m going to say about it.

Lauren: Okay. Got you. [inaudible 00:43:12]

Cher: That is very much not the topic of the show. (laughs) The show is about how the dragons went extinct and they’re starting to show us and as it turns out I don’t want to know, Lauren!

Lauren: Oh no!

Cher: The dragons are all baby girls. They’re all poor little meow-meows. And they should be protected at all costs. 

Lauren: And I’m Lauren Shippen, and you can find me at TheLaurenShippen.Tumblr.com.

Cher: And I’m Cher McAnelly and you can find me at OverChers.Tumblr.com. 

Cher: This has been Dashboard Diaries. And ... 

[outtro music]

Lauren: May your anons always be loving.

Cher: Your dash always refreshed.

Lauren: Your gifs always be loading.

Cher: And your ships always canon.

Lauren: May the fics you’re reading always be finished.

Cher: And the answers you seek always in the re-blogs.

Lauren: Thanks for scrolling with us!

Every Tumblr user knows that we Tumblrinas use language a little differently. We're not like other social media users. We're weird. We're weirdos. And this month, we have actual linguist Gretchen McCulloch (@allthingslinguistic) on to talk about it!! Plus: House of the Dragon dragon-related feelings and throwing a ball in the air as you lay on your bed like a 90s teen character.

Credits and transcript in our reblog. You can find transcripts for this, and every other episode, here.

Find the posts discussed in this episode in this tag!

[sinner-as-saint]

we can’t stop, we’re enemies.

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader AU

Run-through: After the events of the last battle against Thanos, you teamed up with Sam and Bucky to carry on your superhero duties. You got along with Sam just fine, he was a really good friend to you. Bucky however, was not. From constant banters, to unnecessary hand-to-hand combat, to purposely getting each other in trouble during risky missions, to being the main cause of Sam’s migraines; it was safe to say that you and Bucky considered yourselves to be each other’s nemesis. Although that soon changes when, courtesy of your silly banters, a certain mission goes slightly wrong - one which involves strong chemicals which, unbeknownst to you, were designed to mess with the brain and hormones, thus encouraging the need to breed and procreate amongst all those who inhale it...

Themes: enemies-to-lovers, smut, sex pollen trope, dirty talk, swear words, fluff

“How is it going up there Sam, talk to me.” 

You spoke, waiting to hear from Sam through the ear piece. 

The three of you were on a mission on unfamiliar lands. Rumor had it that some shady organization was conducting illegal experiments. The whole location was spooky, and you needed to be thorough and quick. So Sam decided to get an aerial view along with Red Wing, and see if there are any threats coming your way while you and Bucky decided to check out the underground laboratories. 

The whole place was shadowy and old, it almost seemed like no one had been here in a long time. But still, these people were criminals so you had to gather every evidence you could which would lead you their way. 

And so far, after exploring the place for the past half an hour, you found nothing major. Just weird laboratory glassware filled with liquids and what not. 

“Sam?” you called out again into the ear piece, keeping your gun at the ready. “Say something damn it.” 

His reply came. “There’s something sketchy about the building at the back, I’m gonna go check it out. But you have to promise me you won’t kill each other by the time I get back.” 

You and Bucky sent death glares at each other in disgust. He was on the other side of the lab, flipping through files and papers, while you were searching the cabinets and drawers. The two of you were separated by a steel workstation. Dark leather jacket, metal arm exposed; you’d find him handsome if he wasn’t so annoying. 

“Sure, whatever.” Bucky mumbled, being his grumpy self. 

You frowned at him, “Dude, drop your fucking attitude.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Sam roared through the ear piece, “Enough! Focus, you two are in the labs and we don’t know what’s in there. Just, maybe look out for each other. Okay? I’m going in.”

“Be careful, Sam.” You spoke, sending another dirty look at Bucky. 

“Yeah y-,” 

Sam got cut off. All you could hear was some static noises and then complete silence. 

“Sam? Can you hear us?” Bucky tried reaching out but neither of you could hear him. “This isn’t good.” 

“Damn it!” You cursed. “Maybe he flew out of range. Or maybe we’re too deep under.” 

For once in his life he nodded, agreeing with you. “Let’s just hurry up and see what we can find. We need to get out of here as fast as we can and get to the Jet.” He said, flipping through more and more files and papers, his metal arm glistening in the poorly lit room. 

You sassed in the same tone he used before, “Don’t tell me what to do.” And you earned yourself another glare from him. 

Fifteen minutes later and you two still had nothing to work with. 

“This is useless. There’s nothing here, this is just bullshit.” Bucky complained, slamming down a file on the workstation so hard that it made you jump. 

You were annoyed. You slammed a cabinet shut and turned to face him. “Oh I’m sorry princess, is work getting too tiring? Do you need a break? Hmm?” 

“Shut up, you’re the one who keeps whining all the time.” He wasn’t wrong. 

You stepped forward, grabbing the edge of the cold workstation. “Well maybe if you’d quit complaining and actually do your part of the job, then I wouldn’t have to whine about always doing everything on my own and you taking credit for it in front of Sam.” 

He leaned forward, his metal arm already denting his side of the edge of the workstation. “Maybe if you’d stop bitching about everything and everyone all the time then maybe we’d get along and actually get shit done.” 

You leaned in too. “Or maybe if just me and Sam teamed up, we’d work better. I still don’t know why he keeps you around. Take your metal arm away, what are you? Exactly, just a hundred year old, confused man.” 

He smirked. “And what are you? Just a spoilt, whiny brat who knows how to use a gun?” He knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted out of you. 

In less than a few seconds you had your loaded gun out in front of you, aiming it at his forehead. “And guess what, she never misses a target.” You spat at him. 

You had done this before; aiming guns at each other until Sam comes to break the tension. But Sam wasn’t here this time. 

Bucky knew you would never pull the trigger on him so he gave you a handsome, arrogant smirk which only pissed you off even more. “Come on, shoot.” He provoked you. 

“Stop pissing me off.” You warned. 

“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me for calling you a whiny, spoilt brat? See, that’s exactly what brats do.” 

“James, stop.” Oh he was getting on your nerves. You were agitated. 

He just smirked and went on. “I actually believe that that might be your superpower, destroying people by annoying them to death with how much of a brat you can actually be.” 

You glared at him, unmoving, furious. You placed your forefinger on the trigger. “Say brat one more time and I will blow your fucking head off and when Sam asks, I’ll make it seem like an accident.” 

He leaned closer, aligning his forehead to the barrel of your gun. He stared at you with his stormy, ocean blue eyes; inciting you to just pull the damn trigger. He watched you with mischief in his eyes. “Brat.” He mouthed, smirking right after and waiting for your reaction. 

You clenched your jaw and shifted your aim just a little so that the bullet misses him but still shoots right by his ear. You pulled the trigger without hesitation, shooting at the shelf filled with dark red and brown liquids behind Bucky. 

Bucky maintained his calm and composure despite the loud sound of the shattering glass falling on the tiles right behind him. “Brat.” He said again, out loud this time. 

“I hate you.” You lowered your gun but then noticed something behind Bucky. Smoke, or some sort of vapor oozing out of the broken flasks and test tubes. You froze for a second. “Bucky, look.” You walked around the workstation and joined him on the other side. 

The vapor quickly filled the room like thick fog, reducing visibility and making your throat burn a little. You coughed; once, twice. You looked beside you and Bucky was standing there with a look of horror on his face. 

The moment his supersoldier sense got a whiff of the vapor, something in him ignited. No… 

“We have to get out of here. Now.” You heard his voice, then felt his cold fingers wrap around your wrists as he tugged you along, making his way out of the lab. He tried to hold his breath but he couldn’t hold it very long. He tried to find the door to exit the room but that was hard too because neither of you could see properly. 

“This stuff,” you spoke in between coughs, “will probably kill us, won’t it?” You held on tightly to his arm. “You need to get us out of here now.” The vapor was reducing your visibility more and more. 

He felt the side of the wall, looking for the metal handle of the door through which you entered the lab. “It won’t kill us.” He growled as he looked beside him. You were standing close to him, so close, holding on to his arm tightly, a thin layer of sweat covered your face. 

It was almost funny how you had your gun aimed at him just a minute ago and now you were relying on him for protection. 

“How can you be so sure? Do you know what this stuff is?” You asked. 

He sighed. He knew. “I have a hunch, but let’s hope I’m wrong.” He felt warm. Deep inside something stirred in him. Animalistic, primal, feral. It was there, pressing and burning. Guess he wasn’t wrong. 

He finally found the door and he pushed it open, letting the two of you out and you took off running at once. You tried to reach Sam. A couple tries later, he finally responded. “I got some names, I think we got what we’re looking for. Where are you guys?” 

“We found…. uh, nothing. We’re on our way to the jet, meet us there.” Bucky responded, running beside you. 

You were confused out of your mind, not to mention you felt feverish. Hot, and you were sweating more than usual in places you’d rather not think about. Something in you was yearning to break free. You felt chained, you needed release. You felt like something had awakened inside of you; a deep hunger. Aroused, you felt aroused. Or was it just the adrenaline rush? 

By the time you tried to figure out what was actually going on with you, you both had made it to the Jet. 

“I feel sick.” you mumbled, stumbling on your way inside the jet. “I think… I think that smoke poisoned me.” You placed your palm against the side of the plane to hold on so you don’t fall. You felt like gravity wasn’t pulling you down anymore. You were a little out of breath. 

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You grimaced as it only ignited the fire which you just found out had been burning inside you since you left the lab. 

“You’re not poisoned. You’re not sick, you’re gonna be okay. We just have to… we have to get home.” Bucky was worse than you were. His enhanced senses allowed him to feel everything you felt, times ten perhaps. 

His heart raced as he got a whiff of your fading perfume, mixed with the adrenaline pumping through your veins and your natural, raw scent. He could feel your arousal from here, and it pulled him in so easily. All he wanted to do was to tear your suit off, pin you up against the side of the Jet and fuck the living hell out of you, stretch you out and just rail you until you could no longer take it. 

Fuck. 

You looked up at him; heart racing, palms sweating and even your mouth was salivating more than usual. “You know what that thing was, don’t you?” You asked, ignoring the way his cold hand upon your shoulder made you want to lean into his touch even more. “What was it?” 

You saw the look in his hooded eyes. Bucky sighed, pulling his hand away from you and the loss of contact made you whimper ever so quietly. You felt warmer and more and more breathless with each second that passed by. 

“They used to make those substances, long ago back when I was with HYDRA. I didn’t expect to find those here. They were used to… to try and see if they could get super soldiers to procreate naturally.” Bucky explained and waited for your reaction. 

“Sex pollen. Correct?” 

He nodded, “Yes.” 

You were a little shaken, but relieved knowing that at least it wasn’t poison and you wouldn’t be dying a painful death. “That’s… I mean, it could have been poison.” You didn’t know how to react after you pieced it all together. “How long before it wears off?” 

“Twenty-four hours unless...” 

“Unless what?” 

“Unless you fuck it out of your system well enough.”

That had you surprised. “Oh. Well that’s just great, isn’t it? Fucking perfect. I’m screwed.” 

Bucky tried his hardest to refrain himself from leaning in and biting that sassy mouth of yours, shoving his tongue past your lips to shut you up, to hear you moan and gasp and cry out his name as he takes you however he wants to… 

“We.” He corrected you. “It’ll get worse every hour.” He replied. 

You sighed and moved away from him, unzipping your combat suit partly and removing the jacket because you couldn’t handle the heat. Bucky cursed as you stripped into just a tank top and tight pants, right in front of him. He felt his cock get harder. 

“Can you not?” He sounded pissed off again; frustrated. “This is all your doing. The least you can do is make this a little bit easier for both of us.” 

His words made you turn around and glare at him. “How is this my doing? I didn’t even know what was in that lab.” 

He stepped forward, instinctively. The sight of your exposed neck and your soft skin was making him think of unspeakable things that he wanted to do to you. As he advanced, you tried not to look down at his cock, straining against his zipper. Your heart raced as you took in the size of his bulge. Enhanced super soldier indeed. 

“Had you not been a spoiled brat who can’t take a joke, you wouldn’t have tried to shoot at me nor would you have shot those flasks!” He argued, feeling more and more warm as he got closer to you. 

You took a step forward as well, fueled by annoyance, lust and anger. “Who was it who provoked me into doing that because they couldn’t keep their fucking mouth shut, huh? That’s right, your annoying ass!” 

Bucky pushed you against the side of the Jet without a second thought. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with his hand while pressing his body into you, his metal arm circling around your waist and pressing you further into him. 

He hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t thought about how your warm breath would feel against his skin, or how warm your body would be under his touch. You felt feverish, having him this close. His tall, large frame and his tight grip made your whimper under him. Your body reacted to him naturally. 

All you felt was warm, his body heat, his scent. The feeling of his cold leather jacket against your flushed skin. You wanted him. Or rather, your body did. 

“Don’t you provoke me now, you fucking whiny brat.” He whispered, menacingly into your ear. 

You tried to ignore the shivers his voice sent down your entire body. But he saw it. And you could feel his erection press against your crotch. Just to mess with him, you discreetly moved your hips against his, making him hiss loudly. 

“What are you gonna do about it, dipshit?” You sassed, knowing that given his intensified senses he must be feeling much worse than you. 

He groaned as you kept grinding against him, your pulsating core rubbing against the bulge in his pants. And that only made it worse for both of you. 

“Fuck…” Bucky swore, before quickly pulling away from you, but not releasing you yet. “You’re such a bitch.” His body was screaming for you, each nerve ending of his was on fire. A fire only you could douse. 

You were just the same, on the edge and wanting to reach out for him; knowing he would satiate your hunger better than anyone could. Your body was throbbing as you stared into his eyes, your gaze lowering down to his dog tags. How you wanted those dangling right above your face… 

You heard someone clear their throat. It wasn’t Bucky. 

“Something you two need to tell me? Or is this just your new way of trying to kill each other?” A deep voice asked from behind Bucky. 

“Sam! Are you okay?” You escaped Bucky’s grip and rushed to Sam. 

He seemed alright to you. He nodded. “Yeah, we just need to get home. I need to notify the team and see what we should do next. What was in those labs?” 

You glared at Bucky. His smug face alone was pissing you off, but God right now you wanted to ride that man until the sun came tomorrow morning. 

“Just a bunch of useless experiments. Nothing major.” He glared at you as he said the last bit to Sam. 

The ride back home was one of the most painful, annoying and frustrating situations you had ever undergone. Each time you felt like someone was watching you, you’d turn your head to the side and find Bucky staring; and his stares would make your body tremble in need. 

Meanwhile he was having a hard time too, in more ways than one. He could feel his blood rush south even at the brief sound of your voice whenever you sighed in annoyance or talked to Sam. Luckily the latter could not pick up on the thick, sexual tension. 

Once at the compound, you each hurried to your own rooms and that’s where you stayed until the evening. Sam found it weird that you both skipped dinner but he didn’t need another headache today so he went to bed, telling himself that he’d deal with you two tomorrow morning. 

Bucky was a mess. Even after an hour under the cold shower his body was still calling out for you. He tried taking care of his business on his own, but that wasn’t working. He was still so hard it was painful. Nothing could make this better, nothing could soothe the pain - nothing but you. He needed you so badly it was driving him insane, like he was an animal in heat being asked to suppress his feral desires towards his mate. Being away from you was painful. He couldn’t help but hate you for no reason at all usually, but he’d do what it takes to be inside you and make you scream his name right now. 

You were equally as troubled at the super soldier. You tried taking a warm bath and tried to think of other things you could focus on, but nothing worked. Your toys didn’t seem appealing tonight, you needed him, all of him. You shivered at the thought of his taut, virile body under yours, or above. His masculine scent, the sound of his moans, would he bite?… fuck. You could feel your arousal leak out of you every now and then, it was insane how aroused you were. You couldn’t look at him for long without getting unnecessarily annoyed, but you would do anything just to have him rearrange your guts right now. 

What made it worse was that neither of you could stand each other at all. Enemies, you called yourselves. But right now you couldn’t help but crave each other in the most salacious way possible. 

Fuck this. You couldn’t take this anymore. You decided to swallow your pride and make your way to his room and ask him if you two could come to an agreement on how to fight this thing because it would be impossible to go another twenty hours feeling like this. You were burning from the inside. This was unbearable. 

Just as you opened your bedroom door, you were slightly surprised to find Bucky standing right outside your door. His metal hand up midair, as though he was to knock on your door and you happened to open the door just in time. You almost drooled at the sight of him; sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt. You swallowed and cleared your throat. 

“Hey.” You greeted him, not knowing how to deal with this situation. You felt so drawn to him in that moment, so damn restless and needy that it was hard to breathe right while looking at him. 

“I was, uh, about to knock…” He didn’t know how he got here, he didn’t remember. Maybe it was the chemicals messing with his brain and turning him into a hungry beast. He didn’t care that he was knocking on your door in the middle of the night, he wanted you. He was craving you and that’s all he knew. Also the oversized t-shirt, the only you were wearing at the time, was not helping at all. 

“Yeah, um…” you rambled then stopped talking the moment you found him staring into your eyes with a wild look in his eyes. 

That was it. 

You grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind him. Before Bucky could process anything, you had him pushed against your closed door and your mouth was on his, kissing him hungrily. Your hands slowly slipped under his tight t-shirt and you lazily trailed your hands up and down his toned abs. 

His hands gripped your hips on either side as he kissed you back with just as much ardor as you did. His body ignited the moment he felt your lips and hands on him, yet the heat was weirdly satisfying; it stimulated him but calmed him down at the same time. It felt perfect. This was just what he needed, you. 

Your movements were rapid and passionate, fiery. Hands roaming each other's body, touching and feeling and exploring; making each other moan like you were both touch-starved. 

You let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue slip past your lips, stroking the top of your mouth while his metal hand slipped under your shirt. Your body was tingling wherever he touched you. His touch made you feel way better than you had felt in the past few hours and you were grateful. Your moans sent his mind straight to the gutter and he couldn’t wait to be inside you. 

“I need you…” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away to catch your breath. “I need you to fuck me… right here, right now.” Your demands made him smirk as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes. 

“Oh?” he managed to still find the energy to be an ass to you. “Why don’t you go on and beg for it, then?” 

You scoffed, leaning in to lick his lips while you hand dipped into his pants. You grabbed his erected cock and gave it a little, gentle squeeze. He moaned like he hadn’t been touched in forever. Like he was desperate for one thing and one thing only; you. You whispered, “You need me too, Bucky. I’m not gonna beg you, I’m doing you a favor here.” You slid your closed fist up and down his length and made him moan some more before you let go and watched him groan and clench his jaw in annoyance. 

He looked down at you, panting in need just as you were. His hand slid into your hair and he gripped it, tugging on it just enough to make you gasp in pleasure and pain. “Still a fucking brat with that annoying attitude I see?” He leaned in to bite your exposed neck, making your cry out in pain before he licked the spot, soothing it. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll fuck all that attitude out of you.” 

He let go of your hair but tightened his grip around your waist as he placed his mouth back on yours. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow; biting your lip and bruising your already swollen mouth. He was wild, and you needed it and more. 

He pushed you down on your bed, and stood back to watch you for a moment. How did he never realize that you were so naturally beautiful? He looked down at you like a predator looking at his meal; fiercely, ready to ruin you and make you scream and beg and satiate his hunger. As well as yours. 

“Well, if you’re done staring…” you knelt on your bed and reached out for him, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him closer. “I want you in me. Now.” Your demanding tone riled him up. 

Bucky grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back again. “If you wanna get fucked, you’re gonna ask nicely. Understood?” 

You glared at him, shooting death glares right at him while your hand palmed him through his sweatpants. “I fucking hate you.” You spat at him, whimpering as he pushed you back down on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you this time. 

“I hate you too.” He knelt on your bed, straddling your waist as he tore your oversized shirt in half and off your body, throwing the pieces of fabric somewhere on your bedroom floor. You laid beneath him in just your underwear and he growled. 

“That was my favorite shirt, you fucking idiot.” You whispered, breathless, shivers dancing down your spine as he traced your mouth with his two fingers, slipping them past your lips once, then twice then trailing his now wet fingers down your neck, till your belly button. 

“You think I care?” he leaned down and took one of your breasts into his mouth, kneading the other with his metal hand. The contrast of his warm mouth around one and his cold hand around the other was driving you crazy. He bit, and tugged and licked; making your back arch off the bed as you purred in pleasure. 

Your hips moved on their own, grinding against his erection again to try and alleviate the pain. You were desperate. Bucky pinched and rolled one of your nipples while he lightly grazed the other with his teeth, and you let out a loud moan. 

“Please��� please, I need you. Please…” You muttered under your breath, knowing he could hear you. Bucky smirked as he pulled away from your chest, ignoring the way his cock throbbed. “What’s so fucking funny?” You grabbed him by the throat, pulling his face closer to yours. 

His metal arm reached down in between your legs and he ripped your underwear off. The fabric hurt just a little when it tore against your skin. “Just that it's the first time I heard you asking for something so politely. It’s not so hard after all, is it?” 

Now he was pissing you off. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and flipped the two of you around. You got on top of him and straddled his waist, trapping him under you like he had you before. You had better control like this. 

You grabbed him by the jaw and leaned in to kiss his lips, fiercely. “Stop fucking playing, Barnes.” You whispered against his lips, grinding against his hard cock again. He closed his eyes and hissed in pleasure as you kissed down to his neck, nibbling on his skin along his throat. 

He moaned, hands gripping your hips and guiding you as you rubbed your bare core against his clothed erection. “No? I thought brats liked games?” He mumbled. 

You pulled away from his neck and looked down at his smug face. “You are so fucking annoying.” You reached down in between your bodies and lowered his sweatpants all the way down until he kicked them off. You grabbed his cock and stroked him gently, agonizingly slow. He moaned shamelessly, and eventually caught on that you were just teasing him even more. 

“Don’t tease me…” he sounded just as breathless as you were. 

“Why? Not so fond of games anymore?” you sassed, rubbing your throbbing core against his thigh while you stroked him so gently that he felt like he was losing his mind. 

He growled as he grabbed you by the waist and flipped the two of you around, him being on top again. “Enough,” he growled in your ear, “Spread those legs for me.” He ordered, settling in between them as you spread your legs to accommodate him. He grabbed your thighs and parted your legs even more as he aligned the tip of his cock to your opening. “Now stay still, don’t move.” 

You braced yourself for him, but nothing could have prepared you for that. His length stretched you open until he was seated deep inside you, filling you up entirely to a point where you couldn’t even think of anything else other than him being balls deep inside you. 

You moaned as he removed himself entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear, “Fuck….” you heard him moan; panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. He kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you over and over again, making your eyes tear up. The burning need subsided a little bit as his cock brushed against all the right spots inside you. “Buck… faster, please,” You whimpered. 

He chuckled into your ear, “Needy little brat…” he mumbled as he sped up into you, making you lose your ability to focus on anything else other than him and his body. He pulled away from your face to look down at you, his metal hand coming up to wrap itself around your throat. “This is what you wanted since we left that lab, huh? For me to fuck your greedy little cunt? Hmm?” He taunted as he stretched you out completely. You lifted your legs up and wrapped them around his waist; allowing him to thrust deeper into you. 

You felt tears escaping your eyes as he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours fucking deeper into you. He was relentless; each moan which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough. 

You felt a pressure form in between your hips, your body begging for release. “Bucky… please.” You moaned, begging. For something, anything. You’d take anything at this point. But right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he pulled out. 

“Please what?” He surprised himself with how he was able to tease you in this situation when all he wanted was to make both of you cum over and over again. 

“I need to cum, Bucky please,” you cried, with tears in your eyes. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your swollen lips, not minding the tears. “Do you deserve it?” He asked, and you nodded immediately, your body shaking with how bad you needed to cum. “Oh you do, do you?” 

You nodded again. “Please…please...” 

“Well since you asked nicely…” Bucky flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his muscular body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again. 

He rocked into you from behind. His hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm against your lower abdomen. He liked how he could feel himself deep inside you with each thrust. And he liked how that drove you insane, he could by the way your walls gripped his cock. 

“Feel that, little brat? That’s all you’re good for… to take my cock like a good little slut.” He whispered. 

You groaned at the sound of his raspy voice, his words making you milk him even harder. “You wish, you dipshit.” You moaned as he sped up when you least expected it. You whimpered, and he chuckled now that he had you at his mercy. 

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he choked you gently as he bent down to whisper in your ear, “I can assure you that no one is ever gonna fuck you this good,” he boasted as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “Fuck… please....” you cried. 

You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. “Cum for me. Now.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. You came undone, hard and fast; moaning his name as you did. Bucky came right after you. 

You collapsed onto your bed, sprawled unevenly and not even caring. Your eyes were shut in fatigue, your heart racing and you could feel Bucky’s body heat right next to you. He was catching his breath too, mumbling something under his breath which you couldn’t catch. 

For the first time in hours, you felt at ease. Your body wasn’t yearning anymore, but the hunger was still there. So when Bucky got up to leave, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back into bed with you. 

He smirked as he fell helplessly onto your bed again, right next to you. “You want more, you greedy little brat?” 

You punched his arm before getting up and getting on top of him again, sliding your body down his cock. He hissed as you did. 

“Just another round.” You whispered, loving the sight of him under you. His tan skin against your white sheets, him moaning as you slowly lifted up and sank back down on his cock. Oh fuck… 

You placed your hands on his muscular chest to hold yourself up as you sped up, riding him like you’ve been dreaming of this whole time. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you up and down his cock until you both found a pleasurable pace. 

You weren’t going to last too long, but you just needed to have him buried deep inside you again. His thick, girthy cock stretched you open as you took him as best you could, moaning and whimpering desperately as he groaned and gasped under you. 

Your walls gripping him and milking him like they had earlier, not even a few minutes ago. You felt the pressure forming nicely in between your hips again. You let out a loud moan as you felt his cock reach places it hadn’t before, turning you into a mess. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he brought you down on his cock with force each time and thrusting upwards to fuck you deeper. “Cum for me.” He threw his head back, growling. “Cum for me again…” 

Your hand grabbed him by the jaw and you leaned in to press your lips against his, claiming his open mouth and muffling his animalistic growls as you came undone around him again. Your orgasm then triggered his. 

You fell limp on top of him right after and he instinctively cradled your head. “You okay?” 

You nodded, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other but neither of you minding it. “Yeah.” 

Bucky gently rolled to his side, letting you down on your side of the bed. You tried your best to calm your racing heart. Not to mention you felt much, much better than earlier. 

Bucky got up to leave again, and you grabbed his hand before he got completely out of your bed. He turned to face you with a smirk then groaned dramatically, “Woman please, I’m not a machine. The pain will subside now, I believe we’ve done pretty good at fucking it out of our systems. I can’t go all night, seriously.” 

You were in a haze so his words made you giggle. “You’re really leaving?” 

He looked down at you, sprawled on your bed. Your face was glowing, you looked ethereal. “You want me to stay?” He asked, wondering where the sassy brat in you went. 

You nodded. 

He smirked, getting back into bed next to you, “What, now you're obsessed with me?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying since I might need you again in the morning, you might as well just sleep here.”  

He pretended to be hurt. “Wow.” He didn’t mind that at all. He got under the covers with you, “So… is it just the chemicals or are we…?” 

You snuggled closer to his side, he wrapped his arm around you, tucking your head under his chin. “Shh, I still hate you.” Your tired, soft voice reminded him of a sleepy kitten. 

He held you closer. “Of course.” He looked down at you and saw that you had already fallen asleep on his chest. He cracked a soft smile, whispering under his breath, “Brat.” 

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[frostedfaves]

Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed. 

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

-

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

-

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hello! Can you write something with female Y/N and Chishiya? She helped him with something and is injured after that. She fell or burn her back or hit her head, but pretends that nothing happened since she think he doesn't care and the injury it's getting worst by days, Chishiya didn't notice at first and he just don't understand why Y/N is not talking with him but lets it go, then the day of game comes and they both have to play and Y/N faints few hours before registration. He is panicking suddenly aware of his own feelings towards her and he is SO worried and feels guilty. I hope you can add a lot of angst but fluffy end? I'm sorry if this is messy, english is not my first language 😭 Thank you!

Of course! And don’t worry your English is great 😊 I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Panicked Confession | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, Usagi, Ann, Hatter)

Summary: You get badly burnt while saving Chishiya in a game, but made sure he knew nothing about it. Just before leaving for the next game, you pass out and Chishiya finds you, causing him to panic

Warning: swearing, burn injury, vomiting, fainting

Word Count: 4.9k

*reader is female

“Shit! Guys come on!”

You, Chishiya, Kuina and Usagi rushed through the bottom floor of the building. Flames were curling in the air around each side of you, quickly closing in to eat you alive.

All four of you had almost completed the game, being the only players left after the last puzzle of the building. It was a diamond game, a game of intelligence. You were lucky to have been with Chishiya, as Diamonds games were his specialty.

You were all sprinting across the room, together in a tight pack so the flames don’t manage to touch you. You were panting, feeling your lungs collapsing in on themselves, but you had to press on. Only a few more steps before you could jump through the glass window at the end of the room, which was quickly being engulfed.

Suddenly, you saw Chishiya, who was running next to you, trip on a loose bit of debris laying on the ground inconveniently. You looked back and saw him holding his ankle in pain.

Of course, just your luck.

You all stopped abruptly, skidding along the floor and looking back to Chishiya in fear. He saw you all, his eyes widening.

“What are you doing?! Go!” he called out, wincing in pain.

You looked towards Kuina and Usagi, watching as thoughts spiraled around their heads to figure out what to do. The flame was too close behind Chishiya for it to be safe, if someone was to help him, they would have to risk their life doing so.

Both Kuina and Usagi shook their heads and looked away. They turned away from Chishiya and began jogging towards the window again. You froze. There’s no way they would just leave him like that.

“Guys!” You called out to them. They turned to you with fearful expressions painted on their face. “What are you doing?!” You asked, fear and worry dripping from your words. You had to make up your mind soon or you would be burned to a crisp.

Kuina motioned for you to come to her. “Y/N, there’s no time! We have to go!” you could tell she felt awful about this decision, but you weren’t giving up just yet.

You looked back at Chishiya laying on the ground. He was staring at you with a worried expression, wanting you to hurry up and leave him. You couldn’t leave a friend that easy to die. You had to at least try.

You let out a big sigh and lifted your aching legs to race towards Chishiya. He began yelling at you the moment you started running. “No, no, no! Go Y/N! What are you doing?!”

You ignored his shouting and quickly knelt down beside him to lift his arm around your shoulders. You weren’t going to lose anyone else, you promised yourself that after your friends died in the first game you played after appearing in the Borderlands.

Chishiya kept arguing and shaking his head as you tried to lift his body. He was surprisingly heavy for someone his size. “Y/N, go! There’s no time! You can’t save me!” he at screamed you, becoming more desperate with every plea.

You continued to ignore him and began dragging him along towards the window, where Kuina and Usagi were already working on breaking the glass with debris from around them. “You’re not going to off yourself that easily Chishiya as long as I have a say in it,” you rasped out, struggling to keep upright with the extra weight on your shoulders.

As your heart pounded in your ears and you felt the fire become hotter and hotter around you, you suddenly felt an incredibly sharp pain across your spine. The sensation spread all through your body, from your head to your toe, making you cry out and almost collapse to the ground, but you stayed strong.

Chishiya had given up arguing with you, using his good leg to take a bit of his body weight off your pained shoulders. With his help, you managed to move much quicker, limping and staggering your way towards Kuina and Usagi, who had broken the window and were now waiting for you to come, yelling at you to hurry up.

You didn’t look back; you didn’t want to see how close the flames were. You knew it would do nothing but make the situation worse.

As you neared the window, you slowed down as Kuina ran out to help you lift Chishiya up and out of the window. You were relying completely on adrenaline at that point, having lost all of your strength through running and carrying Chishiya.

You managed to lift yourself through the cracked window, earning a few cuts from the leftover glass on the way, and collapsed onto the grass ground below you. A large barrier from inside the room (probably manufactured for the games) closed over the destroyed window as you fell, being lucky to be the last out of the four of you to escape. The flames were locked in, unable to harm you.

The four of you laid on the grass, panting and trying to regain your breath. As your adrenaline calmed down, the pain of your large burn mark set in. You covered your face with your hand and silently screamed against it, trying to drown out the searing pain somehow. You couldn’t worry the others, not after what just happened.

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

The next couple of days was nothing but a struggle for you. As soon as you arrived back from the game, you stumbled your way to Ann’s medical room. She took a closer look at your burn wound, applying whatever she had to try and reduce the chance of it getting infected. But unfortunately, that didn’t reduce the pain.

After allowing Ann to wrap a bandage around your upper back to protect the wound, you slowly made your way back to your room on the upper floor. You didn’t want to rush yourself in case you made your wound worse, so you took your time in getting there.

Unfortunately, it was a bit too much time, as you managed to bump into Chishiya who popped out from around the corner. A small panic raised within you; you didn’t want Chishiya to see you like this! It’s embarrassing enough to like someone you had no chance with, but for them to see you stumbling and holding onto the wall because you can’t even keep yourself up? No, not today.

You stood more upright than before, giving Chishiya your best fake smile. “Hey Y/N,” he said, walking past you. You breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that wasn’t too bad.

You started to walk again before you heard Chishiya call out from behind you. “Oh, wait Y/N!”

You turned around, biting your tongue so you didn’t let out a yelp of pain as the skin on your back twisted with your movements. “Yeah?” you acknowledged him.

He gave you a half-hearted smile. “Thanks again, for earlier. I would’ve been a goner if you hadn’t risked your life like that for me,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. You’ve never seen him thank someone before, so you were shocked.

“Oh, it was no big deal! We should all help each other out, considering we haven’t really got anything else other than each other,” you said, smiling happily. You felt all giddy from him acknowledging the fact that you risked yourself for him.

“Yeah, but it was still pretty cool of you. Even Kuina and Usagi were willing to leave me there,” he chuckled as his own joke.

You laughed and shook your head at him. “I’m sure they were just doing what they thought was best for everyone else in the moment.”

Chishiya nodded and gave you a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then! Hatter let me know in the meeting this evening that you and I are together again. I’m glad though, because you seem to have the skill and brains to get through some tough games.”

You were flattered by his compliment. “Thanks, you too though! We would have burnt to a crisp if it weren’t for you during that diamond game tonight.”

The small talk was killing you. You just wanted to get back to your room and wallow in the silence that engulfed it. At least there, you could suffer from your burn wound a little louder than out in the public eye of The Beach.

Chishiya laughed at your statement. “No, I’m sure with you there it would’ve been fine,” he said back, making you smile wider.

“I’ll see you later then,” you exclaimed, waving a hand at him. He waved back with a grin on his attractive features before he turned around and continued down the hall with his hands tucked into their usual spot in his hoodie pockets.

You let out a big sigh of relief. That was close. You felt the pain seeping through your body the longer you stood there, hoping for Chishiya to just end the conversation. You felt guilty, it may have looked like you were trying to escape, since you were slowly backing towards the corner. Hopefully, he didn’t notice.

You stumbled the rest of the way towards your room, wincing and hissing in pain on the way. It felt like Ann didn’t do anything at all, but you couldn’t blame her. She had extremely limited resources and could only leave to search for more every few weeks.

When you finally made it to the door of your room, the familiar number engraved onto the middle of it, you gripped the handle and walked inside.

You collapsed onto your bed onto your stomach. There was no way you would be able to sleep on your back with this kind of pain, so you had to resort to either on your side or on your stomach.

Let’s just say, you had a restless sleep.

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

You were hoping after a night’s sleep that the pain from your back would have disappeared at least a little bit. But you couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything, it had become worse. You probably managed to roll onto it a few times during the night, reopening any part of the wound that had sealed up over the time you’ve had it.

It took you far too long to get out of bed in the morning. You groaned and moaned in frustration as you crawled your way out of the duvet, almost collapsing off your bed. You felt rather pathetic, but who wouldn’t after not being able to do the simplest of tasks from a wound.

As you were walking to your closet to look for something to wear, you remembered you had to go see Ann again that morning. She had told you last night to return to her medical room the next morning so she could reapply a new bandage onto you, in case the other one gets bacteria or blood on it during the night somehow.

You quickly put on your usual swimmers to wear around the hotel and the black hoodie that you wore most of the time when you got cold. You didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing your wound. The gaping burn mark across your upper back was bound to attract unwanted attention.

You made your way down the hall to go see Ann again. There was nobody in the halls around the rooms due to it being close to noon. You slept in longer than you expected.

You slowly walked down the couple of flights of stairs, making your way to Ann’s medical room on the lower floor. The walk down to the lobby felt longer at that moment than it ever had.

You approached the door with the red cross along the front of it, indicating the medical room. You were about to lift your hand to turn the doorknob before you heard a loud voice yell from further down the corridor.

You shifted your eyes and saw none other than Chishiya striding down the hallway with his usual cocky smirk painted across his face. Of course, you had to run into him out of all people.

“Y/N! Wait!” he yelled as he jogged up to you.

You stayed silent, waiting to hear what he had to say. You wanted to ignore him and just walk into the medical room to see Ann to avoid any kind of questioning or suspicion from him, but you knew that would only make him more curious.

“Hey, you alright?” he frowned, questioning you. He reached out to place a gentle hand on your forearm, but you flinched away before he could touch you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to sound normal. The piercing feeling that your wound brought you began to make its way around your body again, making you slightly shift and shake. ‘Of course, it just has its moment while I’m talking to the one person that I don’t want to look like a weakling in front of,’ you thought to yourself in your head.

Chishiya frowned at your flinch, but seemed to shake it off quickly, moving onto something else. “So anyway, where were you this morning?” he asked, leaning closer to you.

“I-I was in my room. I had a late sleep in,” you said, gripping the doorknob to the medical room.

“Oh, weird. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” he said with a smirk on his face.

‘Oh shit, he’s mocking my bad memory,” you thought, feeling embarrassed.

“Um… no? Should I?”

“You, Kuina, Alice, Usagi and I were going to meet up this morning to steal some food from the kitchen and take it to the rooftop. You didn’t show up near the pool where we said we were going to meet!” he exclaimed. He was laughing, obviously not caring too much about your forgetfulness.

You thought for a second. You did recall having that conversation. You guessed that you forgot about it because you were so focused on trying to reduce the pain from your burn. Even if you did remember, as if you would’ve been able to run away from the chefs in the kitchen after taking the food with this injury.

“Me and Kuina even knocked on your door. You must have been really knocked out if you didn’t wake up from Kuina’s loud yelling.”

He then raised his eyebrow and smirked. “Unless you were hiding from me?”

Your could tell he was obviously joking, but he wasn’t far off from being right. That has been your intention since last night, but trust Chishiya to figure you out quickly enough.

You heart rate picked up from his accurate accusation. “Uh, sorry Chishiya, but I really have to go,” you mumbled out, giving him a quick fake smile before walking into the medical room and closing the door behind you.

Chishiya’s mischievous smirk fell from his face. You didn’t even give him a chance to say goodbye, and you seemed oddly nervous from his accusation that you were avoiding him. He felt somewhat hurt. Were you trying to avoid him?

He shook off his suspicions and continued down the corridor to the lobby to find something to entertain him for the meantime. You wouldn’t try to avoid him, would you? Perhaps he’ll confront you about it later.

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

You were laying in your room reading a book when you heard the usual ring of the bell that was Hatter’s signal for everyone to move down to the lobby to prepare for the night’s games.

“Shit! Is it that late already?” you asked no one, glancing over at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You panicked and saw it was the time that you would head out to games. You said to yourself earlier that you would give yourself an early mark so you could get down there at the right time, considering you would be slow due to your condition, but you got distracted by your book and lost track of time.

You rushed to your feet a little too quickly for your body’s liking, causing the pain of your wound to shoot across your back without mercy, making you yelp in pain and fall forwards.

You managed to catch yourself before you face planted into the ground. You let out a few deep breaths, trying to regain your strength while the piercing pain became worse from your insistence.

You pushed yourself off the ground, placing your foot underneath you and attempting to stand to your feet. You had to make it to the cars at least, you knew if anyone found you at The Beach during game time, they would mark you a coward, or worse: a traitor.

You cursed under your breath and let out pained sobs as you tried to get to your feet again. But unfortunately, your body just wasn’t on your side at that moment.

Your feet gave out underneath you and your head pounded, causing you to feel dizzy and suddenly nauseated. You leant forwards as you emptied the contents of your stomach out onto the floor, gagging on the taste of it in the back of your throat.

Your eyes began to feel heavy, not being able to take the pain and stress you were under. You managed to roll yourself to the side so you wouldn’t land in the pile of vomit and lay yourself across the floor safely before you face planted.

“Fuck,” you rasped out, feeling helpless at that moment.

You couldn’t do anything as your vision narrowed, passing out from pain on the floor of your own room, no one around to help you.

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

“Hello again everyone! I would like to say a few words before we all get into our groups and drive to our games!”

Hatter’s usual booming voice thrusted across the crowd in front of him. Another night, another gathering. Just like every other day.

Chishiya stood at his usual spot in the back, leaning against the cement wall and rolling his eyes at Hatter’s words. He never seemed to have anything useful to say. Just some preachy words that created false hope.

‘How about for a change, he gave us some advice? It would probably spare some people a few headaches,’ Chishiya thought to himself.

He stood on his toes and tried to search the crowd for the top of your head. He was becoming anxious. You would usually be down in the lobby by now.

He was more nervous due to the way you’ve been acting all day. Usually, you two were joined at the hip twenty-four seven, but the only time he saw you that day was in the morning when you walked into the medical room.

He wondered why you were going in there. You never went to Ann unless it was for something drastic, but you seemed completely healthy and unharmed.

As the time ticked on, Chishiya became more and more worried. You would never skip out on a game; you were too afraid of being caught by the executives for that.

Hatter finished off his nightly speech with the list of groups and which number wristbands go where. Chishiya didn’t even care to pay attention as everyone began making their way towards the entrance of the hotel where they would pile into the cars and drive off to the games. He ran the opposite way, clambering up the flights of stairs to reach the level your room is on. If you had to be anywhere, it would be there.

He powered his legs into a sprint, having to brush his white locks out of his face once or twice due to them getting in the way. He eventually arrived at your room, stopping and panting to regain his breath.

He knocked on your door quietly at first, not knowing if you were asleep or something. “Y/N?” he called out through the door. “We need to head off to the games. Did you not hear the bell?”

When he received nothing but silence as an answer, he took it upon himself to walk in to see if you were there. He opened the door and peeked his head around the side, being careful in case you were indecent for some reason.

As he walked in further, his heart dropped as he saw you laying on the ground passed out.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, rushing over to your body and kneeling beside you. He lifted your head onto his lap gently and immediately checked your neck for a pulse. A small feeling of relief flowed through him when he felt the beat of your heart on his fingers.

“Oh my god Y/N, what’s happened to you?” he stressed, tapping your cheek with his hand to see if you would wake. He was beginning to become more worried as time ticked on. He glanced over at the clock on your nightstand and saw that it was getting later. He had to wake you up before registration closed for all the games.

He lifted you up from under your arms, using all his strength to pull you into your small bathroom. He placed you gently on the tiled floor, stuffing a towel underneath your head for support. He quickly shifted your body around, trying to look for any source of injury that caused you to pass out. He froze when he noticed a few stains of blood on the back of your hoodie. He quickly lifted the hem of your shirt to see what was causing the stains.

His eyes almost popped out of his head from the sight. He gasped at the huge burn wound on your back, stretching across from your shoulder blades to your waist. The bandage that Ann had wrapped around it had come loose, hanging off your abdomen carelessly. His heart filled with guilt as he examined it more closely. Why didn’t he look after you?

He immediately put two and two together and realized that you had probably passed out from the pain of the burn mark.

He stood up from his position on the floor and grabbed a small cloth from your towel rack, running it under the water from the tap. He knelt back down next to you and carefully placed the wet fabric against your wound. He was so afraid of hurting you, but he had to do what he could to make you better for the game.

“Oh, come on, please wake up Y/N,” he breathed out. Stress and anxiety filled his tone, making the air more tense.

“Please wake up, please be okay. I love you, please don’t die Y/N,” he suddenly felt small tears gathering in his eyes as he stood up quickly to refresh the cloth that he was using to clean the burn.

He felt his hidden feelings begin to pour out of his mouth. He couldn’t handle the strain seeing you like this was having on his emotions.

He brought the cloth back, but this time he turned you over slightly so he could place it on your face. Your eyes were still shut tightly, not showing any indication of opening.

Chishiya ran the fingers of his other hand along your cheek, tapping softly on your skin, hoping that you would wake up from the physical contact. He felt desperate. He has never felt this helpless before, not even in games.

He allowed his few tears to fall down his cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. “Please wake up, we have to go. Just wake up and I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled out with shaky breaths.

He didn’t know what else to do. He could do nothing but hope.

A few minutes passed with Chishiya just holding you and pressing the cold cloth onto your face, trying to make you open your eyes. And eventually you did.

Chishiya breathed in a huge sigh of relief when he saw your eyes flutter open slowly, dazed and confused. He smiled and kept the cloth pressed to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his chest for a close hug. You groaned loudly at the contact as Chishiya accidentally placed his hand on your wound.

“Chishiya, be careful,” you rasped out against his chest. He flinched away immediately and apologized.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, lifting you up under your arms again. You groaned, not being able to stand up on your own yet. Chishiya kept you close to his chest as you leant against him.

He managed to clean you up with you leaning most of your body weight on him. He helped you wash out your mouth and clean your teeth to get rid of the taste of vomit and reapplied the bandage that had fallen off your wound. He did it all with such care and concern, being afraid of hurting you or overwhelming you with anything.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the games?” you asked after you had finished rinsing your face.

“I noticed you weren’t at the lobby when Hatter called everyone, so I ran to your room and found you,” he answered, fixing your hoodie on your back from when he had to lift it to clean your injury.

“So, everyone’s gone?” you asked with a worried expression. Chishiya nodded, leaning on the sink next to you to check your face to see if you were alright.

“But if they find us, they’ll mark us as traitors!” you exclaimed, fear filling your head.

Chishiya placed his index finger on your lips to shush you. “Shh, only if they can hear us. We can just stay in here and be quiet, and hopefully no one suspects that we’re missing,” he said, smiling to calm you down.

You searched his eyes for any uncertainty but chose to let it go and just listen to him. “Okay.”

You both sat side by side on the floor of your small bathroom, Chishiya running his hand up and down your arm to keep your anxiety away. After a while of comfortable silence, you spoke up.

“Thanks, Chishiya, for helping me. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lying on the ground next to a pile of my own puke,” you laughed at yourself.

Chishiya giggled. “It’s okay. I care about you Y/N, I couldn’t just leave you there.”

You looked at him with sparkling eyes, being taken back by his statement. “Really?” you asked, not believing him.

He smiled lovingly and caressed your cheek with his fingers. “Of course, I’d do anything if it was to help you.”

You thought you would have a cute moment together, but that flew out the window when Chishiya slapped you lightly across the cheek. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to bring a shocked expression onto your face.

“But next time, tell me when you’re hurt instead of trying to hide it from me like an idiot! You really think you’d be able to hide something like this from me?” he scolded you like a mother, but you giggled at his reaction.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you next time. Why did I ever think I could keep something from someone with an intelligent mind like yours,” you teased, leaning closer to his face.

Chishiya raised his eyebrows. “Hm, thanks, I guess? Not sure if that was a compliment or if you’re poking fun at me.”

You chuckled. “Take it however you want,” you whispered. You finally closed to space between you, allowing your lips to clash against his. Chishiya let out a shocked sound, but quickly melted against you and accepted your kiss.

You both sat on the floor of your bathroom, moving your mouths together while Chishiya tried hard to place his hands on you without touching your burn mark. You appreciated his care, but he ended up having to awkwardly place them on your upper arms, rubbing up and down them slowly.

You pulled away first, making Chishiya chase your lips as you moved away, making you giggle. “There’s my thank you gift,” you said cheekily, leaning away from him and back into your seating position.

Chishiya pouted at you. “That’s it? That was barely a kiss!” he argued, trying to move closer to you, wanting more of your affection.

“Chishiya, your tongue was in my mouth. I think that clarifies as a kiss,” you stated, placing your hand on his mouth and pushing him away gently. “Maybe let down that tough guy persona more often and take care of me, maybe then you’ll get more kisses.”

Chishiya leaned back and frowned. “Fine, but don’t expect this to be the norm now. I’m not going to let you control my personality just for a bit of affection.”

Well, that was a lie.

Author’s Note: Every Chishiya fanfic I’ve written has had some sort of angsty moment in it 😂 this man is going through it

[georgiapeach30513]

MAAM… STEVE??? AND BUCKY??????

Plz elaborate for the class

LISTEN! If ever Steve and Bucky are in ANY of my fics, please note, they have shared and/or been together themselves. It's an unspoken rule. But since you're so excited....we can go into the past of when they shared. Just for shits and giggles, this is going to be a reader insert.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

How You Make A Woman

Summary:  Steve and Bucky are SHOCKED

Pairings:  Steve Rogers X Brooklyn!Reader X Bucky Barnes

Rating:  explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, PIV sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), slapping, pinching, biting, spit roast, cream pie, degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.6K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Revisit Desperate Affairs Masterlist

You laugh at some stupid joke that Steve had told you, your back up against Bucky, legs draped over Steve’s and just having your friendly Friday night drinking with the boys. “So you’re telling me that a girl from Brooklyn, can’t find her a man to treat her right?”

You scoff sparing a quick glance at Bucky, “They’re all the same, big promises about their amazing game, and it’s just mediocre. Not even worth my time honestly. I can do better all by myself,” Steve raises an eyebrow at you, but laughs anyway. “What about you two? No ladies on the horizon waiting to scoop up the future Dr. Rogers and Dr. Barnes?”

“Wait...wait,” Bucky starts, he noticed that quick change from yourself to them. “Who is the best you’ve ever had?” you mumble out a bunch of nonsense, and shrug. “Come on, everyone has that someone that was just, boom.”

“Yeah, again, I do better all by myself.”

“Brooklyn?” Steve’s eyes slowly look up at you, a bit of pity laced through those pretty blue green eyes. “Which one made you cum?” while you’ve known these two your whole life, this is definitely not something you want to talk about. When you start to get up Bucky pulls you back down. “Brook, answer the question.”

“Don’t have to.”

“Well, that tells us everything we need to know. You don’t like sex, because you’ve been with assholes that made everything about them huh?” your eyes look down at your bottle of beer, not speaking, which tells Bucky everything. With the alcohol running wild in all three of your veins, and Bucky being a cocky son of a bitch anyways, you already know, the sinful thoughts running through his brain.  Because you’ve had those thoughts on more than on occasion.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that...? Brooklyn, it’s a huge deal,” he adjusts himself on the couch, and pulls your head back to where you’re gazing up at him. “Brooklyn?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is with sex anyways,” you try to pull your body off of him, but he holds you tight. “What?”

“You haven’t had good sex, and it shows,” Steve responds. He scoots a bit closer to your body, and you can’t deny the heat that pools in your core. Your body starting to tingle, when Bucky’s hand rubs down the column of your neck. Timidly Steve’s hand rubs along your knee, but he stops. His eyes looking in front of him.

"It’s because I jumped into. I didn’t have fireworks. It works better, I’m sure, with someone you’re comfortable with.”

Bucky’s hands start massaging your shoulders slowly, laughing when you release a desperate mewl. “Admit it, you’ve never had a man make you orgasm,” you just give him a quick shrug, but he grips tighter to your shoulders.

“I’m sure I have.”

“Oh, sweet Brooklyn girl,” Steve coos, his body fully twists around, and both his hands rest on your knees, slowly sliding up your thighs, before back down. Each time getting higher, but not high enough. “You would know if you had. You’ve just had shitty dick.”

With just a whisper of a kiss, Bucky presses his lips against your temple, “W-w-well, I don’t see anyone knocking my door down.”

“We could help you out,” Bucky speaks so softly in your ear. Chills run up and down your spine, and Steve’s hands journey further north just a little bit more. “You know us, you’re comfortable with us. I bet we could make you feel real good without ever putting a cock in that pretty pussy.”

“‘S not,” you choke out, but can’t even finish when those sinful lips kiss up your neck.

“Oh it is, Brook. I can feel your warmth radiating off of you. Will you let me and Stevie take care of you? Show you how a man is supposed to make a woman feel?” your speechless and unmoving, but with the way the two of their hands roam over your body, you can’t help it, but with no words of confirmation, the two stop their motions, and start to pull back.

“Don’t stop,” your voice chokes out when you miss the feeling of their hands on your skin.

“What is it you want Brooklyn?” Steve shifts his weight to where he’s hovering over you. “You have to tell us sweetheart.”

“I want you to show me, but...”

“We’re just friends,” Bucky reminds you. Famous last words. When you answer that you’re ready, the two of their hands start kneading your body. Bucky still stays behind you, turning your head to ghost his lips over your cheeks. Getting lower, until slotting those pouty lips against yours. his hands roam to your tits, as they grope and tweak your nipples.

Steve’s fingers connect to your jeans, slowly undoing your button, his eyes never leaving you and Bucky before sliding them off. Bucky’s hand drifts down your body, and under the elastic of your panties. Moaning in your mouth when he roams your folds. “You’re fucking soaked Brook,” his voice gravelly and raw on your lips. “Get them offa her,” he grunts to Steve.

Still those tender motions of sliding the cotton off of you. Too much clothes still separate you and Bucky. Your hands go to remove your own shirt, and bra, “Wanna feel you,” you pant before he yanks his own shirt off. Once situated, Steve spreads your thighs, gazing at your drenched sex. His fingers spread around your arousal, giving a little pinch to your bundle of nerves, before sliding two fingers into your tight channel.  His thumb creating tight circles on your clit.  Your body naturally rocks with his motions, while Bucky is dominating your mouth.

Steve even stops his fingers.  Watching you continue to grind over his hand.  "You've needed this Brook.  Buck, watch her fuck my fingers," with a bite to your lip, Bucky pulls away.  Taking in the rolling of your hips over Stevie.  "You're so needy, sweetheart.  You think you can get off like this?" nodding your head quickly, they both chuckle at you.  "My fingers feel better than yours?"

"Yes, Stevie.”

"Gonna let us fuck you?" nodding, you work yourself harder over him.  Bucky squeezes tightly to your nipples and doesn't let go.  His teeth nipping along your shoulder, eyes still on your cunt sucking Steve's fingers back in.  Your hips start stuttering when you feel your belly heat up, but Bucky grabs your hips, forcing you to fuck Steve’s fingers through your orgasm.  "How did that feel?"

"Good.”

"I think we're done for the night," Bucky takes a hard bite of your neck, giving it a little suck, and you slap at his leg.  "You think you can handle more?"  giving him a nod, he pushes you off of him to your knees, gazing down at your puffy cunt, his own hand running through your folds before diving face first.  Messily eating your cunt like it's his last meal.  Your body squirming as he works you over.  Yelping when Steve starts to undress, and his cock bounces up to slap those heavenly thighs.  His tip angry and leaking, when he walks closer to you.  

His thumb rubs against your lips, before he pushes his length through.  Sliding all the way in, until his cock, cuts off your airways, "Breathe through your nose Brook, you're a big girl, you can handle this," removing himself you choke for air.  Your lungs on fire, as your eyes roll up to meet his.  "Good girl, sweetheart.  Buck, put her out of her misery and split her open.  She's a needy little thing."

Bucky's face glistening with your juices leans back to watch Steve face fuck you, while he undresses, whining when you can't fully see him the way you did Stevie, gets you a slap on your ass from Steve.  Still choking on his cock he leans over your body watching your pussy clench around nothing.  Letting a dribble of spit ooze down your slit.  "Didn't need that Stevie boy," Bucky's hand hold tight to your hip, his other running his blunt head through your folds, before sliding in.  Stopping only when he bottoms out, "Got her leaking on the couch already."

You can't speak when you're so full of Steven Grant Rogers, and you need Bucky to move.  Your body on edge, you push back over him, "See, such a needy little bitch, aren't ya," Steve gives you another smack.  When Bucky's hand grips the other hip, you know it's time.

The of them rut into you from both sides, and your body is in such a peaceful overwhelming state.  Tugging and pulling both of their cocks into you, while you're a drooling mess.  Not even caring about anything, but feeling free in this moment.  Letting your two best friends use your body in any way that they want.  Bucky pounds into your mercilessly.  Grunting that he'd take you apart slowly next time.  Next time?  Even Steve made a comment about it.  

The two of them so entuned with the other, their thrusts get sloppy at the same time.  "FUCK, Brooklyn!" Bucky shouts at you, struggling to hold on for your own release.  His hand slides down to stimulate your bundle of nerves, and that's all it took.  Your orgasm rushes through your limbs.  Cunt squeezing tightly to Bucky, and his warmth paints your walls.  Steve takes one more hard and deep stab into you, and his spend spurts into the back of your throat.  Feeling so full and spent from the two of them.

"And that's, how you make a woman orgasm, Brook," Bucky and Steve give themselves a high five.  Still such children.  The two of them, taking their time the rest of the night.  Playfully fondling you, riding on top of Stevie, sixty-nine-ing with Bucky, having your ass stretched out by Stevie, all of it blissful.  That should have been the end.  And it was...with Steve.

Masterlist

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[bakumu-archive]

maybe its true

denki kaminari x reader

wc: 1.4k

summary: you know denki loves you, so why do you feel so alone?

cw: hurt/comfort, depressive thoughts, being alone, tickling, fluff, mentions of food

a/n: this ones been in my drafts for a month. does this count as an apology for being mean to him in my baku bday fic? shout out to my wonderful beta reader, @winniethepoohloathesyou​ you're the best  ♥

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

You know that Denki still loves you. 

It's written all over his face as he tells you all about his new video game obsession. How his eyes light up showing you all the progress he's made, and all the things he wants to do. He loves to talk to you about the things he loves because he loves you too.

You can see it in his eyes in the way that he jumps to help you with the dishes when you ask him to, washing the dishes while you get dinner started before he makes his way back to the game room. 

You can hear it in his voice when he talks to you, cracking jokes and being playful with you to dispel the sorrow that he can see hidden in your eyes. 

And he's good at loving you too. He knows how to hold you just right, how to give you the perfect forehead kisses, and how to smile at you so that your heart flutters every time.

So why do you feel so sad? So alone? 

You know you shouldn't feel like this. Your brain is being irrational, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. That the pain you feel of being pushed away isn't valid.

Because he comes to bed later and later each night; some nights not crawling under the covers until the sun is already up. The evenings you used to spend cuddling on the couch watching anime are now spent alone while he sits at his computer. The way everything he does is only done so he can go back to his games faster. Dinner is eaten later and later each night, until it’s 10 p.m. and the food has long since gone cold. The way he doesn't touch you like you need him to anymore, and if he does, it’s only because you begged him.

Is it enough that he loves you? Shouldn't you be his number one source of happiness? Why does he have to seek out and spend all his time away from you? Why aren't you enough? 

It’s a stupid thought, one that you always fight as soon as it appears, because you know where it lead. But maybe it is true.

Maybe you are just being annoying. Trying to drag his attention away from things that make him happy. Being selfish and needy trying to consume all of him time.

But shouldn't you alone be able to make him happy? Are you not good enough anymore?

You try and push the thoughts away, but they are too loud and incessant.

And besides, you know what he would say if you brought it up to him. What he always says when you bring it up.

"I work all day and just want to play my games and relax when I get home. It has nothing to do with you, I love you, I just need to clear my mind."

The phrasing never sits right with you: are you not relaxing to be around? Does your presence in his life annoy him to the point where he has to play video games to escape you?

Stupid, stupid thoughts. Obviously, you don't annoy him like that. But it still stings. Still hurts.

You roll over in your dark bedroom, checking the time on your phone, blinded by the illuminated screen momentarily.

2:05 a.m. 

Denki stayed up until 5:40 a.m. last night and woke up at 10 this morning. Thank god, it's a weekend, but he has to be getting tired by now, right?

You debate going to talk to him or just staying wrapped in the warmth of your blankets. Either way could end up with you sad and disappointed so you might as well make sure he hasn't fallen asleep in an awkward position. The last thing he needs is to have a sore neck and back.

You make your way through the dark house before peaking your head into the game room. Denki looks up from his screen and sends you one of his big smiles. Your heart instantly feels lighter but you can't hide the sadness in your voice as you speak.

"Are you coming to bed soon?"

His eyes grow wider at the crack in your voice, before he looks back down at his game. His mind seems to be racing and calculating, before he speaks. 

"You know, I really wanted to get this done today. I've been trying to get it just perfect. Just a few more minutes and I'll be in. I promise, babe."

You try and hide the selfish hurt in your eyes. You knew this would be the outcome, it was foolish to even come ask. 

Your lip quivers trying to hold in the pain and you mumble, "Okay, Denks. I'm going to go to sleep now. See you in the morning."

You leave, turning to go back to your room. The bed that you share with him will be cold on his half yet again as you fall asleep, but at this point you should be used to it, right? 

You are almost to the bedroom door, too wrapped up in your own feelings to notice the sound of feet moving toward you at a fast pace. His body slams into yours and you jump as arms wrap around your waist and Denki envelops you in his arms. He gives you a firm kiss on the cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. 

"You looked too cute to be going to bed alone. I wouldn't want anyone to snatch you up before you got there, it's dangerous out here you know."

"In our own hallways? Shouldn't some pro-hero be here protecting us?" You sigh and roll your eyes at him as you lean into his embrace, enjoying it while it lasts.

He snuggles his nose into your neck before responding, “You are so right, I really need to call someone about the patrol routes.”

His hands move down to your hips slowly as he speaks again, “There have been sightings around here of a tickle monster on the loose. I would hate to see him get his hands on you.”

His fingers start to twitch at your sides.

You try to give him a warning, “Denki, don't you—” but you were too slow. His fingers dance over all of your most sensitive areas, tickling you until you laugh and plead for him to stop, but the noise just bounces off the walls all around you, falling on deaf ears. 

His grasp eventually falters and your squirming body is eventually able to break free, making a run for the bedroom, but Denki is close on your heels. You jump onto the bed and grab a pillow to hold above your head as a weapon to defend yourself. 

“Woah, woah, ok I didn't know that we kept weapons in here,” Denki laughs as he sees your fighting stance. “I'll turn myself in.”

He takes a running jump to the bed and belly flops onto the mattress with a force so large you almost fall off. He rolls over and looks up at you before opening his arms and motioning you to cuddle with him.

You flop into his embrace, snuggling into his chest as he starts to pet your hair. Both of your breathing slowly returning to normal after your battle. 

Denki gives your forehead a soft kiss before he's angling your chin up so he can look you in the eyes.

“Babe, I’m really sorry I haven't been paying attention to you. How about tomorrow morning I make those special pancakes you love so much and we can talk about it more then?”

Your body perks up a bit. “The ones with the whipped cream?”

“Yep,” he closes his eyes looking smug before he peaks one eyes open at you, “including the secret sauce.”

You let out a small ouh before snuggling into him closer, getting comfortable in the bed that finally has the warmth you've been denied for so long, a small smile appearing on your face.

He reaches down to your hand and entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into your soft skin before he looks at you again, eyes swimming with love and regret.

“You're my everything, my whole world. You know that, right?”

You smile back at him, nodding before burying your face in his chest, getting more comfortable and warm by the second.

You know that you need to have a bigger conversation with him, but that can wait until tomorrow because right now you just need to bask in this feeling, of being surrounded by his love.

As you drift off to sleep you hear him, “Good night, Y/N. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Denks.”

thanks for reading :)

send me an ask to be added to my taglist!  @matchamintmochi @unlimitedpastapass @eijirosriot

[hubbie22]

Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

[mercy-burning]

Second Nature

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Reader share some realizations after one of them has been kidnapped. Category: FLUFF + ADDITIONAL SMUT ENDING (18+) Warnings: Language, brief mentions of kidnapping and injury, bruising, sex (penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, lowkey hand kink—i’m not sorry) Word Count: 6.1k

Full Request: “...Congratulations on your 1k! I have  request for your celebration, if possible. Spencer/Fem Reader. Post prison Spencer, instead of him being taken by the cult, the reader is, making hi realize that she’s Love of life and they get together. Smut,preferred, if possible. Thank you.” — @dreatine 

NOTE: I had a little conversation with @ssa-m-187 about a post which discussed that trope where Person A caresses Person B’s cheek, and then Person A leans into their touch and holds their arm to keep them there for comfort.. I mentioned that I might add it into one of my requests, and this is where it ended up! 😂❤

I also decided to add an alternate/additional smut ending in case anyone wanted only the fluff. It will be clearly marked when the smut starts if you choose not to read it!

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

Nothing bad ever happened to her. Spencer wished that was an exaggeration but it wasn't. In all the years he'd known Y/N, she was never kidnapped, no one she loved ever got kidnapped, and she never even got sick. Her moods were always visibly happy, no one had ever seen her with so much as a sprained ankle, and even bad hair days always seemed to escape her grasp.

So naturally, when she got taken by Ben's Believers, it came as no shock that Spencer was losing his mind.

Everyone kept telling him that they'd get her back, and that they all knew what to do, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling that weighed his heart down, far away from the surface where she was safe and waiting for him.

Guess it's safe to say, this whole situation stirred up some feelings he hadn't even known existed.

The first thing that came to his mind, aside from the initial shock of her being gone, was the first moment they met.

Y/N and Ashley Seaver had both been added to the team around the same time, and after losing Emily, the three of them had practically become inseparable. But that first meeting, the very second he laid eyes on her, it was something purely magical.

She was trying to open a jar of pickles in the break room, breathy and aggravated curses spilling from her mouth as if she were a sailor.

"Do you need any help?" Spencer asked, not intending to scare her.

But alas, she jumped, dropping the jar of pickles and causing it to shatter everywhere. "Shit!"

He offered to help clean it up, and she accepted, sighing about how everything she had was going to smell like pickles for at least a week. And once everything was picked up, she grabbed a pickle that had landed on the counter and took a bite, promptly saying, "Well, at least I got it open," with a mouth-full of pickle. "Thanks for scaring me, bud."

It was amusing to say the least.

And every time they'd gone out for food since then, Spencer made sure to order something with a pickle every time, just so he could offer it to her and hear her laugh about that day. Every time, she mirrored that moment, taking a bite and saying, "Thanks, bud."

Of course, back then he hadn't realized he did it because he liked her. He just thought it was nice to see her smile, to hear her laugh. That's what friends did, right? Made each other laugh?

That's what kept him going as they searched high and low for answers to get her back. Her laugh. It was there, replaying on a loop in his brain as if he could ever forget it.

And when he got her back, he vowed to make sure he made her laugh for the rest of time.

When they knew where to find Y/N, Spencer made it his mission to be the one who got her out of there. He wanted to be the one she saw when she was being rescued. He wanted to be the one who made sure she was finally safe again and out of harm's way.

And most importantly he wanted to tell her that he loved her. And he didn't want to spend another day without being next to her.

But first he had to get her out of there.

The second he saw her, it was like everything moved in slow motion. She was strapped to some type of mechanism that kept her hands at her sides and her head facing forward. And despite the fact that she'd never been held hostage, she looked very calm. She looked like exactly what the cult wanted her to be: a sacrifice.

It made Spencer's stomach churn. And it felt even worse when they moved in. Because everyone was getting down, and the cult leader jumped for Y/N, striking to kill.

The gunshot stunned him. He stopped in his tracks, hoping and praying that she wouldn't be hurt, and for one final time before he actually moved, he replayed her laugh in his mind. He briefly held on to the image of Y/N smiling at him without a care in the world before he inevitably saw her face to face for the first time in days, most likely without said smile.

But of course, the second it was safe and he ran to her side, she looked up at him and smiled anyway.

As Emily got the final restraints off of her, Spencer took a huge sigh of relief and welcomed Y/N into his embrace.

"Hey, bud," she breathed into his neck, letting him squeeze her tightly. He could practically feel her smile burning into his skin, tattooing itself there for all the world to see, and he squeezed her tighter, thinking of how he wouldn't have it any other way.

They clung to one another the whole plane ride home, curled up into each other and falling asleep after all the stress they'd been under. And it was no surprise to anyone that they even held hands while they did.

Y/N dreamt of him the entire time.

Specifically, she was remembering the day she almost quit. It would have surprised anyone to know she'd felt that way considering she never let her bad days show. But in those particular few months, she had really missed her family—and Ashley,—the cases were getting more and more stressful, and it all seemed to really take a toll on her emotionally.

But that one fateful day, she walked into the round table room, expecting to find no one since she always showed up early, and instead she found Spencer with a large wicker basket.

"What are you doing here so early?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled shyly. "Oh, um... I know your birthday was last week, and I feel bad I missed it since I was visiting my mom, so... I wanted to celebrate with you when we had a little bit of time."

He handed her the basket, and she marveled at all its contents, ranging from a few of her favorite books in different copies she hadn't owned, an array of her favorite candies, and most exciting, a jar of pickles.

"Oh, before you break the jar, I have something else for you," he said with a small laugh, pulling something out of his jacket pocket. "I've read that these are good for helping you open jars, and I even got myself one because we all know you're way stronger than me, so if you can't open a jar of pickles, I probably couldn't either..."

She would never know this, but in that moment he was kicking himself for being so awkward, even though the two of them had been friends for years. And he'd never know, but she hadn't even recognized it as awkward. She was incredibly thankful and endeared by his thinking of her, and it was the one thing that made her realize she could never quit her job.

She loved him too much too leave.

So she didn't. That morning she'd been planning on telling everyone her plans to find another job somewhere else, maybe closer to her family, and that night she walked out of the office feeling loved and thankful for her friends, and one friend in particular.

Currently, said friend was sitting quietly in the parking lot of her apartment while she dug up the courage to ask him inside for the night. Her plans consisted of sleeping in for as long as she needed thanks to a well-deserved few days off of work, and though Spencer would most likely return earlier, she desperately hoped she could convince him to stay.

It was quiet for a while and the lights in the car had long since turned off, leaving them in darkness as well as silence. Despite that fact, it wasn't eerie in the slightest... It was comfortable.

Even more so when Y/N reached over and grabbed his hand.

And then she spoke.

"Can... Can you stay? I'm fine, I promise, I just... I could really use some company, you know?"

"Of course," he answered almost too quickly. It made her laugh, and though it was small, he felt a weight lift off his chest at the sound.

The two of them walked up to her apartment in more of that comfortable, dark silence. The only light source to be found was within the dim lights of the hallway, though they'd made the walk so many times it was like second nature.

That familiarity followed them through her doorway, Y/N taking off her jacket and instinctively handing it over with her to-go bag, where Spencer's arms were already outstretched. He took them and removed his shoes, then transported their belongings to the chair in the corner of her living room, maybe five or six steps ahead from the entryway.

Y/N took a large breath and smiled as she flipped on the lights.

Spencer noticed, turning to her with a smile of his own. "Good to be home?"

"Mhm," she responded with a nod. "But you know what would make it even better?"

The knowing smile they shared brought warmth to her chest as he made his way to the kitchen, saying, "Peppermint hot chocolate, coming right up."

As her best friend made noise in the kitchen, Y/N padded over to her couch, flipping on the table lamp next to it and sitting down with an over-exaggerated humph. Her legs curled off to the side as she leaned against the armrest, taking a deep breath and breathing in the warm comfort of home, only amplified a little while later by the aroma of soft peppermint.

She could hear Spencer humming quietly to himself in the kitchen, the sound bringing a smile to her face. He always absentmindedly hummed her favorite song when he was making them food or something to drink, or even when they were just hanging out together in comfortable silence. She wondered often if he ever sang it to himself when he was alone.

And she was going to ask, but before she got the chance, he came up behind her with two mugs of hot chocolate. She took hers gladly with a smile that perfectly matched the warmth of the mug. And while she took the first sip as he walked around the couch and took his regular spot on the cushion next to hers, that warmth spread to her chest. She sunk into the couch as her eyes fluttered closed.

Beside her she could hear Spencer laugh. "That good, huh?"

"You're an expert hot chocolate maker, don't let anyone tell you any different."

Another laugh came from him, and the sound bought warmth to other places.

They sipped their hot chocolate together, once again basked in silence that was only disrupted by the distinct ticking of Y/N's cuckoo clock, a Christmas gift from Spencer one year after she'd mentioned how much she was oddly fascinated by them. It sat on the wall across from them, next to the TV and right above a DVD rack with her favorite movies. She stared at the clock fondly as she drank her way through the hot chocolate, and Spencer did the same.

Eventually they were out, and once their mugs were placed on either side table, they found themselves turning to each other with more of that second nature pulling them together like the moon pulling the ocean. Once their knees touched it was like the ocean dragged them under, only rather than suffocating, they found themselves breathing easier, like they were finally at peace.

The clock rung out, and only after it finished echoing did Spencer initiate conversation. He examined the bruise right under her eye, and once again the gravitational pull was too much, his hand reaching out to touch it with curiosity as well as concern. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need some ice or anything?" he asked softly.

Y/N felt her heart stutter at the featherlight touch of his fingertips, and despite herself, she blushed. "No, I'm okay. Better now that I'm home. With you."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers at her words, and the softness and genuine relief he found in them made him melt.

He moved to take his hand away, but Y/N reached up and gently grabbed his wrist, bringing it back to her face pacing his palm firmly against the whole surface of her cheek. He watched lovingly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand further, bringing her hand to wrap around his forearm and hold him there. And in that moment, he had to wonder if she could hear the loud, intense beating of his heart as it drowned out the clock's ticking.

"I... I was so scared," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes closed. "I mean... In the back of my mind I knew you guys would come for me, but... That was... my first time ever being in a hostage situation by myself, let alone at all, and I..." She paused, stumbling on her words before exhaling a breathy laugh. "Those people were creepy."

Spencer laughed with her, his hand still resting on her face. When she finally did open her eyes again, she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and in that moment she looked so soft and vulnerable that he couldn't help but finally tell the truth.

In a whisper so soft she almost didn't hear it, he confessed, "I was so afraid that I lost you..."

"Yeah, but... You found me," she returned with a smile as she nuzzled into his hand further. "You always do."

Something in the way she said it made him bolder, and he realized then that that's what she always did.

She strengthened him, made him more bold and determined... And she gave him something to hold onto when he was lost. When things felt impossible, Y/N always said the one thing that put him back together and made him feel whole again, whether it was a few sentences, or in this case three little words: "You always do."

Completing him was her second nature, something he wasn't even sure she was aware of.

But now that he knew, he had to tell her.

"Y/n..." Spencer traced his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip, and he could have swore he felt her sigh out. He stayed paused, reveling in the way he seemed to have an effect on her, his thumb longing to slide further and trace her entire mouth.

Nevertheless, he continued. "You are... Everything to me. And I don't tell you very often how much your friendship means to me, but I... I can't keep going forward without you knowing just how much I care about you. Really, it..." He huffed a laugh, hoping he wasn't making an utter fool of himself and that she wouldn't push him away at this confession that was dying to escape. "It's embarrassing how much I love you."

He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion taking hold of him, or the relief he felt at finally getting that off his chest, but he held his breath as he studied her eyes, which were glassy like she was on the verge of tears. Her grip around his forearm tightened and she turned, kissing the inside of his palm and keeping her lips pressed there for what felt like forever, until he started to feel his skin go numb. Realistically he knew it was only a trick on the brain, how such a simple affectionate gesture like that had the most heart-swelling and mind-numbing effects on him because of how much he loved her.

But damn it, he didn't care.

She murmured his name into his palm, and her eyes flicked up to meet his again. That's when he noticed a tear fall from her eye and down her cheek, right into the side of his thumb.

Finally, she responded, "I love you, too, Spencer. I... I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to tell you, but... After what just happened, I don't know if I could ever spend another day without loving you."

His heart absolutely burst at the seams, warmer than before, and most certainly not from the hot chocolate. That warmth only spread, turning into a raging wildfire when she let go of his hand and moved forward, practically tackling him and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him and pressing her face to the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around her back, hugging her close as she straddled him and continued to nuzzle into his skin, his presence...

They held each other like that for a good minute before Y/N finally gained the courage to pull back and look into his eyes. They were just as glassy as hers, just as filled with love and comfort and home as she could ever have dreamed. Her hands slid down to rest on his shoulders for a moment before one of them cradled his face.

And then she kissed him.

She knew he loved her, he told her as much, but in case this was already going too far, Y/N kept it light and hesitant, desperately hoping it wouldn't make things weird.

But of course, there was nothing to worry about. And Spencer showed her that as his lips pressed deeper into hers, his hands on her back pushing her closer to him and seeking as much contact as possible.

She brought both of her hands to gently run through his hair, and at the sigh he let out against her mouth, Y/N tugged harder, pulling herself up so she could get into a better, more comfortable position on his lap.

They shared peppermint hot chocolate kisses until the clock rung out again, both of them pulling away with a little surprise.

"Has it really been an hour since it last went off?" Y/N mused in a whisper, taking in the swollen state of Spencer's mouth. The sight sent a course of butterflies through her stomach.

"I guess it has... It's um... It's late, maybe we should get some sleep."

"Only if you come with me," Y/N offered, running her fingers through his hair once more.

Spencer nodded with a small smile, his thumb tracing the bottom of her chin. "Of course."

They pulled themselves off the couch and, hand-in-hand, navigated their way to her bedroom. And even though they'd never actually done it before, sleeping in her bedroom together, the whole journey was so familiar it was like they'd done it a million times over.

SMUT ENDING BELOW

Y/N didn't know what time it was, only that the sun was brightly peeking through her sheer curtains, basking her bedroom in a warm glow that made it almost impossible to be comfortable under the covers. When she moved to take them off of her, she felt a hand snake around her waist, pressing firmly against her lower stomach and holding her in place.

"Are you awake?" she asked aloud to the air, softly in case Spencer was, in fact, still asleep.

"Mhm," he mumbled behind her, his breath softly fanning out across her shoulder. "Have been for about an hour."

"You could have woke me up," she said, turning around to face him. His hand lifted and then settled on her shoulder when she was in position.

"You deserved the rest," is all he offered in explanation as his hand gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. It tickled as it fell behind her, dropping off her body and across the back of her neck. Spencer trailed his fingers lightly up her neck until they reached her ear, and then he trailed them back down and over the curve of her shoulder, and then down her arm. He continued this and smiled as he took notice of the goosebumps that formed all over her skin. The thin tank top she'd changed into before bed left most of her exposed, each little freckle and hair that adorned her skin on display in the warm sunlight.

Meanwhile she smiled, heat slowly rising to her cheeks as she recalled their kisses on the couch. Needless to say, her dreams that night were rather scandalous, something she wasn't unfamiliar with, though given these new circumstances she was more than a little hot right now.

Spencer noticed, his hand halting its movement on her skin and resting itself on her waist over the blanket. "You're thinking about it, too? Last night?"

Y/N looked him in the eye and swore she saw them dilate when she responded. "Yeah. Among other things..."

"What... kind of other things?"

She would have told him, but since it was obvious they were both feeling the heat she bit her lip instead, a teasing look in her eye. "You're a smart man. You tell me."

"What if I... show you instead?" he whispered, his voice broken and obviously a little shocked that this was finally going to happen.

"Take it away, Doc."

His first kiss was sweet, reminiscent of the first one they shared on the couch, and his second was a little deeper. Y/N gave her stamp of approval by sighing, bringing a hand up to play with his hair again, and it was the trigger that shot him forward, his lips working hers with more passionate, methodical precision. Meanwhile his hand dipped under the covers and pressed firmly at her back, slipping under her shirt and bringing her closer.

She wrapped her leg over his waist, pulling herself forward to get as much contact as she could while he swiped over her bottom lip with his tongue. The small whimper she let out at his kisses made his hips buck forward involuntarily, to which Y/N clenched her leg tighter around his waist and tugged a little harder at his hair.

He tipped them over then, rolling so that he was hovering over her while their kisses only grew needier. His hand slipped under her shirt, feeling the expanse of her stomach and her sides. The low hum that came from her throat at his touches drove him half wild, so he boldened them, slowly sliding up and up until he reached her bare breasts. Her legs came out immediately and hooked themselves around the back of his thighs as she whined at his touch.

With curious kneads of her chest and even more exploratory kisses that were reciprocated with an equal hunger and passion, it didn't take long for Spencer to feel his insides churn with a desire that could possibly never be satiated. Even if Y/N was the one who kept him whole, he also knew she would be the one to completely wreck him to pieces. He'd rarely ever felt this type of desire before, especially not towards someone who took up every crack and crevice of his mind at any given moment. And now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go. She was going to utterly ruin him, and he'd never been more welcoming to that type of damnation—the type that was also his salvation.

Because she was everything all at once, devastatingly beautiful in every imaginable way.

Her hands tugged at his tee shirt, punctuating her urgency with a needy little whine into his mouth. He pulled back then, tugging off his shirt at the expense of taking his hands away from her. But from his higher position now, he took her in in all her wild glory, lips swollen and a little red, hair splayed out across the pillows, and her breathing visibly heavy. Even with the bruise under her eyes, she was the most breathtaking person he'd ever seen. She marveled up at him, willing her gaze to trail down his chest and stomach, her bottom lip tucking itself gently between her teeth as she stared at where his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Y/N reached out and grazed her middle finger across the waistband of his pants, gently feeling the fabric and his skin at the same time. He was still, continuing to watch her explore his body the way he'd done hers, always amazed at the curious look in her eye— the one that was now swimming in a pool of lust. Her hand trailed upwards, feeling the soft planes of his torso until she couldn't reach any higher.

"Having fun?" Spencer mused with a smile as she rested both her hands on either side of his waist.

She sat up then, pressing a kiss to his neck while her hands travelled south, under the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a breath as she palmed him through his underwear, gently nipping his shoulder before she answered. "Oh, I'm having so much fun."

He was going to say something, but words escaped him as she sat up on her knees and continued tracing the outline of his dick through his underwear. He was painfully hard in an instant, a fact at which Y/N gave a low, amused laugh. Once she found the underside of his tip, she gently rubbed it through the fabric with her thumb, and the broken whine that he let out delighted her in every way. Her tongue traced his collarbone and the contours of his shoulders and neck until she reached his jawline. She licked him there too, humming as her thumb worked faster at his dick.

"Mmm, I've wanted this for so long," she told him softly, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Do you know how many times I've thought about us? Dreamed about us?"

"Not as many as me, probably," he choked out with a small laugh, audibly trying to keep it together as his stomach burned with every languid stroke of her thumb over his most sensitive point.

Y/N returned his laugh and sensually kissed his jaw before saying, "I doubt that." Then she dragged her mouth up to his lips and brought her hand out of his pants so she could thread all her fingers through his hair. Though they were kneeling, he was still taller than her, so his hard erection pressed firmly against her stomach as he brought her closer, gripping her hips and melting into her.

When his right hand slipped into her sleep shorts, she whined out and pressed herself harder against him, reveling in the way the heat from his hand practically burned into her ass. He kneaded her there as well, groaning into her mouth when she tugged on his hair and turned her head to deepen their kiss.

It was obvious that she was trying to feel some type of friction— her knees were willing her to get up higher, to feel him hard against her, but alas she wasn't able to reach. She showed her frustration by whining into his mouth and trying to pull herself up, the pressure of her arms around his neck getting stronger with every passing second.

"Spencer pulled away laughing a little, removing his hand from her shorts and bringing it to the front, dragging along the inside of her thigh. "Is there something you want from me, pretty girl?"

The nickname sent a fire through her veins that set off every smoke detector in her brain, the alarm coming out in the form of a whimper. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered, nuzzling her nose to his and reaching down to guide his hand farther up. When his middle finger breached the fabric of her shorts, she whimpered again, willing herself closer to him. "Please, Spencer."

He hummed lowly, drawing circles into her skin. "Are you prepared? Like, do you... have condoms or anything, do we need one?"

"I have some in my top drawer if you want me to get it," she said quickly with a nod.

He laughed a little, amused at her eagerness, before pulling away from her and helping her off the bed. Once she was feet-first on the ground, she strode over to the dresser where she opened a small drawer on the top left and rummaged through it. Meanwhile Spencer followed her and came up behind her, pressing his front to her backside and making her tense. He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips to her neck, his hands resting at her waist.

She slowly rolled her hips against him, sighing out when his hands gripped her tighter. One of them slipped down into her shorts again, this time coming around front and resting over her clothed pussy. His fingers explored her like hers had explored him, teasing her in the same way that made her want to burst into flames.

"So wet already, pretty girl..." he mused, sighing and attacking her neck with more kisses. "I bet I'll be able to just slide right in..."

She outwardly moaned this time, clutching a condom in her hand and then slamming the drawer shut. "Alright then, Mr. PhD, why don't you put that theory to the test?"

He loved how eager she was, and a little impatient. Something told him that if he teased her enough, she might have just begged him for anything. But he didn't want to do that right now. No, right now he was planning on showing the love of his life just how much she meant to him. He was going to give her everything he had, and then some.

So he turned her around and kissed her, walking them backwards until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He almost went down, but before he could, he turned them around again. Y/N's body hit the bed, her legs immediately opening for him to stand between them. Rather than leaning down to kiss her again though, Spencer ran his hands tugged lightly at her shorts, to which Y/N gladly lifted her hips and allowed him to pull them off. Her underwear weren't too far behind, and then she lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and leaning back on her elbows.

Seeing her fully bare like this was enough to drive him mad, but he held on, spreading her knees apart and sliding his hands along the insides of her thighs. "Y/N, you're perfect..." As he marveled at her and showered her with love and praise, he slid his hands further and further up her body until they reached her arms.

She helped him remove his pants and underwear, and once they were off, Y/N tore open the condom and handed it to him. He rolled it on and then leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Then her temple, then her cheek... Then he pressed the softest kiss to her lips and looked her in the eyes. "You really want to?"

She smiled at him and nodded, bringing one of his hands to her entrance and pressing his fingers to the wetness that pooled there. "You feel how bad I want it?"

He groaned and kissed her then, circling his middle finger over her clit and making her cry out against him. After a few more seconds of this, Spencer positioned them at the head of the bed and angled his hips forward, the head of his dick coming in contact with her pussy.

He slid in slowly, reveling in every pure, blissful second that went by as he gradually became completely enveloped in her. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N threw her head back and bit her lip, her hands reaching out to play with his hair again. He ground himself into her for a few seconds before pulling back and then starting a slow, steady rhythm.

"God, Y/N, you feel so good... So... perfect for me."

"Funny, I was just going to say the same thing about you," she breathed. Her eyes trained themselves on his, and though there was a lot of love there, she saw something else that she recognized, something hesitant. It was close to the same look he gave her last night, after she'd explained to him that she was fine after he examined her injury.

He was going easy on her. But she wanted more.

Y/N reached up to tug his hair gently, biting her lip and batting her eyes. "I'm not made of glass you know... You can fuck me harder if you want to."

Everything from the look on her face to the way she said it to the way she clenched around him as she did made him half feral. He smirked at her without thinking, a natural reaction to her challenge. "Oh, you like it a little rough, huh?"

She smirked back at him and nodded, tugging his hair harder. "Uh huh."

Though he started fucking into her harder, his pace remained slow,  accentuating each rough thrust with a huff through his nose. Y/N's mouth opened involuntarily, the power of his movements rendering her almost speechless. Eventually though, she let out one large moan as her fingers even further tightened their grip in Spencer's hair.

Taking note of her reactions, he felt pleased with himself. "You like that, don't you, pretty girl? You like it hard and deep..."

Her hands dropped from his head and rested at the sheets, gripping them instead as he worked his hips a little faster. "Y—yes, baby, I fucking love how hard you fuck me."

The words tumbled out of their mouths so easily, each syllable spoken with the right amount of lust and truth, it was like their conversation was a dance. Their bodies and their words melded together in a perfect number that brought them further towards the climax.

But, as every dance does, their needed a little flourish.

Spencer reached out and caressed her cheek again, his thumb going straight to her lips. Y/N opened her mouth and sucked it in, swirling her tongue around it and groaning at the way he bit his lip when she did so.

"Fuck, pretty girl, you're gonna ruin me if you keep that up."

She smiled at his words, which allowed him to press his thumb flat down onto her tongue. Her mouth remained open as he held it there, her pants and moans coming out clear as day. And as if that wasn't hot enough, she batted her eyelashes up at him, and he fucked her even faster, both of them starting to feel the signs of impending orgasm.

He could have kept his thumb in her mouth forever, but to aid her in pleasure, he removed it, dragging it down her chin before bringing it to her clit and rubbing in tight circles.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," Y/N moaned, looking down between their bodies and almost losing it at the sight that beheld her. "Don't stop, don't fucking stop!"

He leaned forward to kiss her then, the new angle finally bringing her over the edge. She cried out into his mouth as it explored her own, soaking up all the sounds she made and using them to fuel his own release.

They came together, and it felt  like years of tension and anticipation and love finally culminated into one giant explosion that enveloped them whole. It felt like, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed, only Spencer, Y/N, and their palpable connection that felt very much like a home in and of itself.

Even as they came down, their breathing slowing down and their touches becoming gentler, that explosion quieted right alongside them, an echo of love and warmth lingering in its wake.

Spencer pulled out and laid beside her, reaching out and gently touching the bruise under her eye. "You okay?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes. I'm more than okay... I'm perfect."

He smiled at her, pure, true comfort settling in his bones. It was a rare feeling, but he was glad that it came with her presence. "Me, too. And I... I meant what I said last night, Y/N, I... I love you. More than words could accurately describe."

Her heart swelled at his words. "I love you, too, bud. More than anything in the world."

He contemplated for a minute, a smile forming as he said his next words. "More than pickles?"

Y/N threw her head back in a boisterous laugh that made Spencer's heart beat a little faster, before playfully hitting his harm and snuggling up next to him. "Yes, definitely more than pickles."

"Good. That would have been embarrassing."

"I don't love you more than peppermint hot chocolate, though. Or that cuckoo clock."

Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, but I got you those things, so technically that means you have to love me at least as much as them..."

"Okay. That's fair, I'll give you that one."

With an over-exaggerated, "Phew," Spencer smiled and pulled her closer, the warm sunlight from the windows giving him the most clear view of their legs tangled together over her lavender-colored comforter. It was so domestic, so perfect and loving and real that he never wanted to forget it.

He was thankful that he never would.

***

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Nothing but the Best

Author’s Notes: wow guys! Thank you so much for your support and for following this story! I never thought I would get so much acceptance so quickly! You are all incredible! ❤️

VIII.

“…he’s not in Japan, he’s gone to the Americas” Suguru arched his brow to Ijichi’s words about Satoru’s whereabouts “how come?” He asked “mission in New York, special grade curse in a school” Geto stopped on his tracks “New York?” He took off running to go get his phone without another word.

-

From: Suguru

To: Kitten

He’s in NYC! Get out of there!

-

You both agreed not to communicate through phone since Satoru for sure had his device monitored but this was an emergency.

It was 1pm in Japan which meant it would be around midnight back in New York.

“Fuck…” he didn’t have any time to lose, knowing Satoru, he had already found you. He had been there for about two days, plenty of time to locate Y/N.

Shit! He didn’t want Y/N to have to face Satoru alone. Well… so much for postponing his trip to New York.

“Shit!” Whispered getting in his car. He wasn’t about to let you handle Satoru on your own. Not that you couldn’t, oh no! Suguru was confident that if needed be you could hold your own just fine. But, you are his friend, someone who he loves. On the other hand, Suguru couldn’t just ignore what his own heart demanded. He didn’t want you to be alone anymore.

The past 6 months he had to stay behind just to keep Satoru from finding you but it was too late for that.

-

https://youtu.be/44mTGIotkWQ

|||

Each minute that passes feels like a lifetime… the clock falls off the wall…

|||

Defeated… that’s how Satoru felt now that he was finally able to face you. In his mind he pictured this encounter way different from this painful waltz of heartbreak.

He had been stupid to think you would jump in his arms, kiss him like there was no tomorrow and forgive him. He had been more like… delusional, thinking you would receive him with open arms (and legs) just because he showed up here.

Satoru thought you would see how hard he worked to find you, how much he suffered in your absence. He thought that would be enough to at least get a smidge of compassion from you.

Nothing was further from the truth…

You had always been a tough girl, stubborn, opinionated and bold. And fuck! He loved how you always made his blood boil with your passion! He could never get enough of you which is why he was so smitten.

But there was something different in you this time around… you had never been so… cold.

There was always a warmth that surrounded you at all times even when you were angry (specially then) a metaphorical and also a physical halo (not visible for non sorcerers) of luminescence that clung to your body enticing him and any cursed energy user to come closer. But now… standing here, before you. Watching you through his six eyes he saw that same halo much more opaque and cold. It was as if you had surrounded your heart with ice walls. A shiver ran down his spine.

What had he done to you!?

|||

Hold your breath… And pray for the world to end

Nothing's left… Some broken hearts will never mend.

|||

“Please… listen to me for 5 minutes and then I’ll leave you alone” (more like I’ll stalk you in silence and make you believe I left but I’m not gonna). Holding his hands in front of him as if trying to appease you, showing you he wasn’t hiding anything.

“You and I have nothing to talk about Gojo” your melodic voice was steady. Ouch… It hurt how you didn’t call him by his first name or any of the other cute and overly sweet nicknames you used for him; he haven’t heard you call him by his family name in about six years! No longer after you met you both were on a first name basis. He understood, it was a way of driving a wedge between the two of you, to distance yourself from him.

“There is nothing left for you and me to discuss… it’s over! Leave me alone” you stopped to take a breath trying to calm your heart.

“You know you technically are still a Gojo too… right? So it doesn’t make much sense that you call me by OUR name”. Yes, it was petty but he would be damned if he didn’t try and convince you to call him in a more familiar way.

She looked at him as if he was soft in the head for a moment “Sign the papers and forget I ever existed…” he had to cut you right there “NO! I refuse to forget about you Y/N! You are my wife! By law and by right you cannot just keep me away from you! I am not signing shit!” All those words tumbled from his lips faster than he expected. The rejection he felt for the idea of you never being with him again was making him lose his mind. You could not be serious! Could you? You couldn’t really be considering to move on… without him. (As if you hadn’t already done that).

“Just let me explain! Fuck!” running his hands through his hair in an exasperated gesture. “Please…” came a broken whisper, not a demand, but a request.

You straightened your back and folded your arms over your chest “you have 5 minutes and that’s it. At the end of that time I want you to leave and never come back!” Satoru nodded although he didn’t really agree to those terms but he thought if he continued to defy you it wouldn’t do him any favors to gain your forgiveness.

“I am sorry…” looking straight in your eyes started the handsome sorcerer, crestfallen and bleak “I know… I fucked up so bad… I know I hurt you. “ only words wouldn’t cut through the thick barrier you carefully crafted around yourself. You might as well be shielded by his infinity.

You looked at him with a mix of anger, pain and longing. You hated yourself so much for feeling your traitorous heart hammering away, getting lost in his crystalline eyes and deep voice. It wasn’t fair he held so much power over you.

“But I am fixing it Y/N… Sookie is not in my life anymore… I left her and haven’t been with her in a very long time, I don’t want anyone else but you…” assured the man desperately.

“How can you say that?!” You asked horrified “what kind of man are you that you would abandon your child!?”.

“He was not my son!…. Y/N. She cheated on me with someone else, the baby she carried was not mine. I confirmed that when the child was born…” admitted once more embarrassed about his stupidity.

Your expression was blank for the longest time, trying to process what Gojo had just said.

You blink a couple times, it’s almost as if he expected you to feel bad about his luck.

Fucking asshole! You knew he was trying to play the pity card with you but it wasn’t working.

“Well… I don’t care about your personal life, it’s none of my business” you reminded him. Satoru visibly flinched at the brutal retaliation. “let me finish! God damn! Y/N!” He felt like pulling out his hair.

“I know I fucked up so bad but please… please give me another chance… I will do whatever you say! Give you whatever you want just…. Don’t do this” he waited for an answer from you. He wanted to touch you and hold you in his arms, promise you he would take care of you and prove he was now worthy of your love.

“Goodbye Satoru…” you said turning around and getting ready to leave him standing there in the cold.

On instinct he warped in front of you and stopped you by wrapping his arms around your body, one went to your narrow waist and the other behind your neck pulling you to him.

Fuck it…. You already hated him, might as well give you a good reason.

He crushed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. Your body froze in his arms and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, ever the opportunist he slipped his tongue between your lips and caressed yours, enticing you to taste him as much as he was tasting you.

It only took your brain a couple seconds to work but by then you were trapped. You tried to fight him, placing both your palms against his chest and pushing him away. Might as well have been pushing a fucking wall. Gojo fucking Satoru was the strongest living person for a good reason.

It felt like an anaconda embrace, the more you struggled the tighter he held you until you finally gave in yourself. A tear ran down your cheek by the time you started kissing him back. You both went from practically devouring each other, angrily fighting for dominance to sensually and tenderly exploring each other’s mouth with your tongues, little licks and nips until you separated. His forehead against yours, both of your breathing heavily.

Not a single word was exchanged. Both of you afraid to break the chasm of this frail truce.

—————

———> Chapter 9

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