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shanastoryteller · 1 day ago

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HAPPY PRIDE!! Could i please get some Jayvik on this blessed day? 💖💖 If you havent seen arcane then dealers choise 😘

It takes him a few weeks to notice.

At first he just thinks it’s stress and lack of sleep. Of course he’s exhausted, he’s dealing with the shitshow of shutting down what remains of Project Shepard and witnessing another round of Guerin’s self destructive bullshit. Considering Caufield, considering the mere moments he’d gotten with his mother before she’d died in the explosion, Alex can’t say he’s surprised.

When Michael stands him up, not coming home the whole day that Alex spends there waiting, he takes the hint.

It’s whatever. In their long line of what they’ve done to each other, telling Alex that they’d talk and to come back tomorrow and then being away from home all day is – it’s whatever. He’ll try again later.

Later never really comes. Michael doesn’t answer his texts, his calls, and Alex doesn’t give up, exactly, but he has other things to focus on.

The fatigue hits him the hardest. Then headaches. All a little out of the ordinary, but what isn’t, these days? What finally forces him to go to the doctor is his leg getting swollen and inflamed for no reason he can figure out and its refusal to calm down even after a day out of the prosthetic.

One blood test turns to two and by the third he’s got a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach. By the time they tell him they need to do a biopsy, he already knows where this is going.

Cancer. Late stages, already in his bones, nothing they can do but try and get him a little more time and keep him comfortable. His doctor is more upset about it than he is, saying that this shouldn’t be possible, that she should have caught it long before now, that it doesn’t make any sense that she didn’t find it with how many check ups and tests he gets done for his leg. She’s frustrated and apologetic and near tears, saying that she doesn’t understand how this could have happened over and over again, and he ends up comforting her about it, which isn’t exactly professional, but he feels legitimately bad for her. It’s not her fault. It’s not something she could have caught or prevented. He knows exactly what happened.

Subject N-38.

The alien who gives cancer to anything around it, who killed Kyle’s father this same way, who was in the cell across from them when Michael broke the glass and set the self destruct off.

He’d had hopes. Plans. Things he wanted to do after getting out of the air force.

He reups as soon as he leaves the appointment. The things he needs to do can’t be done by a civilian, not in the time frame he needs to get them done in. There’s no point in trying to live his own life now when he has so little of it left.

He’s been on borrowed time ever since he got blown up in Afghanistan. There’s nothing for him to be upset about, really. He should be grateful he didn’t die in the desert of a foreign country. The desert he grew up in is surely a much better place to die.

If his laugh is too harsh and mean, it’s not like it matters. He’s the only one who hears it.

He sees Michael at Noah’s funeral, a drunken mess, and his heart aches. He saw his worst nightmare happening to all the people still left who were on the ship with him. He saw his mother, knows she endured decades of abuse, and only had moments with her before she’d died. It’s no wonder to him that Michael is a mess and part of him wants to reach out, but the rest of him knows better. The mood that he’s in, Michael will just lash out at him.

Watching Isobel pretend to cry over Noah, or maybe really crying because he may have been a liar and a murderer but for a long time she thought she loved him, he can’t help but wonder about his own funeral. It’s a dismal thought. His father will probably speak, never one to turn down a captive audience. It’ll be a town event, the tragic death of their hometown hero who survived the war but not illness, and the church – because his father will have it be at a church – will be packed full of people that never gave a damn about him, who will use his death as a tragic story they tell new people, and his stomach rolls. He tells himself that it’s from the medication.

He leaves Michael the guitar and almost laughs when he gives it back, when he says he can’t take it from Alex. He has work to do, he doesn’t have time to play. He’ll never have the time to play. It’s better it goes to Michael where it can do some good. Michael had said that music was only thing that used to quiet the chaos in his head and it’s clear he’s got a lot of chaos going on right now.

When Michael pushes him away, says they’re not good for each other, Alex has nothing to say. Nothing he can say. He’d wanted to make this thing with Michael work for once, wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But with the rest of his life being so short, it’s not worth it. What would he achieve by finally fighting for Michael now? Nothing more than breaking his heart. It’s better this way.

But he’s selfish too.

He legitimately wants to help Michael find out more about his people, his mother, but he also wants an excuse to see him now that all their normal excuses are gone. He’s going to be dead by this time next year and he just wants a little more time with him, even as friends, even as colleagues, even as a man that Michael hates. Alex is used to subsisting on crumbs.

Michael dating Maria is an unexpected pain. In other circumstances, he’d be furious. Another betrayal, one more person who’s placed their own wants above him, just like his brothers never defending him or his mother leaving him behind or Jim Valenti caring more about his job than Alex’s safety or Kyle more about his reputation than Alex’s friendship or –

It doesn’t matter.

He’s dying anyway. What good does getting mad at Maria do him?

He’ll be gone and they’ll have each other and if each breath hurts a little more than the last, it’s not like it actually matters.

It’s not like he’ll have to put up with it for long.

Michael calls him for his help out at the Long farm and even as Michael goes through the list of people he’d rather be here with him right now, letting Alex know he’s literally at the bottom of it, Alex can’t help the warmth, the giddiness he has to bite down on.

He’s here with Michael and he’s looking at him, smiling at him, talking to him. Alex flirts a little because it’s not like it matters, Michael’s with Maria and he’s a dead man walking. Michael doesn’t react at all, neither a smile nor a flinch, and if that breaks his heart a little, well.

Michael’s been doing that for a long time anyway.

He arranges for their lab in the abandoned American Indian boarding school, he rescues Noah’s body and delivers it, he uses his badge and his influence as a Captain to clear out the hospital and give them the chance to save Max and against all odds they actually do it.

He wonders, just for the span of a single heartbeat, what it would be like to be loved that deeply. Then he moves on.

He has a lifetime of experience telling him he should know better. He’s no one’s first choice, no one’s priority, and it’s a sad story, but so what? There are lots of sad stories out there.

Sleeping with Michael and Maria is a mistake.

He knows it while it’s happening, a sick feeling in his gut that he can’t quite ignore even when Michael is kissing him. He’s exhausted and hurt and sick and dying and as much as he likes Maria when he can work his way past the betrayal of it all, she’s still a woman and as comforting as he’d found her touches moments before, they feel different now. Beyond that, he’s never so much as kissed Michael in front of someone before. Sleeping with him in front of his girlfriend, Alex’s sort of best friend, is enough to make him nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with his meds.

But this is probably his last chance to touch Michael, to put his hands and his mouth on him, and Alex is willing to pay any price for that.

He keeps the prosthetic on the entire time. It’s the only bit of armor he allows himself.

The next morning, he can’t quite hide his shakiness, the utter wrongness of it all even if he still can’t quite bring himself to regret it. Michael can tell something is off but doesn’t get it and that makes Alex angry even if it shouldn’t. Alex wouldn’t have agreed to something he didn’t want, not under normal circumstances, and Michael doesn’t know that these haven’t been normal circumstances since Caufield. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t get it.

Alex walks away and Michael goes to Maria and nothing between them has changed at all. That’s a good thing. This is for the best.

He’ll be out of their way for good soon enough.

Kyle finding out is an accident. No one was supposed to know.

Someone tells him about the light stabbing – his money’s on Maria because even though Michael has moved on from him and Kyle saved his brother’s life, Michael still sort of hates him – and he insists on checking it out. Alex tries to refuse and Kyle doesn’t listen and he pulls up his file and –

“It’s too late,” Alex says, watching as all the blood drains from Kyle’s face. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“You’re not even getting proper treatment,” he says, voice angry but weak, barely above a whisper. He’s still reading Alex’s file. “You’re just managing the symptoms.”

“There’s no point,” he says. “I’m dead either way. At this point this is more an issue of quality than quantity.”

“Alex!” Kyle snaps, and fuck, he looks like he’s about to cry.

This is what Alex had been trying to avoid.

“I don’t want to go through what your dad went through in the end,” he says as gently as he can. He’s not planning on ever getting to that point, but staying far away from radiation and pointless surgeries is part of it. Maybe it would buy him a few extra months, maybe not, but it’s not worth it to him.

He still has so much work left to do.

“My dad,” Kyle repeats, sudden understanding filling with his face. “Is this – the alien, N-38, did he–”

“When the building starting to collapse,” he says, the lie smooth on his tongue. It’s almost not a lie at all. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He was scared. And I’m a Manes man.”

If he can manage to dismantle the terrible, generations long legacy that Manes men in Roswell, he'll consider his short life to be well spent.

“Alex,” Kyle says again, a lost expression on his face that makes him look about two decades younger than his actual age, that makes Alex’s chest tighten in a way that has nothing to do with the illness ravaging through him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kyle is a good guy. He’s been there for Alex a lot recently. He was his best friend for a long time.

If he were sticking around, maybe he could be his best friend again, considering the recent opening, but thoughts like those don’t do him any good. The best thing he can do for Kyle is the best thing he can do for everyone, what he has so much practice in.

He just has to stay away.

Spending time trying to get closer to people who he’s just going to leave would be cruel. He grew up in cruelty and he’s tried so hard not to let it seep too deeply into him.

“You had to watch your father go through this,” Alex says. “I don’t want to put you through that again. It’s not fair.”

“You dying isn’t fair!” he snaps.

Alex shrugs.

Fairness is a concept he let go of a long time ago.

Michael enters the lab and finds it occupied, which isn’t too unusual considering Liz’s desire to perfect and double check and look at everything from every angle. It makes him uncomfortable even on the best of days, but he’s well aware of the fact that if Liz was an ounce less brilliant, they’d probably all be dead and Max definitely would be. That’s gets her just a little bit leeway.

Except it’s not Liz hunched over a microscope.

It’s Valenti.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Kyle is a surgeon, a good one, admittedly, but he’s been fairly uninterested in the alien science so far. It’s one of the few good marks he has in his favor.

“Research,” he says, voice flat.

Michael feels his irritation go up another notch. “Don’t you have a whole hospital’s worth of labs to do research in? What are you doing here?”

“Looking at some of Noah’s regenerating cells,” he answers.

There’s strange note to his voice that Michael can’t place. He’s not sure if it’s better than the flatness he’d had to it a moment ago or not. “Why? Max is fine.” Well, fine-ish. For now. He’s alive, anyway, and that’s all that matters. They have time to figure out the rest.

Kyle’s shoulders hunch. “Oh well, if Max is fine, then that’s all that matters, right? So glad we could all cheat and steal and lie and break the rules of ethics and law and life and death to save Max fucking Evans!”

“What the hell’s your problem?” he demands, grabbing his shoulder.

Kyle turns and shoves him away. “My problem? What the hell’s your problem? Do you have any idea what we could do with this, how many people we could save? We could cure cancer!”

Michael shoves him back, suddenly furious. This sounds like the shit Liz says when she’s high on the power of discovery and science and her own genius and forgets that he and siblings are people. “Well, I don’t give a shit about curing cancer. Sorry to all those dying people, but they’re not my problem.”

He’s not expecting it when Kyle grabs him and slams him against the wall, chest heaving and eyes wild. His eyes red and filled with a grief that Michael had been too busy bitching at him just then to notice.

“Kyle,” he says, a terrible sort of apprehension sweeping through him. “Do you have cancer?”

He closes his eyes.

“Does someone you know have cancer?” he presses. How fucked up would that be? First his dad, now – “Is it your mom?”

Kyle shakes his head.

He still won’t look at him.

Michael gets the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, of the great yawning blackness stretching out beneath him. “Does someone I know have cancer?”

Kyle flinches.

He can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

If it was Liz or Rosa, then Liz would be here, probably with Max. He knows it’s not Maria.

They don’t have that many humans in common.

“What kind?” he demands, hearing his voice break and not giving a damn. “How far along? Has he started treatment already? When did he find out?”

Kyle covers his eyes with his hand and answers the one question Michael can’t bring himself to ask. “Eight months. If we’re lucky.”

He was on the edge and now he’s falling over it. He can’t feel his body. “No.”

“It was N-38,” he continues, misery and grief and rage now all too clear. “Alex says that when the self destruct sequence went off, the glass cracked.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re an alien, so you’re fine, but he,” he cut himself off, shaking his head.

No.

He’d cracked the glass.

He’d been trying to get to his mother and he’d set off that self destruct sequence. He’d cracked that glass and because of it – “No.”

“Guerin, please,” Kyle says, letting his hand slide off his face. “Human medicine couldn’t save my father and it can’t save him. Please.”

Michael turns and leaves without another word.

This can’t be happening.

Why is this happening?

He tried to save his mother, and he killed her. He left Max alone, and he killed himself.

He left that prison because his mother told him to run, yes, but also because if he’d stayed then Alex would have stayed too. He’d left that prison to save Alex’s life.

And now it turns out he’s the reason that Alex is going to lose it.

His thoughts are so loud and desperate, climbing over each other in their fear that all he’s able to process is silence, a strange mental breakdown version of white noise.

He doesn’t have the key to Alex’s new house in the center of town but he can pick locks in his brain.

He storms into the kitchen and sees Alex release his hand from his firearm. He’s in uniform. It’s early, Michael remembers. Alex is probably on his way out the door to go to work. He has no idea what he would have done if he’d shown up here to Alex gone.

“Guerin,” Alex says slowly, a guardedness there that he’s not sure he’s noticed before. Is it because he can tell that Michael knows? Or is this just a result of the threesome that had sent Alex running faster than pretty much anything else Michael had ever done? “You could have knocked.” His looks him over and his eyes narrow. “What’s wrong? Is Max okay?”

“Were you going to tell me?” he demands. He sounds angry. That’s good, he thinks.

He feels like his entire world is collapsing around him. Maybe it is.

Alex goes entirely still then curses. “I’m going to kill Kyle. Whatever happened to doctor patient confidentiality?”

“He’s not your doctor,” he says. Part of him wants to smile but the rest of him is too busy being destroyed at a cellular level. “You should have told me. Max can heal you.”

He sends him a flat look. “Max can’t heal so much as a papercut right now without putting his heart at risk and we’re all out of viable donors if he shreds this one too. If he can even do anything for this to begin with. Cancer isn’t exactly a bullet wound or a broken hand.”

“He brought Rosa back from the dead, he can cure you,” he snaps, ignoring the small voice telling him that Alex might be right, that Max hasn’t really healed something that wasn’t straightforward before. Maybe it doesn’t work that way. But if he can bring back a girl that was dead for over a decade, he can save Alex.

“And it killed him,” Alex points out. “Considering all the effort we just put in to saving his life, I’m not all that interested in ruining our hard work.”

Michael’s eyes burn. For months Alex has been working to shut down Project Shepeard, to help him find information about his mother, and he’s done everything he could and pulled every string he has to help Max. All while he knew he was dying and none of them knew it. He’d watch them move heaven and earth to save Max and said nothing about his own illness.

He doesn’t understand why. They could have been working on a cure for him too, this whole time, they were already spending so much time in the lab anyway.

“He’ll get stronger,” Michael says. Somehow. He and Liz can figure something out, a way to boost his powers without it hurting his heart, something.

“I’ll be dead by then,” Alex says, dismissive, almost mocking.

Michel rubs a hand over his face. Is he crying? He doesn’t think so. He just – he just needs to hold it together for this one conversation, just needs to get figure out how to save Alex, and then he can fall apart later. “Then we’ll put you in a pod. As soon as he’s strong enough, we’ll take you out, and he’ll heal you.”

“No.”

He drops his hand. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no,” Alex says, cool and resolute. They’re talking about him dying and they might as well be discussing the weather. “That could be years. I’m not doing that, not missing years of everything and waking up to a world I don’t recognize. That’s a nightmare. Look what it’s done to Rosa.”

“At least you’d wake up!” he shouts. “If you die, then you miss everything!”

He shrugs.

Michael can feel the tears building, threatening to spill over. Alex gave him faith in humanity when he didn’t have any. Alex made him feel like he could belong on this strange, fucked up planet. Alex is the person he’s loved longer than anyone besides Max and Isobel.

Alex can’t leave him.

Not for good.

He swallows. “He said – the glass –”

Alex softens for the first time. “It’s not your fault, Michael. It was an accident. These things just happen sometimes, it’s not anyone’s fault.”

It is his fault. He did this.

“Please,” he says. He’s not above begging. He’s not above anything if Alex will just let them help him. “Please, Alex, don’t – don’t do this, we can figure it out, okay?”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Alex says, that softness draining away. “You’ve been on this planet long enough to know that sometimes humans get sick and die. It’s not anything that needs fixing. It’s just how life on this planet works for the people who are from here.”

It’s exactly like something he’s had to bite back from yelling at Liz at dozen times, a hundred, but he always held back because it felt too terrible a thing to rub in her face from a guy that had never had so much as the sniffles.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. Liz had said that she was surprised he hadn’t saved the world by now and Max had replied that Michael didn’t care enough the world enough save it. Well, fine, whatever, he’ll save this whole miserable planet if only it means saving Alex too. “Please. I want you – I want you to–”

To live. To fight. To never leave. To stay. He doesn’t know. All of it.

“No,” Alex says, a hard curl to his smile. “You want Maria, remember? That’s what you told me.” He breaths in too sharply like Alex has punched him. He thinks he would have preferred that. Alex’s mouth shifts to something a little more genuine, a little less mean. “You don’t want me. You just feel guilty and you don’t want me to die. You’ll get over it.” He swallows. “It’s good that you have Maria. You’ll take care of each other.”

After I’m gone, he doesn’t say, but he might as well have screamed it.

Anger sparks in the middle of the sea of devastation and he grabs hold of it to keep from drowning. Alex hadn’t seemed to care he was with Maria, offering nothing more than a shrug and sad smile, like Michael choosing someone else was just a mild disappointment, easy come easy go. But he’d shrugged over his own death too, and if he’d known that he was dying since sometime soon after Caufield –

“Were you ever going to tell us?” he asks.

“No,” Alex says, unapologetic, unrepentant. “Once it got bad, I would have left. I don’t want the fuss or the pity. I would have had left instructions to tell you all it was an accident. Those do happen sometimes, you know.”

He wishes he wasn’t a genius.

He wishes he knew Alex a little less well.

“You wouldn’t have trusted anyone to lie like that,” he says. The tears are spilling over and he doesn’t care. “You wouldn’t have waited to waste away.” Alex hates the loss of control. It’s why he won’t go in the pod, why he didn’t want anyone to know in the first place, when their reactions were so far out of anything he could manage. “You wouldn’t have had someone lie about you dying in accident. You’d have left us all and gone somewhere where no one knew you, made sure you had your wallet and phone and dog tags on you, and you would have arranged an accident.”

Alex’s face tightens. “Well, you know all about arranging accidents, don’t you?”

The barb doesn’t even sting. Everything else hurts too much for it to matter.

Alex isn’t even bothering to deny it.

He glances at the clock and sighs, as if this whole conversation has been some petty inconvenience. “I don’t have time for this. I have a lot of work to do and only about six months left to do it in.”

Alex brushes past him on the way out the door and Michael wants to stop him, wants to touch him, wants to hold him.

Instead he slides down to the cold floor, pulls his knees to his chest, and sobs alone in the middle of Alex’s kitchen.

#well this got very out of control #i'm sure you're all shocked #also jesus CHRIST there's so much ANGST #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #roswell nm

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dumbbandpoetic · 21 hours ago

Text

INTRODUCING...

GIRL NEXT DOOR!READER who...

☆ just moved to Smallville from Metropolis, and despite moving onto a farm, has no idea how to do her chores, and struggles helplessly with all the lifting. Absolutely does not want to get dirty under any circumstances.

☆ talks to the farm animals instead of doing her chores. She doesn’t think it’s that weird - they’re alive too, so surely they get her!

☆ still isn’t used to living in a farm town, can’t sleep in the silence. She’s used to the bustle of the city and needs noise for her to sleep properly.

☆ is seen as a bimbo city girl by the rest of the school, but has a lot of opinions and a lot of thoughts, all of which she publishes in the school newspaper. That gets people to see her differently.

☆ always carries a journal around. Says it’s for the newspaper but never actually publishes anything she takes notes on. Maybe it’s just for her own personal observations.

☆ is really smart, just maybe not school smart. Falls asleep in class and begs people for notes that they just can’t refuse her.

☆ has no filter at all, says what she means and doesn’t know how to stop it. Usually she knows when she's insulted someone, and feels really bad about it. This no filter also means she can't stop herself from being awkward. Oops!

☆ makes crude jokes that nobody laughs at for a second, because they can’t tell if she’s actually joking or not.

☆ thinks clark is the most interesting person in smallville - not just because he’s her neighbour, but people treat him differently, and she spies him across the fence lifting things that probably shouldn’t be possible for a boy his age…

FARMBOY!CLARK KENT who...

☆ doesn’t know how to lie. He tries, but his face gets all red, and he starts stammering like a real idiot. It doesn't work for him.

☆ can’t understand sarcasm unless the tone is really buttered up thick and obvious. Pauses a beat too long before answering it, like he’s trying really hard to get it. Blushes when she laughs at him.

☆ was raised to be a gentleman, and still is. opens doors, pulls out chairs, calls people “ma’am” and “sir” when they first meet, etc. He makes his mother very proud.

☆ used to avoid all his chores until he was asked to do them, then did them quick to have it over with. Now, he does them without being asked, nice and slow, so he can show off to whoever might be watching...

☆ is so scared of his own abilities he’s overly gentle with everything. Opening and closing doors with one finger to avoid slamming them, scared to hold people’s hands. He holds eggs like they’re grenades, terrified he’ll crush them.

☆ reads sci-fi novels and comics to see what people think that aliens and heroes are like. Maybe he’ll base himself on the good ones in the future somewhere. His favourite is definitely Captain America - maybe not quite an alien, but definitely a lot like Clark.

☆ loves nature, avoids stepping on insects and plants. If he does step on a plant he’ll try his best to put it back and revive it - god forbid he should step on an insect, or even a small animal. He cries a little, buries it, has a whole funeral.

☆ really wants to tell someone about his secret. Someone who isn’t his parents, someone who he can talk to about it. With enough pressure, he’ll probably crack.

☆ thought his new neighbour was cute from the second she first knocked on his door, and has his telescope pointed down at her house so he can watch her when she sits on her front porch at night.

credits to enchanthings for the dividers

chapter one will come soon!! as always feel free to leave requests or little things in my inbox, i appreciate everything that comes my way. like and reblog if you enjoy so that this spreads around and i'm motivated enough to keep updating it 😂

#⤷﹐there she goes﹒⟣#₊°｡﹐ girl next door x clark kent #✧﹑emma's writing #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfiction #superman #superman fanfiction #superman x reader #superman x you #clark kent smallville #smallville

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orellazalonia · 14 hours ago

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Thank you for writing my request. It definitely warmed my heart ❤️. If you're looking for another fluffy idea one of my favorite headcannons has always been Bucky curled up in Steve's lap like a sad house cat with a belly ache. Maybe Stuckyxfem!reader with Bucky and reader being sick? I love the idea of Bucky's normally gruff, assassin personality going out the window when he doesn't feel well. Your writing definitely cheers me up.

-🧸

Aww, certainly! I’m so glad you enjoyed it, and thank you again for this request! It was so cute and absolutely hilarious to imagine, I hope you also get a kick out of it lol. Happy reading, my dear!!!

Sniffles and Supersoldiers

Summary: When you and Bucky both come down with a miserable cold, his usual gruffness melts into clingy dramatics as he curls up in Steve’s lap like a sulky, oversized housecat. But when you fall sicker, Bucky insists on returning the favor: armed with unhelpful comments, stubborn affection, and exactly zero medical qualifications. (Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes)

Word Count: 1.3k+

Main Masterlist

The apartment was unusually quiet for mid-morning. No punching bag thudding, no record player playing 1940s jazz, no sarcastic bickering echoing from the kitchen. Instead, there was a muffled groan from the couch and the faint whir of the humidifier Steve had insisted on setting up the night before.

You padded into the living room, holding two mugs of tea with a tissue box tucked under your arm. What greeted you was both adorable and ridiculous: Bucky Barnes, ex-assassin, deadly sniper, and former Winter Soldier himself was curled up in Steve’s lap like an oversized, brooding Maine Coon cat.

Steve sat cradling him with the patience of a seasoned caretaker, one hand resting on Bucky’s damp forehead and the other rubbing soothing circles along his spine. Bucky looked miserable, his cheeks were flushed, his hoodie was half-swallowed by a blanket cocoon, and his hair was sticking out in every possible direction. He sniffled pitifully into Steve’s sweatshirt.

You barely held back a laugh. “You look like a sad burrito.”

Bucky cracked one bleary eye open to glare at you. “M’tough,” He mumbled into Steve’s chest.

“Of course you are, Buck,” Steve said gently, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “The toughest guy I know. Just also… currently very full of snot.”

Bucky groaned dramatically and buried his face further into Steve. “You’re all traitors.”

You set the tea and tissue box down on the coffee table and crouched beside them, you turned Bucky’s face more toward you before pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. “Still warm. You need more meds soon.”

“I don’t want meds,” He grumbled. “They make me weird.”

“You are weird,” You and Steve said in unison, then exchanged a quick grin.

Bucky sniffled louder, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “I hate this, everything hurts. Even my metal arm feels like it’s dying.”

“You don’t even have feeling in it–“

“You’re not dying,” Steve interrupted calmly, though he adjusted the blanket and tucked it higher around Bucky’s neck. “You’ve got a cold. You and your dramatic flair.”

“You’re both mean,” Bucky muttered, voice getting stuffier by the minute.

Steve shifted slightly, trying not to disturb the heavy weight across his thighs. “You’re the one who refused to admit you were sick two days ago and kept doing push-ups in the rain.”

“And then tried to make me do them with you,” You added. “Which is how I ended up with the same cold.”

Bucky peeked over at you, his scowl melting into something more sheepish. “…Sorry.”

You flopped onto the couch beside them, stealing one of the blankets for yourself. “I forgive you. But only because you look like a sad, wet sock.”

Steve chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair. “I’ve seen this man punch through concrete walls and take out five Hydra agents in a hallway without flinching. And now he’s whining because his nose is stuffy.”

“I am not whining,” Bucky declared, immediately followed by a congested sneeze that earned him a very unimpressed look from Alpine, who was glaring at you all from across the room.

Steve handed him a tissue. “Bless you, honey.”

Bucky took it with all the dignity of someone who had just sneezed so hard his hair fell in his eyes. “This is the worst day of my life.”

You leaned your head on Steve’s shoulder and smiled sleepily. “You said that yesterday.”

“I meant it both times.”

Despite the whining, the sniffles, and the nest of tissues accumulating on the floor, the room was filled with the comforting presence of your little makeshift family. Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple, and Bucky let out a small, contented grumble.

Maybe he was like a sad housecat with a bellyache, but he was your sad housecat and Steve’s. And you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Even when he was sneezy and dramatic.

…But on second thought, maybe you should’ve handed him off to Steve the next morning.

See, you woke up with a groan and a mouth like sandpaper.

Your entire body ached, your throat felt like you’d swallowed a cheese grater, and your sinuses were staging a mutiny. Sometime in the night, your fever had returned, dragging with it chills and a heavy kind of exhaustion.

You didn’t even have the strength to sit up. You just let out a faint, “Ugh,” and flopped your arm over your face.

That was apparently enough to wake the human burrito snoring beside you.

There was a rustle of blankets and a muffled grunt, then Bucky’s congested voice slurred next to your ear, “You alive?”

“No,” You rasped.

“Cool. Me neither.”

He flopped dramatically across your torso like a cat flinging itself over a warm laptop. You made a strangled noise as his cold metal arm slapped against your ribs.

“Get off, you heavy heater from hell,” You wheezed, trying to shove him off and not be crushed all at the same time.

“Nope. This is sympathy heat. You’re welcome,” He muttered, refusing to budge.

“Bucky–” You coughed hard, turning away from him, and that finally got him to sit up.

“Okay, okay. Geez.” He blinked blearily down at you, hair sticking up on one side, a blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a sad cape. “You’re hot.”

“Flattering,” You croaked, “But now is not the time.”

“I mean you have a fever.” Bucky huffed, reaching out to touch your forehead the way Steve had done to him yesterday, “Yeah, you’re burning up. That’s bad. I should do something. Like… a nurse thing.”

You blinked at him. He blinked back.

“…Right,” He mumbled. “I’m gonna go get soup, or tea… or Steve. One of those.”

You collapsed back against the pillow, half-laughing through your coughs. “Definitely not your tea, please.”

But Bucky was already on his mission. You heard him shuffle into the hallway, muttering to himself: “Okay. I’ve seen Steve do this. Tea bag, water, and mug. Not hard. You’ve done worse things than tea, Barnes. You can do this…”

There was a loud clatter. A crash. A pause. Then, in the distance: “STEVE?! WHY DOES THIS TEA POT HAVE SO MANY PIECES?!”

You smiled faintly and buried your face in the pillow.

A few minutes later, he reappeared in the doorway, proud and disheveled, holding what looked like a chipped Captain America mug filled with… something warm.

“Tea,” He said triumphantly, handing it over. “I think.”

You took a sip. It tasted vaguely like peppermint and vengeance. “Thank you.”

He beamed. “Told you I’m a nurse now.”

Steve appeared behind him with a tray of actual supplies: meds, water, fresh tissues, and what looked like the homemade soup from yesterday, heated up and steaming now. He gently ushered Bucky back into the nest of blankets and helped you sit up with practiced ease.

“Bucky’s been in charge, huh?” Steve asked with a small smirk.

“I’m a very good nurse,” Bucky claimed proudly, then immediately sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “Except I have all the symptoms of the patient. Also I dropped a teacup and almost started a fire. But other than that–”

“You’re hired,” You said weakly, leaning against him.

“Damn right I am.” He tightened the blanket around both of you. “I’m staying here ‘til we all recover or perish.”

Steve chuckled as he tucked the extra blanket around your feet. “That’ll be… a long time with the way you two keep trading this back and forth.”

“Cool,” Bucky murmured, yawning. “Guess you’re stuck with us.”

You leaned on his shoulder, half asleep again already. Steve sat down on a chair beside the bed, stroking your hair gently.

It wasn’t glamorous by any means. There was still sniffling, disgraceful tea, and way too many used tissues; but the room was warm, soft, and filled with the kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken out loud.

Taglist: @yasmin12312 @herejustforbuckybarnes @eeveedream @wingstoyourdreams @figtreesandmoonlight @happygalaxymilkshake @hits-different-cause-its-you

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #stucky x reader #stucky fic #stucky #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fluff #fluff #sick!reader #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #request fulfilled #thank you for the request!

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cloudcountry · 18 hours ago

Text

SUMMARY: you tell chance you like parker.

CHARACTERS: parker bradley mentioned, chance present

COMMENTS: this is the straightforward mc version!! i have an oblivious mc version coming out soon since i had multiple versions of this scene in mind...

You have never seen Chance look so disappointed. He hasn’t moved in what feels like hours, his head bowed to the table, heads encircling the back of it like he’s shielding himself from the news. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, cheeks warming at his prolonged silence, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water as you try to search for the right words.

“Please tell me this is a joke,” Chance looks up, eyes pleading with you.

You say nothing. The second your lips spread into a soft, pitying smile, Chance's head knocks against the table as he lets out a groan.

“Are you sure? He’s not hiding under the table, is he? You guys got me, okay?” Chance raises his head again, calling out to the rest of the room, as if hoping Parker would pop out of some shadowy corner and laugh along with you.

“It’s not a joke, Chance,” you murmur, fidgeting with your fingers, “I’m serious.”

“Dude, that’s like—one of the worst possible things you could have said to me,” he sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, “I mean—Parker? Really? And look, I support you, I take a lot of pride in being your friend and being there for you, but with his dice I just don’t...”

He trails off, gnawing at his bottom lip. You can see the equations spinning around his head as he tries to make sense of each and every angle, much like he does during a campaign. You’re left sitting in silence once again, watching your poor best friend deal with the knowledge that you are very, very attracted to the guy he cannot stand to be around.

“Okay—Look. You know about the dice thing, right?”

You nod.

“And you know that even if you win every game, you’re still going to have a chance of rolling hate, right?”

You nod.

“How many games have you won?”

“I won Sandyland. He kicked my ass at Chess, though.”

Chance slumps down in his chair, dragging his hands over his face. It’s getting to the point where you almost feel a little bad for putting him through this. Maybe you should have asked Betty, or Amir, or even the fucking cabinets who you only spoke too once and don’t remember the name of—

“Listen,” Chance sits up straight again, staring at you like he’s never felt more sorry for a person, “You can beat him at this next game. I know you can. I’ll make the dice however he wants me to make them—I can’t cheat or else he’ll know.”

At the word cheat, something is Chance shifts.

“Wait, you haven’t cheated, have you?”

“No!” you shake your head rapidly, brow furrowing, “Why would I do that?”

“Good. It adds an extra hate point to your die. I bet he didn’t tell you that, did he?”

You swallow thickly, thanking your lame poker face for dissuading you from attempting anything of the sort.

“No, he didn’t,” you purse your lips.

“It’s alright, it won’t affect you anyway,” Chance waves it off, bringing a contemplative hand to his chin as he thinks through various strategies, “We need to strategize if we’re gonna—”

“Wait, you’re helping me?” you blurt, blinking owlishly.

Chance actually laughs, a smile so warm it makes you feel like anything is possible.

“Of course I am, we’re friends aren’t we?” he huffs, amusement evident on his face, “Besides, with that guy, you’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

A glimmer of hope shines in your previously dull future. Maybe wooing your board games isn’t all that hopeless. After all, you still have one game—and then the final dice roll, which Chance will be there for regardless of the outcome.

“Do you think I could convince him to roll a separate pair of dice to decide if his previous roll was accurate or not if things go south?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers again.

“You know...” Chance hums thoughtfully, “I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

The more time you spend talking about it, the less freaked out Chance seems regarding your feelings. There’s no way to change them, or to manipulate them into something else, so you simply have to accept them for what they are.

Parker is the same. You’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or when you show up to your game nights in your summer pajamas, his gaze trailing up your legs and arms—there’s no doubt that he’s attracted to you.

But that doesn’t mean anything if his dice rolled for friends, or for hatred.

All you can do is hope it doesn’t come to that, and prepare just in case it does.

#auburn's fics <3 #auburn talks de <3 #date everything #parker bradley #parker bradley x reader #date everything x reader #date everything parker

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sweetdreamslie · 2 days ago

Text

Long day

Pairings: Enhypen Hyung Line x Fem!Reader

Summary: Some days are harder than others, and when the weight of the world feels unbearable, having your boyfriend who is there for you —whether through a comforting FaceTime or simply being there in person—can make all the difference.

Warnings: work stress, burnout, emotional overwhelm, implied intimacy and nudity (Jake’s and Heeseung’s scenes), mild verbal frustration, reader vulnerability, feelings of loneliness or abandonment, and soft emotional breakdowns.

Word Count: 2k

Credits for banner: @sweetmelodygraphics

A/n: Thank you for reading! - 🪐 Remeber to always take time for yourself! - 🫧

Heeseung:

Delivered. You stare at your phone before huffing and setting it down. The house is quiet without Heeseung home to lighten everything up. The thought makes your heart stop, but you choose to ignore it and continue. Setting your keys and bag down, you walk further into the kitchen to find the dishes you had left still there. Usually, Hee would do them. You sigh and walk from the kitchen into the living room.

The living room is clean, except for a blanket you threw onto the couch before leaving for work that morning. Instead of folding the blanket, you turn on your heel and start for your bedroom. The first thing on your mind is showering and getting out of your work clothes. As you walk into the bathroom and turn the water on, your brain drifts back to your day at work. The thought sours your mood further, and you attempt to focus on the task of undressing.

The water, once you enter the shower, hits your body, and a small part of you can’t help but relax at the warmth it offers. It’s not the same as what Heeseung could offer you, real human contact, but it’s enough to hold you by until he answers. You let out a breath and start to wash up.

Just as you were wrapping things up, your music cut off, and the screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call from Heeseung. You didn't hesitate to pick up, and as soon as you saw his face, your body relaxed even further, knowing he was just on the other side of the phone.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that answer, but next time, just give me a heads-up about what kind of call it is so I know... in case I need to kick anyone out.” Heeseung says with a smirk, looking at you, or what is only available to him since the camera offers only so much.

“Hee, seriously… I was just getting out, and it's not that type of call. I just… really needed to hear your voice today.” As you say this, you get out of the shower, set up your phone, put on a towel, and lay out your skin care.

“Did you need to hear my voice because you missed it or because something happened?” Heeseung asks, his face filled with concern.

“Well, firstly, I always miss you and your voice when you're gone. Second, it's just been lonely by myself. Work has been kicking my ass, and I am just very ready for you to come home. It's like my body knows you're not here and refuses to sleep without you here.” You let out a sigh, feeling the weight begin to lift from your shoulders as you finally talk about your week, everything you've been holding onto slowly spilling out.

“ Oh, baby…” his voice softens, a bit of guilt and love mixing in his tone. “I hate knowing you've been holding all that in by yourself. I wish I could’ve been there to make it even a little easier for you. I love you, and I miss you like crazy, too. You’re doing so well, and I’m so proud of you. But I’ll be home soon, and when I am, I’m not letting go of you for a long time.” He pauses, his eyes scanning your face through the screen. You didn't say anything, you just looked at him with more adoration than you thought possible.

A few moments pass, and you look at each other with love and longing. “Well,” you finally whisper, your voice soft. “I’m counting the days until you get home… and you better keep that promise.” Hee nods and tells you he would never break a promise, especially to you.

As the night goes on and you get ready for bed, you put on one of Heeseung’s shirts and pile into the big, empty bed. You set the phone back on your nightstand, and then realize you forgot a glass of water and your teddy bear on the couch.

“One second, Hee, I need to grab my water and bear.” You get back out of bed, grab your water and bear, and lie back down. Now you are truly ready for bed, but not yet ready to hang up on your boyfriend.

His voice comes through the phone as he whispers, “Hey, go to bed, babe. I’m right here with you now, and I’ll still be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere—I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.” You can almost feel the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a cozy hug as you shut your eyes to get some rest, finally

Jay:

Before the day started, Jay told you he would be in the studio, which meant any and all contact with him would be limited. At first, that wasn’t an issue. You were able to continue with your day without hearing from him. Then your coworkers started pushing their work onto you. Your boss began to make comments about you that he was not hesitant to say. Between the slight digs and overwhelming amount of work, when lunch rolled around, you needed someone to talk to.

Lucky for you, and probably unlucky for him, Jay texted you just as you were about to clock out for lunch. In minutes, you were swiftly ranting to him about the extremes of your day. He listened, as he always does, and even absorbed the information. He replied as if he were right there next to you. He calmed you down enough to continue with the workday. When lunch ended, you unwillingly finished talking with him and continued with your day.

So, to your surprise, upon returning home after the work day, you found the house lights turned off and instead replaced with candles that scattered the hallway, kitchen, and dining room. Jay was standing at the dining room table, which was covered with your favorite foods and different bakery-bought pastries. He had a small smile on his face as he opened his arms for a hug.

“I know today was rough for you, and I wasn't even able to call you, so I thought why not spoil my baby some and treat her to some of her favorite foods, which I made homemade, and get her some of those pastries that she doesn't stop talking about.” Jay couldn't see your face as he talked to you because he was hugging you, but if he could see it, he would have seen the tears in your eyes and the small smile forming. However, Jay didn't have to see your face to know how you felt; he could feel you relax in his arms and surrender the day's frustration.

“You didn't have to go all out. I would have been just fine coming home to take out and have a nice warm evening with you.” You slowly pull back from the hug to meet his eyes, then you look over at the table to see every detail Jay put into this. As you see the bouquet of roses and a little card sitting in front of them, and the food displayed neatly with your favorite wine, you can't help but hug him again. The hug was different, though; this time it communicated something words could never. You were safe here, with him.

“I did have to go all out, though, and plus, you can't deny you would do the same for me if I ever had a rough day like that at the studio.” Jay says, pulling a chair out before gently guiding you to sit on it. Once you’re seated, he sits across from you and starts to reach for the chopsticks. You follow his lead, stomach rumbling at the idea of eating.

As you both enjoy the food and pastries, Jay reaches across the table to hold your hand, his thumb rubbing it soothingly. As time passes, the conversations you're having come to an end in peaceful silence. You realize something.

“Weren’t you supposed to still be at the studio when I got home?” As the day ended and your time with Jay became longer, you realized he wasn't supposed to be home till later. As you look at Jay in confusion, his hand still holding yours, he responds.

“Told them I had something going on at home. They let me leave early since you come first. Always.

Jake:

It was one of those rare days when Jaeyung had the day off, and usually you would too, but your boss had you scheduled and there was no getting out of it. The morning started off great, you woke up to your boyfriend cuddling you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. After waking up, he even made breakfast for the two of you. You left the house with a goodbye kiss and spirits lifted.

Only for it all to come crashing down the second your coworker opened her mouth to complain about her work and the boss. You tried to ignore her, focusing on your job and getting the work that needed to be done. But you couldn’t listen with her in your ear, causing you to have almost nothing done when your lunch rolled around.

Just as you pulled your lunchbox out of the company fridge, your phone rang, and Jake popped up. A sigh of relief went through you, knowing he could help bring you back down to earth. As you brought your lunch to sit outside, you pressed the answer button.

“Jake! I have had the worst day of my life, or at least what feels like the worst day of my life.” There’s silence before the phone picks up his voice. It’s soft and exactly what you need to hear at this moment.

“What’s going on, sunshine?” Within seconds, you’re complaining about the chatty coworker who wouldn’t leave you alone for over three hours and how you got nothing done because of it. He listens to you speak, never interrupting or talking over you. When you are done ranting to your boyfriend, you realize that he is the one who called you.

“I’m sorry, my love. You called me, and I completely took over, which I really appreciate. Now, what did you need?” There’s a brief silence before he answers, which almost messes with you, making your stomach turn slightly. Just as the panic starts to creep in, his accent cuts through the line.

‘It’s not a problem, sunshine. I am always here to listen, and I am glad you were able to vent so that now you can go back and be productive. Anyways, I was calling to see what we needed for dinner tonight, but I remembered now.’ Your body relaxes, and you check the time on your watch. 1:20, time’s up. You walk back into the building, sit down, tune out the noise, and go to work.

The day was finally over, and though it was rough, you were more than relieved and excited to go home to Jake and your guy's fur-baby, Layla. As you pull up to you and Jaeyun’s house, a sense of comfort almost immediately washes over you. Jake is waiting for you behind that door, and then all your worries are gone, at least for the night.

Getting out of the car feels like a task, but you manage it, slipping out and closing the door behind you. You walk the short distance to the house, hand outstretched so you can open the door. As you approach, barking and Jake’s quiet voice can be heard telling Layla to stop. A small smile forms before you open the door and step inside.

Jake smiled at you as you entered the house, and you felt your body relax as you smiled back. Layla came running up to you, her tongue out as she panted. You bend down, fully intending to give her as much love as she would allow.

“Hi.” Your hand pets Layla, who’s licking at your arm and barking quietly. Jake approaches the two of you before bending down and gently taking your chin in his hand. You two hold eye contact as he places a soft peck to your lips.

“I have a bath ready for you upstairs. To help you relax.” Your eyes dart towards the stairs while you stand back up to your full height. Jake gently locks his hand with yours and starts to guide you towards the stairs while quietly talking about what he bought for dinner.

You allow him to guide you, your eyes never leaving his. Even as he guides you into the bathroom, even as he helps you undress.

“I love you Jaeyung.”

“I love you too.”

Sunghoon

As you step up to your door, you pull out your keys and unlock it. The lights are dim but on, so you know Sunghoon is home, but that thought isn’t even on your mind. You just had the worst workday yet. All your meetings ran too long, completely ruining your schedule, which meant you had to stay at work much later than you wanted. By the time you left, the sun was already setting.

As you stepped through the door, you dropped your bags onto the floor with a loud sigh. Your keys were flung somewhere on the stand by the door, as you couldn’t be bothered to actually hang them up. Kicking off your shoes, you slipped into your house slippers and made your way into the living room. There, in the corner, sat Sunghoon at his desk, his computer glowing as he typed rapidly, completely absorbed in whatever he was working on.

You stare at him for a few seconds before slowly approaching. Your footsteps are quiet, but it’s still enough to pull Sunghoon away from his computer. Almost as if noticing your mood, he leans back in his chair and opens his arms. No words are spoken as you sit on his lap, your head resting against his shoulder, and you sigh softly.

No words are spoken, not that any need to be spoken; his presence is more than enough to rest your sour mood. He places a soft kiss on your head, one of his hands reaching out to turn his computer off.

“Wanna talk about it?” You shake your head and bury it deeper into his shoulder. He hums as a response before beginning to run his fingers through your hair. You two stay like that for a while, just enjoying each other, allowing yourself to live in the moment and forget your stressful day.

Eventually, you pull away from him and just stare at him with a tired smile. Sunghoon shuts his computer, picks you up, and walks you to your bedroom. He places you softly on the bed and tells you to wait.

The longer you sit there, the more confused you are. He comes back with a sweatshirt and some pajama pants, placing the clothes on the bed and saying, “Here, put these on and meet me by the front door.” He walks out before you can ask any questions, but you do as he says.

You walk to the front door and find him standing there, shoes on, a blanket draped over his arm. Your shoes are already waiting by the door, placed for you to step into. As you step into your shoes, you ask, “What are we doing? It’s dark out and I was hoping we could just cuddle on the couch or something.”

Sunghoon looks at you softly and tilts his head towards the side. He picks up the car keys and opens the door for you. As you step through, he breaks the silence by saying, “We’re going for a drive. Somewhere quiet, just you, me, the stars, and the night air. I want you to breathe for a bit… let your mind rest and just be here with me, in this moment.” As you look at him about to say something, he puts his hand on your back to guide you to the car.

You both pile into the car, Sunghoon places the blanket over you, and starts the car. Soft music plays in the background as the windows lower.. Slowly, the car begins to move, and the night air begins to flow in. You take a deep breath in and close your eyes.

Sunghoon puts his hand on your knee and rubs his thumb over your knee in a soothing motion. You place your hand on top of his and squeeze his hand. He looks over at you as you pull up to a red light. You lean over and kiss him and whisper against his lips, “Thank you, you always know what I need and are always there for me. I love you.”

You both pull away as the light turns green and he looks at the road, then you again and says, “There’s no need to thank me. I’ll always be here for you, through everything. I love you more than all the stars in the universe.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 hours ago

Text

Doomed to Repeat 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a painful divorce, your wary of men, that is until Bucky Barnes needles his way in. (older!reader)

Same universe as this.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

I know it’s Steve week but this doesn’t count. Shhhhhhh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and you are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"I'll wash up," Bucky stands from the table.

You look up from your empty plate. So much time alone and you’ve fallen into the practice of tuning out. There's rarely anything worth paying attention to when you’re not teaching or reading.

“Oh, really, you don’t have to.” You grab the sides of the plate as he reaches for it. “It’s two dishes.”

“Fine with me. Quick work.” He insists.

He frees the porcelain from your grasp. You let go of the thrift store find, the chip on the edge brushing your fingertip. You used to have nice dishes. Nice scalloped plates with flowers painted around the brim.

“Thanks, er...”

“Relax,” he says. “Think I can handle some soap and water.”

He goes into the small kitchen. You listen to him flip the faucet on. You shift in the chair and stand, restless. You follow him and hover in the door frame. As the water laps into the sink, he rolls up his sleeves.

“You can just leave them there--”

“Ma taught me manners.” He turns to look at you over his shoulder.

You nod and lean on the doorway. It’s not just who he is that’s surreal, it’s someone else being there. Someone helping. Even before it all fell apart, that wasn’t typical. You took care of Walter; the house; you kind of forgot about yourself.

“Tell me more about that class of yours. World War Two... battles? Home front? All of the above?” He asks.

Again, that’s new. No one asked about that. Before the divorce, it was a forgotten specialty, more of a hobby.

“Neither... home front, I suppose. It’s about the leadup to the war.”

“Ah, interesting. Funny how far back those things go. I mean, you could go all the way back to the first big one. That makes sense but then that means you need to poke around the causes of that one. And you can’t just blame it all on a wrong turn. Hapsburgs go back a millenia there abouts. But then there’s the acceleration of military technology, tensions between the classes, all that and on and on. Soon you’re talking about the Romans.”

He chuckles and you tilt your head. You can’t help but agree with the sentiment. It’s never just as simple as yesterday. There are many days that come before that.

He sets the plates in the rack and shuts off the tap. He drains the sink as he dries his hand. Your eyes snag on the metal one. You catch yourself as he waves at you.

“Sorry,” you say.

“Nah. It’s still strange to me,” he makes a fist then open his fingers. “You know, every morning I wake up and expect to see my own hand. So I take the thing off. Too weird.”

“Right,” you bite your lip thoughtfully.

“Hey, really. It stopped being a sore spot decades ago. I got all fixed up and a snazzy arm. I got nothing to complain about,” he shrugs.

“Still, it’s not polite to stare,” you turn away.

“Then you must think I’m a real hound.”

You look at him and shake your head, “what do you mean?”

He chuckles. “Well, I just told on myself.” He crosses the kitchen. “I stared. A little.”

His eyes flick down and you follow them. Somehow, you didn’t notice. You were too distracted; by him. Your bright pink sports bra is visible as the loose work out top slumps down your chest. It’s not that bad. Not like you can see much. It flattens more than it lifts.

“Oh, uh,” you tug it up and back away. “Just fabric.”

His cheek dimples. “I got a question, prof.”

You retreat into the living room as he follows, “sure.”

“I gotta pay to sit in on one of these classes?”

“Typically. Most of my students are in a degree program. They pay tuition but... you could audit, if you wished. If you have the time.” You stand behind the armchair, shielding yourself from him.

“I’m interested. I’ll make time.”

“I’ll send you the schedule,” you offer.

“Great,” he grins and lowers himself onto the couch. He checks his watch. He sighs and stretches his neck. “Gimme a few. I’ll get outta your hair.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Pizza always makes me sleepy.”

“Alright,” you sidle away from the chair. “I’ll pack you the pizza to go. I won’t eat it.”

He hums and covers his mouth as he yawns. You circle the room as you keep your distance. You go back to the dining room and pick up the pizza box. You peek at him as you head to the kitchen. He’s undisturbed.

You find a container big enough for the remaining slices. You pop the lid on and flatten the box. You come out with the leftovers and slow as you approach Bucky.

His snores rumble through the apartment. You raise your hand over his shoulder but stop yourself from waking him. You recoil as if you’ve been slapped. You remember how Walter was when you woke him. Never happy. Well, did anything ever make him happy?

You stand dumbly beside the couch. You can’t imagine how tired he must be. With his job. Two jobs really. You hear he still goes out and does the whole hero thing.

You go to the kitchen and shove the container in the fridge. You’ll wait him out. You return to the front room and grab the thick volume you’ve been plucking away at. A translation of German articles about the SS. Grim.

You sit in the armchair by the lamp and cradle your chin as you dive in. Your eyes are itchy in minutes. You’re exhausted. You yawn and shift in the chair.

You finish the chapter and let the page close around your finger. You blink and look at Bucky. He’s still sleeping. His snores don’t relent.

You let your eyes shut. Just for a moment. You just need to find your second wind. It sweeps through you and you slump to the side. You’re asleep before the book slips from your lap.

🌆

The startling recollection of drifting off in the armchair while you waited for your guest to rouse hits you like cold water. You sit up on the couch. You don't know how you got there.

You peek over at the armchair then down as you feel a coolness graze your arms. The throw blanket gathers around your waist. You search the apartment in the dim light of morning. You get up to do so with more than just your eyes.

There's a slip of paper tucked in between the front door and the frame. It's locked but you're certain Bucky's gone. The apartment isn't big enough for him to be hiding.

'Had a good night, prof. Sorry I tapped out. See ya in class.'

Short, simple. A perfect thesis and conclusion. You fold it up and go to the kitchen. You leave it on the counter. Most people would text. Well, he isn't most people.

You make your coffee. Black. No sugar, no dairy. You can have your caffeine or your sweets. You depend on the former.

You drink alone at the table. You stare out the window as the hazy sunlight slowly rises over the city. You cup your chin as you lose yourself in the horizon.

Last night is like a fever dream. If it wasn't for the pinch in your hips from falling asleep on the armchair, you'd doubt it yourself. Bucky Barnes darkening your doorway. Why?

You sigh and finish the dregs, a few stray ground sticking to your tongue. You rinse the cup and linger at the sink. The scene from the night before returns to you; Bucky at your sink, washing the dishes. When did your husband ever bother?

You try not to think about him or then. Still, you can't just forget nearly half your life.

The restlessness sets in. You need to do something. Well, that walking pad isn't going to use itself. You pay it flat and change into fresh workout clothes. It hardly matters, you're just going to sweat through them anyway.

You get on the pad and start the timer on your phone. You might not be a super soldier but you don't have to be a schlub. You'll try to keep your creaky old body going for just a bit longer before it completely breaks down.

💻

Your laptop is on the table. The waiting room is open on Zoom as you do your last-minute prep. Slides, notes, water. The first lecture of the year you forgot the latter and found your voice creaky by the end.

You check your phone one last time. Bucky said he planned on attending this one since the next week that class had independent work time in lieu of a lecture for their midterm essays. He hasn’t texted since. You sent the invite but he hasn’t joined the waiting room. Well, you expect he has better things to do. Governing and ll.

You’ll have to start in two minutes. You like to greet everyone a bit earlier than the formal start time and give a moment for technical issues. You sit and shrug. Good thing you didn’t make an announcement. You’d hate to let the students down.

Right before you can start admitting people from the waiting room, there’s a knock at the door. Of course, the landlord would appear then. They can’t come replace the faulty smoke alarm when you’re not busy. Or three weeks ago when you called.

You get up. You’ll have to tell him to come back another time and it will probably be another three weeks. You cross to the door and open it.

“Sorry, prof,” Bucky smiles sheepishly. “Ran across the city to get here.”

“Um... I sent you the Zoom link.”

His eyes flick back and forth. “Zoom link? Oh, I guess it’s easier but you know, my assistants set those meetings up usually. I’m more of an in-person type of guy.”

“Uh, okay, I wasn’t...” You back up. Maybe you should have clarified. “Alright.”

You let him in and shut the door. You hurry back to the table and shift the laptop. How are you going to do this. You move the other chair.

“Sit here,” you say.

“Sorry, I guess I misunderstood,” he puts his briefcase on the couch as he passes.

“It’s fine.” You check the time. “I gotta start letting people in. I’m going to do my welcome then introduce you. I have some review points and a condensed lecture so you can do your thing.” You sniff as you check yourself in the camera. “You got my notes?”

“Sure did. Very thorough.”

“Uh, thanks,” you swirl around the mouse to find the cursor. “Here we go.”

You admit the students from the waiting room and they pop up on the screen. You share your slides so you’re not the centerpiece of the grid. You wait until you have a full count.

“Alright, thanks everyone for coming today. Nice to see you again. And thank you to everyone who came to office hours.”

You try not to rush through, try to give moments for questions. Your stomach is roiling as you’re overly aware of the man next to you. Bucky has his hands calmly clasped as the table as he waits; off-screen.

“Next week, there will be no lecture. Remember, that Sunday, your midterm needs to be submitted through the LMS. You will still be expected to participate in the archive discussions.” You go through. “Before the lesson, does anyone have any questions about the midterm?”

You wait. No response. That's typical. You'll have a full inbox next week, you’re sure.

“Alright, without further ado. Let’s start. This week in our countdown to war, we’re going to look into a very familiar context; the United States. It shouldn’t be a surprise that even before involvement in the war, America found itself very much affected by the rise of Hitler and National Socialist Party...”

You go into your slides, notes forgotten. You did so much work on the buildup to war, you can ramble at end. The challenge of teaching is focusing on the most significant points. On building the staircase up.

Bucky’s shadow moving next to you draws you back. You flinch but keep going. He’s watching you. His observation makes you sweat. He’s closer than you’re used to. Right beside you, right there. He was there, he saw the war breakout right in front of him...

“Alright, I’m sure you’re all tired of my rant,” you laugh off. “I do have a surprise for you all.” You try to smile. It’s awkward and forced. “For the last half of class, I have a guess speaker. An eye-witness if you will. So I’ll turn it over and let him introduce himself.”

You hesitate as you stop sharing the presentation. Should you switch seats? Should you move the computer? The latter. You lift the laptop and put it in front of him. He adjusts the angles of the screen.

“Hello, everyone, I’d like to thank your professor first of all for letting me come and talk to you. She seems to have the subject matter well in hand.” He speaks easily. Well, he’s perfected the craft in his role as a representative, though sometimes when you see him at the press conferences, he can be terse.

You squint at the screen. Several of the students sit up in their little square and lean in. There’s surprise etched into their faces. One unmuted soul utters, “Bucky Barnes?”

He chuckles.

“I guess a formal introduction isn’t needed,” he smiles. “But uh, I should warn you. The war was a long time ago so... you know, the memory isn’t what it used to be.” He slips his hand under his jacket and takes out a worn journal. He slides out a loose leaf of paper from between the pages and unfolds it. “I made notes.”

You look between him and the screen. The students are interested. You’re relieved. Still anxious. You feel strange just sitting there letting him do all the talking.

You quietly move the chair back and angle it around. You should listen. You could learn something too.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #doomed to repeat #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #avengers #captain america

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teamackles96 · 3 days ago

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Stay Strong - Chapter Three

❧ Main Pairing: Mark Meachum x Ex!Reader

❧ Summary: 5 years ago, you and Mark dated. Then one day he leaves with a broken heart and a poor excuse. Now, your forced to face him and work with him again on another task force.

Can you stay strong or will you be hypnotised by this charms again?

❧ Chapter Warnings/ Notes: Protective!Nathan Blythe, Angst, Hurt

❧ Wordcount: 1.4k

Previous Chapter

Chapter Three - We're In The Dark (Present Day)

Seeing Mark for the first time in two and a half years had thrown you for a loop.

Nathan warned you weeks ago that he'd been chosen for the task force. He knew about your history with the detective—and how badly it ended. But he needed the best, and that meant Mark. From the warning, you thought you'd have more time to prepare.

Then DHS Officer Darden was killed, and everything was expedited. Your weeks turned into twenty-four hours.

Looking back, how were you supposed to prepare to see the man you were still in love with for two and a half years?

After nearly pacing a hole into the carpet, you headed to the bullpen. Nathan wanted to introduce you to the team.

Your heels clacked along the linoleum floor, drawing the team's attention. Nathan rose from behind his desk the moment he spotted you, stepping out his office to greet you.

“How was the trip?” He extended his hand for a shake, You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Normally, you’d hug—but he was trying to keep it professional. You shook it anyway.

“You couldn’t spring for a non-stop flight?”

He shrugged. “I needed you here as soon as possible.” Your smile grew. “Let’s do this, so you can get some rest.”

“Such a caring boss," you joked. Nathan turned to address the bullpen.

“Before you all leave, I want to introduce someone .” The five agents stood from their desk to gather round their Special Agent in Charge. You felt a hand on your shoulder—Damon Drew appeared beside you. You’d worked together on a few some task forces. Unfortunately, he had to leave the last one after unexpectedly losing his son, Noah, in a drunk drive accident.

"Thank you for the flowers," he whispered. You gave his hand a small squeeze, not worried about showing emotion in the workplace.

“To my left is Y/N L/N." Your attention switched back to Nathan. "Officially, she’s my assistant. Unofficially? She's just as important as you. You need a vehicle—go to Y/N. Equipment? Y/N. Intel, case files, data? Y/N. She’s a resource on this task force, so use her.” As Nathan spoke, you took in the agents in front of you. You recognised them all from their files you'd read on the flight here.

Amber Oliveras, DEA. Fourteen years with the agency and a reputation built on tough undercover work. Petite, sharp-eyed, and clearly a badass.

Next to her stood Special Agent Keyonte Bell—FBI, through and through. He specialised in terrorist threats, homegrown and otherwise.

Special Agent Evan Shepherd, also FBI, an expert in cyber security. She hadn't been with the Bureau long, she was green and you could tell. It wasn't that she looked out of place, just a little apprehensive. Her blue eyes scanned everything around her, soaking it all in. You just hoped she’d hold up under pressure.

Beside her, towering like a brick wall, was Detective Luke Finau of LAPD's Gangs and Narcotics Division. A behemoth of a man with a hard stare, but word was he wore his heart on his sleeve.

And then there was Mark.

“She’s been with me for ten years." Nathan continued. "You give her respect." You could feel Mark’s gaze burning into your skin. It was like he was willing you to look at him. You didn’t.

You greeted the team—expertly sidestepping Mark—and walked into Nathan’s office.

In the corner, a corkboard covered in maps, post-its and documents detailed Darden's murder. Everything from the crime scene to the potential suspect. A few new pieces of information stood out to you. The team already finding out key points. You scanned the board, absorbing what you could to catch up.

“How was the reunion?”

“Everything I dreamed of,” you said, thick with sarcasm, eyes still on the board.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Nathan crossed his arms.

You turned to face him. “No,” you sighed. “We’ll be professional," you paused. "Well I will. He’s going to try his hardest.” Nathan gave you a look. “I promise. It won’t get in the way.”

“Good. I know there's history there but you work well together. If you weren't there during Operation Quarry..." He shook his head. "It could've gone bad. Really bad." He cleared his throat, shifting into work mode as he sat behind his desk. “Most of those boxes in your office are Darden’s previous cases. We need to check if there’s anything related to the murder or the deposit in his account.”

“Couldn’t trace it?”

“No, origin unknown. Transfer was masked”

You glanced at him. "What about the shooter?"

"Shepherd found us an angle on the cameras. Identified the shooter as Cesar Murillo. We tried to intercept, but he's in the wind."

“So we’re in the dark.”

“We’ve done more with less.”

“There’s that positive spirit,” you teased.

Nathan shook his head. "A colleague of Darden's from Homeland Security. Flagged during the interview, then tried to bolt. We brought him in for questioning. Bell is trying to crack his burner phone now."

You nodded. “Okay. I’ll get started on the files—”

“No. Go home. Get some rest. We can't do anything until Bell gets into Spellman's phone. If something comes up, I'll let you know.” You opened your mouth to argue, but Nathan cut you off with a look.

You groaned. “Fine! I’ll start tomorrow.” As your hand reached for the door, he called out again.

“Y/N—if anything happens with him, you let me know. Got it?”

“I will.” You smiled. “Night, Nathan.”

Entering your apartment later that night was a blessing. Nathan was right—you were more exhausted than you thought. All you wanted was to collapse into bed and forget the day. The temptation to fall into bed fully dressed with your makeup still on was strong. But your brain didn’t work like that. If you didn’t do your pre-bed routine, you wouldn’t sleep.

Quick shower. Pyjamas. Teeth brushed. Skincare. Bed.

As you patted serum into your skin, your eyes flicked to the bottom drawer of your jewellery box. A gold necklace sat inside. A gift from Mark, two years and a lifetime ago.

You hadn’t expected anything from him back then, but he’d surprised you. A delicate chain with a small gold “M.” You’d laughed when you opened it. Was he claiming you? You wore it for two and a half years—and a little after that. It took longer than it should have to take it off after the breakup. Even after how it ended, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Now it sat there, mocking you. You hadn’t thought about it in ages, and suddenly, it was all you could think about. Seeing Mark again, had shaken you. You thought you’d gotten over him. At least a little. You were wrong.

The second your eyes met his, it all came rushing back—every memory. The good and the bad. Late nights talking until sunrise. Making love for hours. Lazy weekends spent tangled in the sheets or at some dive bar. But also the fights. The tears. The gut-clenching worry every time he disappeared on an mission.

It wasn't easy loving Mark Meachum, but you loved every second of it. You understood each other so well. And then he ended it. Just like that.

His excuses were weak. We don’t have a future. Yes, you did. We're not compatible. Yes, you fucking were. You spent months trying to figure out what happened between the two of you. One morning he kissed you goodbye, the next he's packing his bag to leave.

Deep breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

You couldn't do this to yourself again. You wouldn't. All the what-ifs, all the overthinking did the most damage.

Before you could think about it anymore, you decided it was best to go to bed.

Tomorrow would be a new day.

You turned off the vanity light, casting your bedroom in darkness. Slipping under the sheets, you tried to will your mind blank—but it didn’t cooperate. Your thoughts stayed on Mark: the necklace, the way his eyes locked onto you like no time had passed, like the pain and distance didn’t exist.

It still hurt. More than it should have.

But tomorrow, the case would demand your attention. Tomorrow, you’d be back in the bullpen, side by side with the man who broke your heart. And you’d hold your head high. You’d do your job. You’d be the professional you promised Nathan you'd be.

Even if your heart hadn’t quite caught up yet.

Next Chapter

Main Masterlist | Mark Meachum Masterlist | Stay Strong Masterlist

#jensen ackles #gif #mark meachum #mark meachum countdown #countdown us #countdown #countdown amazon prime #jensenackles #markmeachum #mark meachum x reader #jensen ackles countdown #mark meachum x you #mark meachum x y/n #mark meachum fanfiction #mark meachum series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jackles

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yourhispanicgoldenretriever · 1 day ago

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I’m kind of retiring from this fandom soon but I’m still gonna talk about it, and I have a hot take that some might hate, and this is from me having really cool discussions with my friend.

Varian is defended way too much. More than he deserves, even.

And this is coming from someone who used to VOUCH for him in conversations, too. But it’s time for a needed change of heart.

Something that’s said a LOT, is the fact that Varian was punished for his crimes, while Catalina (Red) and Kiera (Angry), were sort of let off the hook.

Catalina and Kiera are very clearly a couple of prepubescent children when they debut, while Varian is a full on teenager who CAN be held criminally responsible. So no, King Frederic was not being a dick. It depends on how that works in some countries, but for theirs, that’s clearly just how it works. And it makes sense.

Varian also did noticeably worse things than they did, or should I tell you to look up his criminal history? Because let’s not forget he very nearly murdered the queen for the sake of saving his father, who very well could’ve stayed dead by the end of the series. Let’s be lucky the hurt incantation even exists and worked on the amber.

Next, Rapunzel cannot be putting her royal duties as princess below Varian. And putting this one character on a pedestal is part of the problem.

An infamous scene in the series is when Varian travels through the blizzard to get help from Rapunzel, while Quirin is actively dying back in Old Corona, and she literally cannot go because she’s in charge of the kingdom, didn’t know this blizzard was going to happen, is worried about her parents who could be dead, just sent her boyfriend and her other friends to go possibly die, nearly lost her only childhood companion trying to fix said storm and save everyone. There’s a lot happening, a lot of possible death happening, one definite one, it’s a lot. Yes…Varian is technically one of her citizens, and yes she did make a promise that we’re lucky she was able to keep later on. But she couldn’t go.

(Edit: Thank you [TangledBea] for specifying that she didn’t explicitly promise to help with Quirin, but that she would help with the rocks when she isn’t so busy. Because she didn’t know that’s what would happen and that just furthers the point. The situation was twisted entirely)

And what I see NO ONE talk about, is the fact that if she did abandon her post to go and see what was wrong, the result would be the same. There would be nothing she could do, she wouldn’t even understand what went wrong, and then there’s no one at the palace to make the big decisions. Quirin would still be long dead already and there’s no way they’d be able to run all those tests, Rapunzel would not be able to ignore the ongoing and worsening blizzard outside.

And before anyone says that Rapunzel could’ve told Varian about the Demanitus device—he did not care about the blizzard altogether. He’s not paying attention to Demanitus when his father is dying.

And my favorite line— “She could’ve gone to check on him!!”

And do what?

We need to understand the result would be the same. It was too late for Quirin. He went out saving his son, he went out being Varian’s father.

And…Varian switched up as SOON as he saw it was too late. Checking on him wouldn’t matter. It was too late for Varian, too. Because even if she checked on him, she still didn’t keep her promise in his eyes.

“She could’ve checked on him but took a painting lesson instead”

Did we watch the episode??? Rapunzel wasn’t in a painting class for shits and giggles. Like God forbid the PRINCESS OF CORONA…has things to do.

When Varian sent them to get the scrolls, she saw Quirin. She did see what happened, and even so…there still isn’t a THING she can do. There isn’t even time to assess the situation. It’s over.

It would all just be filler that does absolutely nothing for the plot, besides bring too much attention to a situation that can’t even be handled for another 2 seasons.

Varian also…doesn’t listen. So in that unlikely scenario, she’d be unable to do anything and Varian would still begging and reminding her that she promised, and it would all be the same.

Honestly, we should take that as great writing because no matter the changes you make, the outcome will be the same, because that’s just who Varian was.

The Cassandra situation.

I’m only bringing this up because I mentioned Catalina and Kiera earlier. Cassandra didn’t serve time in prison for all that she did when she betrayed Rapunzel. And I still fully agree that she should have been penalized for all of that, but I also haven’t heard any opposing opinions or other perspectives on it. But I CAN share my findings that have helped me cope and understand that ending better.

There’s a big difference between Cass and Varian, and it’s how many people they’ve had behind them supporting them from the get-go.

Cassandra has had Rapunzel, Eugene, her father, the guards, the king and queen, all their other companions behind her since day one. While Varian was said to have a bad reputation before his face was even shown for the first time. So in comparison to Cass, Varian had no one.

When it came to Cassandra’s moon arc, of course everyone that loves her and has loved her since the beginning, wouldn’t want to hurt her, give up on her, or by the end of the series, lock her away. There’s too many people on her side. Whereas when it came to Varian, nobody really knew him long enough or well enough to have the same sentiments. He’s not known as a beloved and respected figure and hasn’t been from the beginning.

Something I wanna add that has nothing to do with Cass; Varian’s appearance shouldn’t be enough to sway opinions, either. If he looked even half as average as some of the background characters, I don’t think anyone would feel as strongly. But as soon as you see a cute looking character with big puppy eyes, suddenly they don’t deserve any criticism or punishment for the heinous things they did, or they “deserve better” just because they’re too cute to be treated poorly. Varian wouldn’t even relish in that light if fans were able to say that to his face, because he would want to be more than that, and that’s probably the funniest part.

That’s all I have for the moment, I’ll add things later if I have anything to add. I’d love for anyone to add their own thoughts and opinions because I really like having good talks about my favorite stuff. But I want to hear unbiased opinions, please. And be nice.

And if anyone has already made these points and I just didn’t see, I apologize.

⚠️ Jesus, since I have to say this now. I’m not hating on Varian. I love him as much as you do. This is not a hate post.

#tangled the series #tangled #varian

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finniestoncrane · 3 days ago

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girl the fact i scoured and saw u haven't written a full length hancock fic is crazzyy. so officially submitting a request. maybe some smut where reader gets high for the first time 🤭 u write instructional sex so well from ur cooper howard fic but like idk go wild i just need more hancock immediately

Hancock x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 gosh by the time i got to this i have done a couple little hancock bits and pieces BUT i am excited to do some instructional stuff for him hehehe what i wouldn't give for him to trip sit me while he eats me out PLEASE ☢️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: reader has a vagina but there's no gendered language and no mention of breasts, oral sex, fingering, substance use, guided/narrated orgasm kinda

Hancock's quarters always smelled like recently blown out candles, damp cigarettes and the sticky residue of Nuka cola. He himself had a musk with hints of old dust, likely from his clothing, and a little bit of mint that you could never place where it came from. You could smell it on your nostrils without even having to take a deep breath.

"Ok, big inhale... There you go, that's it... Proud of you, kid. You're a pro already. You might be able to outdo me soon."

You lay back on the lumpy mattress, letting the chemicals pulse through you as you listened to Hancock's voice. It was always softer than you expected, like you could never remember how he sounded despite hanging on his every word from the moment you met him.

"That's it. Is it hitting?"

He didn't wait for an answer, he could already tell. Your eyes were half-lidded, threatening to roll completely back, and you were smiling wide, a wonky grin you had no control over.

"Good! Now you're all ready to relax... Let it happen, let everything in... I'll take care of you."

Your body was exposed in its entirety. Nude and reposed on his bed, there for pleasure with certainty.

"I'm gonna get you warmed up, 'kay? If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing right, huh?"

Hancock's hands began to slide upwards on your thighs, carressing them gently, his body falling to the bed as he let his mouth find your ankle. He kissed up your calf, then your thigh, admiring your smooth skin, enjoying the way it felt against his cheeks which were still soft, but more textured by comparison. He nuzzled against your flesh, ready to be ruined by him, his fingers following in the gentle wake of his lips, jagged nails leaving white, then red, marks that showed the journey they travelled on your body.

"Can I keep going? I wanna kiss you more, I wanna taste you."

You were sure you nodded. You intended to at least. Whether or not you conveyed it clearly was another matter. But you must have, as you were very aware of Hancock's face falling flat against your warm cunt, his flat, or missing anyway, features meaning he could get as close to you as possible.

"You ready?"

Your hand reached for the back of his head, finger tips pressing onto the smooth skin, his hat already removed and sitting to the side of the mattress. The way you pushed him into you told him the answer.

He let his wrinkled lips peck at your pussy, sweet little kisses that felt like gentle flutters over the sensitive skin there.

"Gotta keep it polite at first, I am a gentleman. Sometimes."

After a few more soft pouts that met your eager lips, he pushed out his slightly dry tongue, rough from his years of toxin intake, and he separated your folds with the point of the muscle. That first taste of you had him salivating, drooling from the corners of his mouth as soon as his tastebuds recognised you.

"You're wet, I'm wet. This is going to get messy."

Hancock preferred it that way, he would be the first to admit that.

"We're getting there now, little addition so we can see you through."

With that, he reached one of his fingers to your cunt, letting is slide into you, crooked as he reached for the exact spot he knew would have you moving, and like clockwork, he had your hips rising from the bed and your thighs closing around his shoulders.

"You like that, hm? 'Course you do, takes more than crowd work to win over your constituents. You gotta know exactly where to hit them."

His tongue flitted over your clit, tickling and teasing as his finger explored your insides, his arm pumping up and down gently, but quickly, exactly the way you liked it.

"Just a little bit more. You're doing so well. So relaxed. So happy. Good to keep your neighbours happy."

A second digit slid alongside the first, a little bit more friction, a tiny amount of stretch as he fucked you with his fingers. And to accompany the new pleasure, he clamped his lips around your clit and sucked, harder and harder until he could feel your fingers clawing at him, tearing at the thread bare fabric on the bed below you.

"That's it, almost there. But before I let that happen, tell me. Who's your guy, huh?"

You barely managed to choke out his name before you felt yourself losing all control, drug addled mind slipping into a stupor as your tension and focus dissipated with the arousal of your orgasm.

#hancock #john hancock #hancock fallout #fallout 4 #fallout four #hancock fo4 #john hancock fallout 4 #john hancock fallout #x reader #finnie writes #hancock x reader #john hancock x reader #fallout fanfiction #fallout x reader

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heathenarmyimagines · 1 day ago

Text

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is starting to realize how far her husband is willing to to bring her home.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Escaping Kattegat successfully had felt like a God ordained miracle; like the Lord himself was rewarding you for keeping faith. His Grace had put Floki’s home within walking distance from Ivar’s estate, had moved Amund and Earl Sven to kindness.

Now you were unsure if you would receive another life saving miracle.

Floki wasn’t here and neither was Amund, the Earl had already let you know that he wouldn’t hesitate to hand you over. In his mind you were an escaped thrall, a lost piece of property he found too insignificant to protect.

So what could you do?

The ship was already docked, meaning it wouldn’t be moved for at least a few days before it departed again. The crew would need to rest before setting sail again, meaning they would be in the markets, taverns, Great Hall and, if anyone had fallen ill on the journey, even the Healing Huts.

‘(Y/N)? What troubles you?’ Kendra asked in concern.

‘When did that ship arrive and where is the crew?’ you asked urgently, gripping her by the arms.

‘It arrived just before noon, the Earl was furious with a warship being so bold; he demanded council immediately. Everyone has been whispering through the city, conflict rumors and the like.’

Conflict?

Would Ivar go so far as to start war with an ally, just to capture you?

‘Are they in the Hall now? Where are they now, Kendra?’ you begged.

Kendra’s look of concern was unmasked as she looked around the shed, it was still pretty empty, most of the thralls with more demanding tasks still out working.

‘They are still in the Hall, their meeting was not short from what I’ve heard. Still they were granted hospitality while they rest and prepare for the journey back home. (Y/N) tell me now, are you in danger, Sister?’ she asked directly.

‘Yes, and I need to leave now. Not one man from that ship can set eyes on me.’ you confided, desperate for some type of earthly support in this terrifying moment.

You wouldn’t have survived, yet alone escaped if Floki and Amund hadn’t aided you; and as much as you regretted putting them at risk, you knew getting captured now would only negate their sacrifice.

So now, you would take any assistance you could get, even though you knew you weren't as likely to get away a second time.

This time the situation was not set up for your success at all; there was no ally you could go to, you had no access to a ship already leaving and now you didn’t even have noble status to buy protection. Your only accessible options were to either try to make it to the next village and pray the search doesn’t expand that far, or try to hide deep in the woods and hope they will overlook you.

Neither one seemed likely to succeed.

If Ivar had expanded his search this far, why wouldn’t he have his men search the neighboring settlements? If these men have been receiving his wrath for the entirety of your absence, there is no chance of them being lax in their efforts.

Kendra, of course, did not know fully what was in your head, but she could see your panic rising as your mind raced.

‘How…how far are you willing to go to leave?’ she asked seriously.

Her tone, the look in her eye and sweat on her brow gave it all away; Kendra knew a way out and she always has.

‘As far as my body will take me before it drops. Sister, if you know a way out of the city I beg you to tell me.’

‘I can’t, not alone, we need the others. Megan is bathing in the river, fetch her, and me and Dawn will meet you at the butcher’s house. Quickly, before Hilda makes her way back from inspections.’ Kendra said in a hurried tone as she stood up, pulling you up with her.

‘Do not run, don’t bring any attention to your movement, stay as out of sight as possible, speak to no one.’ she whispered as she casually led you out of the shed.

As soon as the two of you were out of the shed Kendra’s entire body language changed; she was no longer closely huddled to your side conspiratorially and her worried face immediately softened to its usual youthful smile.

‘Thank you so much for helping me, Hilda would be furious if she knew I’d lost one. We’ll have better chances splitting up, so we can both meet back here and hopefully one of us has some good luck.’ she smiled brightly before she took off for the Great Hall.

You were momentarily confused, but you had no time to wonder what Kendra was talking about or if it was some kind of coded message, you needed to get Megan.

From the Slave’s Shed almost the whole city was accessible, the constant flow of thralls meant you could find a footpath leading anywhere that slaves were needed. So getting to the river where most thralls and peasant women bathe wasn’t an issue, but trying to not run was a hard task.

As you walked you kept your head low, but tried to look like you were looking for something in order to keep up the lie Kendra announced. In reality you were making sure you didn’t see any familiar Kattegat faces.

You followed Kendra’s instructions and didn’t call any attention to yourself at all, your body remembering exactly how to blend into a crowd without being noticed.

The river was in the woods behind the market square, which was thankfully not busy as the sun was setting. Most vendors and merchants were packing away for the day as you passed them, and you heard their conversation.

‘I thought for sure it was gonna be a fight when that ship pulled in! All for nothing! Just a cripple who can’t keep a woman!’ an old man griped as he put away his dried fish.

There was a younger man helping him, probably an apprentice since you didn’t recognize him from the shed.

‘And pathetic enough to chase her across the world.’ the young man laughed.

Their words made your stomach almost lurch.

Still you didn’t increase your speed or stray from your path to the river, at last you arrived and found Megan in the water weeping silently.

‘Megan?’ you called softly, looking around to make sure the two of you were truly alone.

She turned to you, startled, and you saw the redness of her eyes and briefly wished you could soothe her right now.

However, you simply didn’t have that luxury.

‘Get out of the water now, get dressed quickly.’ you instructed as you stood on the banks.

‘What is-’

‘No time, we are leaving tonight and I need you to get dressed now Megan!’ you snapped before she could ask questions.

To her credit, Megan got out of the water immediately and dressed quickly without any further questions. She had a look in her eyes and you imagined that your face looked the same way when you decided to leave Ivar’s estate.

Once she had gotten back into her shoes you took her hand tightly in your own and began leading her to the butcher’s home.

You could see uncertainty in Megan’s eyes, but she followed, letting you lead her to what she prayed was a safe haven from her life as a bed warmer.

The butcher was a very wealthy man and his home reflected it. Of course it was close enough to the markets, and it was one of the largest homes outside of nobility.

Now that you had made it here you realized with absolute horror that Kendra hadn’t given you any further instruction past this point.

You didn’t know if you should wait outside the front entrance, or hide behind the house; Dear Lord you didn’t even know if the butcher would punish unclaimed thralls on his property.

Just as a panic was beginning to form in your head, the door opened and Dawn invited them in as if she were the lady of the house. Standing boldly at the entrance and well dressed, if not for her face still being smudged with ashes from cooking today you wouldn’t know she was just a slave.

‘Come in! Quickly before I have you both lashed!’ she barked coldly.

Her harsh tone snapped you out of your confused stupor, you and Megan hurried inside.

Kendra was here as well, but she didn’t seem at all confused about Dawn’s familiarity with the butcher’s home. Inside the decor was impressive, the hearth burning strong as a boar was roasted on a spit, the tempting scent filling the room. The butcher gave it a turn before facing you all directly but his eyes were very focused on you in particular.

He was a big bearded man, with mostly greying hair but he was clearly still able bodied enough to earn his living.

‘Before anything happens you will answer me honestly girl.’ he said.

You nodded.

‘Are you the Princess them warriors are here to take back to your husband, Ivar the Boneless, Son of Ragnar?’

Of course you knew logically that the crew would explain why they were here, but you weren’t prepared to be questioned. Still, you needed help and lying wouldn’t help you now.

‘Yes.’ you confessed.

You felt Megan release your hand and she turned to look at you with hurt and betrayed eyes, but you took her hand again and held it firm.

‘I am (Y/N), Princess Consort of Kattegat. My husband is a cruel man, more cruel than any man you have ever laid your eyes on. He forced me into marriage, he raped me, he humiliated me and he burned my posessions to ash. I stowed away in a box for weeks and chose to be a slave rather than his wife. I am begging you, please do not turn us away.’ you answered.

You hoped that he’d believe you, but you prayed Megan would see that you hadn’t meant to lie or betray her, that every second you spent at her side in silent solidarity was real.

The butcher cursed and sat down in a large chair as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

‘Finn?’

This time it was Dawn who spoke up, she walked over to the man’s side and placed a practiced hand onto his.

‘You promised, you promised and I’ve agreed.’ she said seriously but in a very soothing tone.

‘Everyone stop!’ Megan shouted before Finn the butcher could respond to Dawn.

All eyes were on her now, she looked like a shivering lamb that had fallen into a pond. Her hair was still wet and she was shaking from the cold, but she didn’t look scared. She looked frustrated and confused as she watched her fellow Christian Sister be so familiar with a heathen.

‘Tell me what is happening. Dawn, why are you dressed like that, are we escaping or not?’ she asked.

Dawn and Kendra shared a look before Dawn sighed.

‘Meeting you girls has been my biggest blessing in all the years I’ve lived as a slave, and I never want you to forget that.’ the older woman began as she walked over to you and Megan.

‘You three are escaping.’ Dawn explained.

‘Are you not coming with us?’ you asked.

‘Finn has sent a messenger to the Great Hall, he has paid the Earl for my freedom and blessings for our marriage.’

Marriage?

You looked behind Dawn at the butcher who was still rubbing his eyes in his chair. Dawn was going to marry this Pagan to grant you safe passage out of the city, just as you had married Ivar to save your Sisters back home.

‘You can not do this.’ you rejected.

‘It is done, as his wife I have the authority over thralls. We are going to send you to Herning, Finn has family there that will publicly grant you all freedom. The journey will be long, but there are two horses he-’ Dawn explained hastily before Finn took her hand in his, effectively interrupting her.

‘We…have two horses to spare and can give you all cloaks and food for the road.’ the man said firmly; immediately you understood why he was helping and why Dawn hadn’t taken his aid earlier.

Finn loved her; must have been in love for a long time too if he was willing to smuggle Earl Sven’s slaves out of Brande. Dawn accepting his hand in marriage only now, when it was your only chance of survival, made you feel like you had personally damned her soul and life.

‘Sister Dawn, I cannot accept you doing this for me.’ you said, the guilt already crushing your lungs.

Dawn smiled sweetly, in that motherly way that she often did as she placed a kiss on your cheek. She did the same with Megan and Kendra, who both still looked like they were holding their breath waiting for this incomplete plan to fail.

‘Please do not weep or grieve for me. I have loved this man since I first caught him shorting me on the pork, he is a good man and I trust he will treat me well as his wife.’ the older woman assured, sending her new husband a smile you don’t think you could ever imitate.

‘Why? If you love him, why have you been slaving all these years?’ Megan asked incredulously.

‘I had my faith, and you all…and because I was afraid to love a heathen, afraid to be married to one and become one. Now I can keep you all safe and marry a big old fool that loves me even when our Gods disagree.’

Of all the strange and foreign things you had seen since you had been dragged away from England, this was by far the most unbelievable. A truly happy marriage between a Christian and a Viking.

A male slave came into the home, not bothering to knock, or more so being unable to as his arms were full of modest fur cloaks. The man was clearly a field hand, being large and clearly well fed to become so visibly strong. He was maybe Kendra’s age, nineteen, with blond braided hair and green eyes that never met anyone else’s.

‘Good lad! Hand them out quickly, we must get you all out of the city before people begin leaving the feast.’ Finn instructed.

The feast. You had been so concerned with simply following Kendra’s instructions that you had forgotten that there was a feast taking place in the Great Hall at this very moment. Hilda was probably already taking notice of the absence of four slaves, hopefully the feast would keep her too busy to spare sending anyone to look for you all.

You were handed a fox fur cloak and you quickly put it on, noting that this commoner's fur was the finest and warmest material you had worn since arriving in Brande.

‘It’s only just started by the look of things, the streets are nearly empty. We have enough time to prepare the horses and nothing else. I will saddle them now.’ the slave reported as he tried to leave, but the butcher stopped him with a whistle.

‘These women are to be your companions and charges; they are dear friends to my wife. I am holding you personally responsible for their safety, Rolf.’ Finn warned severely.

The slave named Rolf, nodded and left just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

‘Are we leaving here? Really and truly leaving this place to go be free somewhere else?’ Megan asked, her voice nearly shaking in her hope.

‘Yes, we are leaving, it is up to God to decide if we make it to freedom.’ Kendra said, as she held on to her worrying friend’s hands in support.

‘Freedom.’ you said.

Have you ever truly had freedom? When you were back home you were not free to choose a husband, in Kattegat your husband Ivar owned the air in your lungs and in Denmark you were an actual slave. Could you really go somewhere new and actually be allowed to make your own choices?

Choose what you will be doing, what you will eat, who you will meet, praying in peace even if it's only in the safety of your own humble home.

‘(Y/N).’ Megan called out to you weakly.

‘I am sorry, I couldn’t tell you the truth. I-’ you began to apologize.

‘I understand, you never lied to me. Even if he is your husband, if he treated you like a bed warmer then that is life you escaped. God knows the sins we commit and the sins done against us.’ she smiled as she hugged you tightly.

Soon you felt Kendra and Dawn join in and you just felt them there with you, and you revelled in the fellowship.

‘Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for guiding us to find each other when we were in our darkest moments. We pray you will watch over us and all who have shown us kindness, let them be healthy and prosper here on Earth. Amen.’ you prayed aloud.

You looked up and saw that Rolf had returned and both he and Finn looked uncomfortable with your openly Christian display.

‘And may the Gods bless you both, may they keep your fields plentiful and your fishing nets full.’ you said sincerely.

These men were not Christian, but they were kind and you were truly thankful for their help. They were putting not only their reputations in Brande at risk by freeing slaves, but their lives as well if Ivar’s men found you.

‘May the Gods watch over you all as well, now it's time. Follow Rolf, he knows the way and he knows how to stay out of sight.’ Finn smiled appreciatively.

For the last time you looked over Dawn’s face, searching for any sign that she was not doing this willingly.

Her face was flustered as she hastily helped secure Megan’s cloak, but there were no tears or any of the general puffiness that crying brings. Her hands were not shaking and whenever she glanced over at Sven only gratitude and love was visible in her expression.

Even as Megan and Kendra followed your guide out into the night, you watched the couple.

‘He will not harm me.’ she assured.

Deciding to believe her, if only to placate yourself, you followed your new band of refugees.

‘Hurry this way to stables.’ Rolf ordered before walking off.

You all followed close behind, your heads turning every which way looking out for spying eyes. Rolf did not turn his head once, as if he knew there was no possibility that anyone would dare spy on the noble butcher’s lands.

The stable was astoundingly far from the main longhouse, or at least if felt that way. By the time you had finally set eyes on it up close your thighs were burning. Rolf pulled a carrot out of the cargo one of two saddled horses was hauling.

‘We’ll have to ride doubles.’ he said, not looking back at you as he split the carrot to give both the horses a treat before the journey truly began.

Megan gripped your arm fiercely, and of course you understood why. After only knowing pain from a man’s touch it can become difficult to have any contact with men, she couldn’t ride with Rolf.

You and Kendra looked over at each other and silently Kendra agreed she would ride with the Viking.

Rolf helped you all mount then gave instructions on how to lead the horses and stay saddled if they took off running.

Once he was done with his rushed warnings he commanded his and Kendra’s horse to begin walking, you and Megan followed behind him much less gracefully. You had never properly ridden a horse before, but you found it enjoyable immediately.

The bounce as the horse walked the uneven path, the wind blowing in your face and hair, and the thought that God sent this animal to carry his children to safe haven.

Rolf led your group away from the Great Hall and market, instead you entered the woods leading to the river you had dragged Megan away from nearly an hour ago. However, Rolf did not follow the foot path, instead he passed it by.

‘We will follow the river until nightfall, when we stop to rest the horses we will wash to try covering our scent before we leave. The Earl will need permission from the neighboring Earl to search his lands, by the time it's granted we should be in Herning.’ the man informed.

‘Shouldn’t we wash the scent now? That way they can’t follow us the whole way out of the city?’ Kendra asked.

‘No, he’s right. If we are found while we’re still on his land, it won’t matter if the scent is on us or not. Earl Sven will turn me over to my husband and then do Lord knows what else to the rest of you. We need to put as much distance between us and here as we possibly can before sunrise.’ you replied.

The ride was quiet and tense, no one daring to speak, everyone of you listening closely for approaching footsteps. Even Rolf, who walked so confidently to the stables, was now turning his head occasionally as he led the way.

On and on it went, the tense silence as you all crept through the night following the flow of the river. Every time the wind rustled the leaves one of you looked to make sure it wasn’t guards catching up to you.

It was only after the sun began its rise on to a brand new day did you all breathe a small sigh of relief. It had been a tense eight hours on horseback, but you had survived the night.

You would not be waking up to Hilda’s stick today, and she would not be giving you orders; she no longer had that power over you.

Because you were no longer a slave, not quite yet a free woman…but you were certainly not a slave anymore.

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thevoicefromanotherworld · 15 hours ago

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Eddie Munson request ....👀😏🥵 Reader is quite keeps to herself but is also very much like Eddie (dark clothes metalhead keeps to herself and plays dnd but never thought go join hellfire) anyway but shes also a senior and straight A's and Eddie's math teacher keeps him after class and reader comes in after her history class to see Eddie and she gets shy and waits for the teacher to explain why theyre here and the teacher wants reader to tutor Eddie..😍👀 and Eddie awkwardly quick says yes and offers to take her yo her place and drive and reader is shy but also has a really big crush... anyway fast forward to tutoring and she sees Eddie staring at her tits and shes in like a crop top with a corset so theyre really up there and she starts to ger confident and flirt lifting his chin " Mr Munson are you listening " she teases biting her lip looking at his .... anyway could you possibly end it in dirty filthy smut with sub Eddie 😏

I LOVE THIS REQUEST OMG! Writting this fic took me a while but it was worth it. I hope you like it! 😊🖤☝

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

"PLEASE"

The History exam questions in front of you were a piece of cake.

For someone like you, who was a genius at retaining information, that test didn't worry you at all.

You were in your final year, and all the teachers agreed that you were at the top of your class: excellent grades, you never missed a class, and whenever the teacher asked a question, you were the first to raise your hand.

You couldn't help it; you loved learning, which earned you several envious glances from some of your classmates, but you pretended not to see them.

You weren't going to let them get you down.

You finished writing the answer to the last question on the exam just as the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

The students stood up and began to leave their exam papers on the teacher's desk, time having run out.

The man flashed a friendly smile in your direction when he saw you leave two more sheets of paper besides the exam paper.

Your handwriting was larger than most of the students, so he let you write your answers on separate sheets of paper.

"As punctual as always, y/n," he murmured, making you smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Julliard," you replied, mimicking his gesture before holding the straps of your backpack in your hands and heading for the exit.

You were about to leave when his voice stopped you, making you turn to him again.

"Wait, y/n," the man asked. "Could you wait a moment? I have something to talk to you about."

"Sure," you frowned, puzzled, as you watched the last student leave the classroom. "What is it about?"

The teacher stood up and gestured for you to follow him out of the classroom.

"Please come with me," he said, closing the door behind him.

You walked with him through the hallways until you reached the math class.

As soon as you took a look inside, you knew this wasn't going to go well.

Professor Tennant, who had been teaching calculus since you were in high school, was there with him.

You couldn't help but gulp nervously when he scanned you as you entered the classroom.

You knew him, of course.

Ever since that little act in the cafeteria where he stuck his tongue out and gave a moral lecture to one of the high school quarterbacks, everyone knew who Eddie Munson was.

A boy who dressed in worn-out rock band t-shirts, wore rings on his fingers, and sometimes had black nail polish.

His thick, black hair swirled around his face, like a dense cloud of toxic smoke.

You were absolutely certain that if anyone tried to comb it, the comb would get stuck there forever.

You cleared your throat loudly, breaking eye contact with the boy to head over to your teacher.

"What's going on?" you asked. "What are we doing here?"

"Y/N" the calculus teacher chimed in. "I asked Henry to bring you here because I need to talk to you about something important." He said, glancing at Eddie before looking back at you. "I'll get straight to the point," he murmured. "I want you to tutor Eddie"

You nearly choked on your own saliva at the sound of it.

You felt your heart stop inside your chest, then resume beating normally.

The boy's eyes widened.

Clearly, he was just as shocked as you.

"Why me?" "You're right," you whispered, after composing yourself slightly. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to do it. I have… other responsibilities, I'm…" You swallowed hard. "Getting my driver's license," you lied. "The driving school classes are really tough, and…"

"I'm sure you'll find a place for Eddie," Mr. Tennant pointed out. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think you weren't up to it, y/n."

You glanced between Eddie and your two teachers, unsure of how to respond.

The boy could see the tension and indecision in your eyes, and decided to intervene.

"If my opinion is any help" he shrugged, "I think it's a good idea"

"Great, it's settled then!" said the calculus teacher. "I'm sure you'll achieve great things together," he whispered before gesturing to your history teacher to escort him out of the classroom.

When you were alone together, Eddie allowed himself to observe you a little longer.

Your hair was cut in layers.

You'd held your bangs back with black skull-print hairpieces so that whoever spoke to you could see your eyes when they did.

Your lips were painted black, as were your eyelids.

On your wrists, spiked bracelets studded with the occasional stud adorned your arms.

For your outfit that day, you'd chosen black boots with thick heels, paired with fishnet stockings, a knee-length skirt, and a corset-style halter top.

Eddie couldn't help but stare. He was human, after all, and you were… well, the prettiest girl in school to him, and being standing there looking at him with that lost puppy expression wasn't helping at all.

"We can go to my house, if you want" he said. "There we'll be calm, and we won't have to worry about anything other than taking out the numbers before the numbers take out us." He laughed, and you tried not to stare at him for too long, for fear he'd think you were a weirdo or something.

You thought he was so cute it hurt.

You cleared your throat nervously, and felt your cheeks turn red against your will.

"Do you know…" you swallowed hard. "Do you have a car?"

"I have the truck parked in the parking lot," he nodded, looking at you closely.

"Great, let's go," you blurted out, nervous as you grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder as you walked toward the exit without waiting for him.

Eddie quickly caught up with you, and when he did, you slowed down.

You were nervous, but you weren't a bitch, so since he was offering you a ride, the least you could do was show him the gratitude he deserved.

You sat in the passenger seat, and as soon as you got in, Eddie turned on the radio, where the latest Led Zeppelin album was playing.

You couldn't help but smile as you listened.

"I love this song," you commented before you had time to back out.

"It's my favorite," he smiled, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he drove. "Hey, I'm sorry the teacher is wasting your time with me," he blurted out. "All of this wouldn't be happening if I were a proper student, you know…"

"I don't think I'll waste my time if I can help you pass this class, Eddie," you explained, tilting your head at him.

"You know my name," he frowned, "but I don't know yours. How come?"

"Believe it or not, you're popular, Eddie Munson."

"Oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Why?"

“Maybe your oratorical skills the other day had something to do with it,” you smiled, as he let out a laugh that ran through your entire body.

“I see,” he whispered. “You can’t deny he deserved it,” he muttered. “Someone needs to put those snobby ass-kissers in their place,” he said. “I’m sick of them looking down on me and my friends just because we like to play a fantasy game” He snorted. “I mean, they put balls in baskets and pucks in goals and no one judges them for it.”

“You’re absolutely right,” you blurted out, and he held your gaze steadily at your statement.

“Thanks,” he whispered. “It’s good to know we’re of the same opinion,” he said before removing the key to turn off the car. “We’re here”

Eddie’s house was just as you had imagined: a small house on the outskirts of town, near the woods, where you could hear the sound of the river running and Crickets chirping in the moonlight.

He opened the door and let you in first, a gesture that made you blush again.

"Sorry for the mess," he said after looking at the pile of unwashed dishes on the kitchen counter. "I wasn't expecting any visitors." "Relax, it's nothing," you reassured him.

"We'd better go to my room," he said after taking off the denim jacket he was wearing and leaving it on the coat rack in the entryway. "There's no room for both of us here"

"Okay," you gave a shy smile as Eddie headed upstairs and you followed.

His room was also just as you'd imagined it.

It's not like you'd been thinking about Eddie's room, or Eddie, or him in his bed smoking a cigarette while counting the veins in the ceiling…

"Are you okay?" –he asked, pulling you out of your reverie-

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you smiled weakly. “It’s a nice room,” you commented, looking at the posters on the walls. “I like the decor.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, making room at the desk next to the bed, which you decided not to look at too much. “Some of them are getting old,” he said, pointing at the posters. “But that just gives it a more…”

“Metalhead?” you offered. He snapped his fingers.

“Exactly,” he murmured before sitting down in his chair and pulling out another one for you. “There you go,” he announced.

You sat down next to him, spreading your calculus books and notes on the table.

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll be an expert mathematician," you blurted out, feeling a little more relaxed thanks to the conversations you'd had.

"I don't doubt it" he replied, taking out his notebook and a pencil, just in case he had to jot something down.

"Okay, what do you need me to explain?"

"Let me think…" he murmured, resting his index fingers on his temples in a theatrical gesture. "Everything."

"Okay," you laughed. "What are you worst at?"

"Improper integrals," he said without hesitating for a moment. "I haven't been able to solve any of them."

"It's normal, they're very difficult to solve, and even more so if you're not used to them," you murmured, pulling your hair back into a ponytail, preparing yourself before starting the explanation. "Okay," you took a deep breath and pointed to one of the

"In the textbook, there are different types of improper integrals," you began. "The first are integrals with infinite limits, whose integration limit, as their name suggests, is infinity." You pointed out another example. "Then we have integrals with discontinuities, where the integral has a discontinuity in the integration interval…"

You stopped when you realized Eddie's gaze wasn't on the examples you were pointing out, but on your breasts, which were protruding slightly from the corset you were wearing.

"Mr. Munson," you whispered. "Are you listening to me?" you asked.

"Mhm?" –he murmured, as if he weren't even on that earthly plane-

"My eyes," you whispered, gently holding his chin between your thumb and index finger to lift his head towards them, "are up here."

"Shit," he muttered, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he murmured. "Fuck, I… you'll think I'm a pervert or something, which I'm not, but…"

"Relax, nobody here thinks that," you whispered confidently. "I've seen the way you look at me, Eddie," you murmured, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb. "I know exactly what's going through your mind right now."

"I hope not," he replied, letting out a nervous laugh. "Are you going to…" he swallowed hard, "kiss me?"

“I’m going to do whatever YOU want me to do,” you whispered, “but to know, you have to tell me.” You smiled. “I haven’t developed the ability to read minds yet.”

“Good thing” he murmured, his gaze moving over your face until it reached your lips. “I want you to… kiss me.”

“See? It wasn’t that difficult,” you smiled. “Good boy,” you whispered.

He let out a gasp that you swallowed when you placed your lips on his.

At first, the kiss was slow and peaceful, but as things escalated, it became more and more intense.

You let him remove your corset and cup your breasts in his hands.

You felt the cold of his rings against your warm skin as his hands moved over you.

It was clear this wasn't the first time he'd done this.

"My God, you're… beautiful," he said, making you smile as you reached for the belt holding his pants back and quickly pulled them off.

You gently held his hands above his head, making him look at you firmly.

"You've had your moment," you murmured. "Now it's my turn."

You placed a kiss on his lips before moving down his neck, delving into the spot where his pulse was racing.

Your kisses reached the waistband of his boxers.

You could feel him sucking in his breath as he tried to lift his hips toward you, craving your touch.

“Please, Y/N,” he panted, looking down at you. “I’m… you… need…”

“I’m listening, Eddie” you murmured, holding back an amused smile.

“Say it.”

“Please fuck me, Y/N. I can’t… you have to…”

You loosened your grip on his hands, and he instinctively placed them on your hips as you began to bounce on his cock.

Your gasps and moans filled the room, accompanied by both of your heavy breathing.

“I won’t… last much longer…” he panted. “I-I need to cum,” he moaned. “Please.”

“Do it, Eddie. Cum for me,” you replied, placing both hands on his chest. “Good boy” you whispered, placing a kiss over his heart as he caught his breath.

#byvoice #writters on tumblr #writterscommunity #my fic writing #eddie munson #joseph quinn eddie munson #eddie munson fandom #strangerthings #joseph quinn #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader

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raventarot · 1 day ago

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KATSEYE × Manon dynamic reading

Sophia

7 of swords, the hierophant, the high priestess, 3 of cups, the devil, 10 of wands, 10 of swords, 4 of swords

Something has happened between them. There's dishonesty, a lack of communication and maturity, someone tried to be the bigger person, while the other has betrayed, left alone and backstabbed the other. The high priestess, paired with the 3 of cups and the devil, this is a friendship that looked healthy on the outside, they might have been close friends, but it ended up in a karmic and toxic situation, I don't think they're friends anymore, or they just pretend to be friends, that 10 of wands with the 10 of swords... they tried to make it work, someone has been feeling overwhelmed in this connection, where they felt like it was going nowhere, the 4 of swords, stagnation, exhaustion, and mental confusion. For the oracles cards I pulled the "not enough card", again frustration, lack of confidence and maturity, jealousy and self sabotage, the "sunglasses", that is about watching, stalking, gaslighting, and the "heartbroken" card, a breakup, a separation, a connection that has come to an end.

5 of wands, the tower, the empress + oracles: Boat, seduction, stabbed in the back.

Sophia might see Manon as a threat, not really as a threat but it does like she's lowkey jealous of her, she might see her as attractive and joyful, the boat card, talks about manifestation, moving forward and receiving everything that you want, she could be jealous of her beauty, her talent, her influence, there is definetly something about Manon that Sophia feels threatening. The seduction card being all about being insanely attractive, paired with the high priestess, there's beauty in this reading, but also jealousy.

Daniela

8 of wands, 3 of pentacles, 3 of swords, the tower, the star, the fool, 4 of cups + oracles: heartbroken, coffin, soulmates

It's possible that they used to be very close, But again something has happened, the 3 of swords with the tower, someone betrayed the other, there is a need for them to amend things, but it looks like one of them doesn't want to forgive. Their friendship might have started out really quickly like became friends as soon as they met, one of them was too childish with their actions, they could have said or done something bad and the other felt disappointed and dissatisfied with this connection.

4 of swords, queen of pentacles, justice, 6 of wands, page of pentacles + oracles: camera, the snake, mask.

So I feel like Daniela really cared about Manon, at some point, the 4 of swords is here again, which signifies again stagnation and having to take a break, with that snake card I see some competition. It's possible that she feels like she's on a competition with Manon, on who's better, who does things better etc, the camera card also talks about memories, photo, thinking of the past, maybe they have lots of memories together or used to make lives or videos together of some sort, there is something about cameras and photos that's coming through here. The mask card. She might see Manon as 2 faced, someone that doesn't show her true feelings.

Lara

The high priestess, 3 of pentacles, the wheel of fortune, 9 of pentacles, 5 of cups, 9 of wands, 4 of cups, 4 of swords + oracles: stabbed in the back, girl with a snake, paradise.

Interesting.. So I see instantly with the wheel of fortune and the high priestess that this connection between them was fated, especially with that 3 of pentacles which means they were meant to be in the same work environment as part of their soul contract, however, I don't like it how the 4 of cups and 4 of swords keeps popping out with every single member. There's disappointment in this connection, it's possible that they used to get along, but they don't see the world the same way, I feel like with this spread, they have different beliefs, different point of views and opinions. One of them has set up boundaries, maybe they don't talk much like they used to and they're keeping a distance between each other especially off camera. The "girl with a snake" oracle card.. this card talks about being used by someone who's a narcissist, this is also a card that is about boundaries, and about someone who's selfish and apathetic.

5 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, the devil, the star, 10 of wands + oracles: separation, cassette, not today.

Lara thinks of Manon as someone unstable emotionally, she might see her as successful and pretty and with that devil card I truly feel like Lara sees her as the one with "bad vibes" around her when it's not like that at all. She might have taken some distance from her or left her alone, ignored her calls or texts etc, like there's a big energy of rejection in this reading. She might be jealous of her too it's overwhelming.

Megan

2 of cups, 5 of wands, the fool, 6 of wands, 9 of pentacles, 2 of swords, judgement + oracles: mask, lightning, the chaser

This is a better energy than the others honestly, I feel like they get along pretty well, but that 5 of wands wirh the 2 of swords makes me think that they might argue a lot? Like Lara, they might have different opinions, different point of views etc, there is mutual respect between each other. The lightning card with the mask card suggest that something has happened, probably a heated argument that led nowhere, so they just moved on without resolving the issue. They might be afraid of ruining the group or the friendship between them.

queen of pentacles, king of pentacles, knight of wands, 9 of cups, the magician + oracles: healing heart and girl talk

Okay this makes so much sense, I don't feel like they hate each other, not at all, this reading says that Megan has a lot of respect for Manon, she might see her as successful, and deserving of that success, she finds her attractive and magnetic, but not in a jealous way, the magician is someone who inspiring, someone special that stands out from the crowd, she might think Manon is someone honest, that always speaks her truth. Also the oracles I pulled make so much sense with the previous reading because the "healing heart" is literally a card that talks about someone who goes through so much, yet always manage to go on with their life with a smile on their faces, while "girl talk" is about deep conversations and spending time with friends. So there's a need for both of them to sit down and talk and come to an agreement.

Yoonchae

5 of swords, the fool, 10 of cups, the star, temperance

For some reason they didn't give me lots of cards, I couldn't pull oracles for them because it was so messy, so this makes me think that there's nothing wrong going on between them, they're simply friends and coworkers as well. I feel like they see each other as sisters. Their connection is quiet, maybe they don't talk a lot with one another. The 5 of swords with the fool makes me think they could of had a false start when they first met? I haven't watched their show so I don't know how they were pre debut, but it really feels like they didn't really get along at the beginning, I think they're slowly starting to get closer, but they're not that close yet.

wheel of fortune, king of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, 6 of cups, the tower, page of pentacles

So Yoonchae might think of Manon as someone extremely abundant in every aspect of her life, she might see her as beautiful and as someone who has everything in her life. She might look up to her or ask her for advices. I don't sense anything bad for their connection, but with the tower and 6 of cups, something between them has happened when they first met and this is still bothering Yoonchae, maybe she wishes she could have done or said something different to Manon. But I truly feel like they're trying to work things out to make this friendship work.

That is all my friends hope you don't get mad, remember that this is my own interpretation of the cards, you're not supposed to take everything seriously!!

#kpop tarot #kpop tarot reading #kpop #katseye tarot #katseye

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