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world-of-aus · 2 months ago

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Breaking The Ice

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: More Angsty Dialogue. Perhaps a turning point?

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is here and i apologize for the delay but life caught up and tripped me up on the ice friends! I hope you enjoy this one, part four is in the editing phase and should be released shortly here! Enjoy my little buns!

You were halfway through editing Thursday’s shots when the email pinged.

Subject: Road Game - Montreal (Bus Departs 9:00 AM Friday) From: Bruins Media & Ops To: All Game Day Media Personnel

Hi team, Just a reminder we’re hitting the road tomorrow morning for our weekend game in Montreal. Bus departs from TD Garden at 9:00 AM sharp. Please be on time and ready to roll. — Operations Team

You settle back into the comforting cushions of your couch, the cold press of reality settling somewhere between your lungs. You’d known the game was coming. Of course you did. You’d memorized the Bruins’ media schedule the day you took the job with the team. But something about the email, about seeing it, turned your spine to glass. You hadn’t been prepared for this.

You were going to be on a bus with Bucky. With the team you reminded yourself.

A long, quiet ride. No press room noise to buffer the silence. No lens to hide behind. No safe, sterile space between the two of you. Just shared air, shared memories, and all the things the two of you hadn’t said.

Your laptop screen dimmed slightly as your fingers froze on the trackpad. The photo still open on the screen was the one you hadn’t been able to delete yet; Bucky, from the photoshoot, caught between a soft laugh and something quieter. That look that lingered. The one you’d seen once before, years ago, the night he’d promised not to forget you.

You clicked away from the image like it had burned you.

Your phone buzzed a moment later. Wanda.

Wanda: You good for the bus tomorrow? Want to sit together?

You hesitated for a beat before typing back.

Y/N: Yeah. Please.

You didn’t trust yourself to be alone with your thoughts. Not on that bus. Not with the echo of his voice still under your skin.

The next morning

The bus rumbled to life as the last few players climbed aboard, coffee cups in hand, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. You found a seat near the middle of the aisle beside Wanda, holding your camera bag on your lap like it might keep you safe, keep yourself from doing something silly.

The hum of voices rose and fell around you, players bantering, coaches murmuring over tablets, the rustle of protein bar wrappers and gear.

But none of it penetrated through you. Your thoughts already elsewhere, still stuck in that studio, with golden light spilling over Bucky’s jaw, with the sharp edge of what could’ve been catching in your chest.

Wanda didn’t speak right away, offering you a granola bar with a nudge of her elbow against yours. You took it, unwrapping it slowly, your head falling against the cool of the window with your first bite into the morning breakfast.

“He looked at me like I was still that girl,” you finally said, your voice a whisper above the engine's hum.

Wanda turned to you, quiet but present. “You’re not though.”

“I know,” you said with a nod. “But it felt like… like time folded. Just for a second. Like I was right back there on the rink with him, under the stars. Like none of the years in between mattered.”

Wanda didn’t interrupt. She just listened, eyes soft and steady as she watched you.

“I told myself I was over it,” you whispered. “That I’d moved on. That I could stand in front of him and feel nothing but professionalism. But then he stood there and looked at me like I still mattered. And I -” You blinked, jaw tightening. “I hated how much I wanted to believe it. To believe him. How much I still want too.”

Wanda reached over, squeezing your hand gently with yours. “You don’t have to hate that part of you, y/n. The part that still cares. That part that loved him. You can’t just un-love someone because they disappeared. The memories you two shared are always going to remain.”

You let the silence sit for a moment. Outside the window, the city peeled away into blurred trees and faded highways.

“He was everything,” you admitted quietly. “My best friend, my future, my safe place. And he let me go without even trying to hold on.”

“And now he’s here,” Wanda said gently, “and it’s like reopening a wound you thought had healed.”

You nodded, numbly taking another bite of granola.

“He didn’t just break your heart,” Wanda continued. “He disappeared from your life like you didn’t exist. But you do. And you’ve built something beautiful from the pieces he left behind.”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. “So why does it still feel like I’m the one who got left behind? If it truly rose above it all, if I moved on why do I still feel like this?”

“Because you never got the closure you deserved,” Wanda said. “But you’re here now. And he gets to see the version of you that survived without him.”

You gave a quiet laugh, watery and soft. “The version of me who’s totally holding it together on this bus ride?”

Wanda smirked. “Hey, you’re doing better than me. If my ex showed up with cheekbones like that and a redemption arc, I’d throw myself out the window.”

That cracked a real smile out of you. Brief, but real.

They sat like that for a few minutes, the hum of the bus filling the quiet spaces between them. You leaned your head back, eyes closed, letting the movement of the road settle your nerves.

When your opened them again, your gaze drifted forward, instinct or something heavier pulling you there.

Bucky sat two rows ahead, his head leaned back against the hard head rest, earbuds in. As if he could sense your watching eyes, he tilts his head slightly just enough so that his eyes find yours through the narrow space between the seats.

His lips barely curl.

Your throat goes tight.

You turn away, heart pounding against your ribs like it still remembered what it felt like to be seen by him. Really seen.

Wanda watched you quietly. “You okay y/n?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared out the window and whispered, more to yourself than anything, “I don’t know.”

By the time the team bus pulled into the circular drive of the hotel in downtown Montreal, the late afternoon light had turned the city to gold. You stepped off the bus behind Wanda, your camera bag slung over one shoulder, as you tried not to let the weight of your thoughts show on your face.

Inside, the lobby buzzed with check-ins, team staff passing out room keys, and a concierge smiling too brightly at the herd of oversized athletes crowding their quiet foyer. You accepted your keycard and followed Wanda into the elevator, nodding politely at a couple of assistant coaches you shared the bus ride with. You rode up with Wanda to your floor only parting ways when you each reached your respective doors, the two of you promising to find one another later once you had settled in.

With a press of your room key to the door, you were slipping in, the hotel room door clicking shut behind you with a soft, solid thud. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Muted sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows over the sleek, modern furnishings. There was a king-sized bed with perfectly tucked corners, a streamlined desk, and a soft chair by the window that looked more decorative than comfortable. The air carried that familiar, sterile scent of industrial-grade linen wash and lemon polish—clean, impersonal, temporary.

You dropped your camera bag on the desk, pulling the strap over your head, rolling your shoulders. The pressure of the long day settled there like it always did. But today, it wasn’t just the weight of the equipment or the constant focus behind the lens.

It was the weight of him.

You moved to the bed and sat on the edge, elbows on your knees, face cradled briefly in your hands. The memory of the bus ride pulsed behind your closed eyes, Bucky’s voice low and tentative, Wanda’s knowing glance, the quiet ache in your chest that hadn’t dulled all day.

This wasn’t just any away game.

It was the yet another confrontation with the past you’d tried so hard to leave behind.

Your phone buzzed from where you’d tossed it on the nightstand.

You reached for it lazily, the familiar glow washing across your tired features as you unlocked it.

Subject: Team Dinner — Mandatory Attendance (Tonight @ 7 PM) From: Bruins Media & Ops To: All Staff & Personnel

Hi all, Please join us in the Montrose Room (second floor, off the main elevator) for a team dinner this evening at 7:00 PM sharp. This is a formal welcome dinner ahead of tomorrow’s game. Business casual, Bruin's gear optional. — Operations Team

You stared at the message for a long moment.

Mandatory.

Of course it was.

A humorless breath slipped out through your nose. You flopped back onto the bed, arms spread wide like you were trying to melt into the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Seven o’clock. That gave you just under two hours to shower, dig out something vaguely presentable, and brace for the very real possibility that you’d be eating dinner across the room from the man who once promised you forever.

You let your eyes close, just for a minute.

Long enough to feel the pull of old hopes and fresh wounds curl quietly beneath your ribs.

You didn’t know how long you laid there on the bed just staring up at the ceiling, trying not to feel anything too deeply.

But your mind wouldn’t slow down, enough for you to catch up. It kept pulling you backward through frozen memories of a different rink, a younger version of yourself holding a camera with frozen fingers and a heart full of unspoken things. A boy who skated up to you with wind in his smile and snowflakes on his lashes. Who called her Hot Shot like it was the softest secret in the world.

You rubbed the heel of your palm against your chest like that might quiet the sting.

You were young, you told yourself. You should’ve known better than to believe in forever.

But you had believed. Fully. Recklessly. Enough to let yourself hope that love could stretch across miles, across fame, across time.

A sharp knock jolted her out of your spiral.

You sat up fast, blinking. “One sec,” you called, quickly dragging yourself off the bed.

You opened the door, and of course, it was Wanda.

Loose joggers, hair in a topknot, hotel slippers like she owned the place. A granola bar in one hand, water bottle in the other. The look on her face said she knew exactly what she was walking into.

“Thought I’d find you marinating in your feelings,” Wanda said, walking in without waiting for permission.

You shut the door behind her with a soft laugh that almost caught in your throat. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you. And because the second I saw that dinner email I figured you’d either be sleeping, crying, or composing an emotionally complicated photo essay in your head.” She dropped the water bottle onto the nightstand and flopped down beside you on the bed. “Please tell me it’s not the crying one.”

You cracked a smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not yet.”

Wanda peeled open the granola bar and offered you half, a smile reaching her eyes when you took her offered half.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat, shoulders brushing, the quiet full of history and comfort.

“I saw him watching you on the bus.” she spoke softly.

You didn’t look at her. “I know.”

“He looked wrecked y/n.”

Your throat tightened. “So did I.”

Wanda’s hand found yours, squeezing. “You’re allowed to be hurt, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“I know,” you whispered. “It’s just, it’s harder when he’s here. When he’s real again.”

Wanda nodded. “You think you’re prepared for that moment. That you’ll be cool or detached or emotionally evolved. And then boom, there he is, and it’s all back.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m not mad that it still hurts. I’m mad that part of me still -” You cut herself off.

“Still loves him?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Wanda leaned her head against your shoulder. “You don’t owe him anything tonight. Not a look. Not a smile. Not forgiveness. But you do owe yourself kindness. So if you want to go to that dinner and fake-laugh at the trainer’s dumb jokes just to survive it, I’ll be right there doing it with you. And if you need to ditch halfway through and eat vending machine chips in this room instead, I’ll do that too.”

Your throat ached with unshed tears.

“You always show up for me,” you murmured.

Wanda bumped your shoulder. “Yeah, well. You’d do the same. But also I’d like to see you in that black top you packed. The one that makes you look like you run an art gallery and secretly ride a motorcycle.”

You laughed, finally—a soft, breathy thing that pulled something loose in your chest.

“Okay,” you said, wiping beneath your eyes. “Okay. Let’s get ready.”

After Wanda left you to get ready in her own room, you stood in front of the full-length mirror near the closet, still wrapped in a towel, hair damp from the shower you had forced yourself into. Your suitcase lay open at your feet like a challenge, clothes folded in half-organized piles, none of them quite right.

You stared at yourself for a long moment. Water clung to your collarbone, slid in slow droplets toward your chest.

Part of you wanted to dress down, blend into the background like you always did when things felt too loud inside. But Wanda’s voice echoed gently in yout ears:

You don’t owe him anything… but you do owe yourself kindness.

And maybe kindness tonight meant feeling a little powerful.

You pulled out the black top, the one Wanda had mentioned. It was simple, but sharp. Sleeveless, with a soft drape at the neckline that hinted at confidence you didn’t always wear. You paired it with dark jeans and low boots, brushed a warm shimmer over your cheeks and added a swipe of deep rose to your lips.

Nothing loud. Just enough to feel steady.

You clipped on a pair of small gold hoops, running your fingers through your hair to give it shape, and stood back to look at the final version of yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t look like the girl on the ice with Bucky Barnes. Or the girl who had waited for calls that never came.

You looked like y/f/n y/l/n. Bruin's photographer. A woman with your own damn light.

Still, your hand hovered over your necklace—a delicate gold chain with a tiny camera charm you hadn’t taken off since college. Bucky had given it to you the night before he left for the draft.

You let your fingers graze it for a beat too long, then turned away.

The elevator ride to the second floor was quiet. The hallway buzzed faintly with voices as you neared the Montrose Room, golden light spilling out from the open double doors.

You paused just outside, taking a slow breath.

Inside, the space was warm and softly elegant. A long dining table stretched down the center, already surrounded by staff and players. A buffet lined the far wall, and someone was pouring wine into glasses at a side station. It smelled like garlic, fresh bread, and some kind of roasted meat.

You spotted Wanda across the room waving you over with a subtle nod.

You moved toward her, weaving past a group of assistant coaches and an equipment manager. Conversation buzzed around you; laughter, chairs scraping lightly, the kind of team banter you’d grown used to tuning out when you were behind the lens.

Wanda had saved you a seat at the far end, tucked just enough away from the center to offer breathing room. You slipped into it gratefully.

“You look good,” Wanda said as she leaned in. “Like, boss bitch good.”

You gave her a dry smile. “Let’s hope I don’t sweat through it.”

But before Wanda could respond, the room shifted.

A slight hush fell, one of those subtle, collective shifts of energy you only noticed if you were paying attention.

You turned toward the doorway.

And there he was.

Freshly showered, damp curls falling across his forehead, dressed in dark slacks and a slate button-down that pulled slightly across his chest. His team jacket hung over one arm, slung casually like he didn’t know the effect he had walking into a room.

He scanned the space, eyes grazing across people, until they landed on you.

For one second, just one, time dropped out.

Your breath caught. Your stomach folding in on itself, sharp and sudden.

His expression didn’t change. Not much. But something flickered there, an ache. A memory, sharp and swift.

He didn’t look away.

Neither did you.

Then, slowly, he gave a slight nod of his head. Almost imperceptible. A gesture meant just for you.

You lifted your chin a fraction. Not defiant. Not open. Just steady.

The moment broke when the head coach clapped a hand on Bucky’s back and drew him further into the room with a grin and a loud welcome.

Wanda reached for her wine. “Well,” she murmured. “That wasn’t nothing.”

You reached for yours too. “No,” you said quietly. “It really wasn’t.”

Dinner unfolded around you like a movie you weren’t fully watching.

You kept your eyes on the people closest to you; Wanda, a few assistant coaches, some of the PR staff you saw daily, but you felt Bucky across the room like a pull in your chest, a thread stitched into your ribs that tugged tighter every time he laughed or spoke.

He was seated just a few spots down from you, angled across the table. Not close enough to speak without raising your voice, but close enough to feel the heat of his presence in every cell.

You caught him watching you twice, once when you tipped your head back to laugh at something Wanda said, and again when you leaned in to share a quiet word with the video analyst beside you. Both times, when your eyes found his, he didn’t look away.

Neither did you.

But you didn’t smile. And he didn’t either.

The tension settled like static around the two of you.

As dessert plates were cleared and a few of the younger players got up to grab seconds, you excused yourself quietly and stood, moving toward the water station near the back.

You were reaching for a glass when you heard the quiet, familiar scrape of a chair behind you.

And then, his voice, low and close.

“‘Scuse me.”

You turned, but too late. He brushed past you, his shoulder just barely grazing yours.

The contact was fleeting, but it lit your nerves like a struck match.

You caught his scent, something clean, woodsy, familiar in a way that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten.

Bucky didn’t stop walking.

But as he passed, his fingers ghosted across the rim of the water pitcher like he needed something to do with his hands. Like he knew you were watching him.

And you were.

God, you were.

Back at the table, Wanda gave you a look that said everything.

You just shook your head and sipped your water like your heart wasn’t crawling up your throat.

The hotel dining room had thinned out to soft murmurs and clinking glasses as the night grew later. Most of the team and staff had already made their way to the elevators, laughter echoing faintly from the lobby as goodbyes were exchanged.

You stayed behind, lingering near one of the empty tables, your fingers loosely wrapped around your half-full glass of water. The glow from the sconces along the wall cast a soft amber hue across the room. You felt him before you saw him, his presence, a shift in the air behind you. You didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Bucky stepped up beside you, close but not touching. Not yet.

They stood there in silence for a long moment. No words. Just the weight of four years, of all the could-have-beens and never-should-haves hanging between the two of you like a fog.

When you finally glanced over at him, you found his gaze already on you.

And then, softly earnestly Bucky spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” he said. “Back at the shoot.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t look away either.

“About how missing someone doesn’t mean you get them back.”

Your throat tightened. Those words had haunted you for a long time that night haunted you more after you’d said them aloud to him.

Bucky exhaled, his voice low and steady. “You were right. I know nothing I do can erase what I did. And I know I don’t get to just ask to go back.”

Your expression softened, just barely. You didn’t trust yourself to speak yet.

“I’m not asking to pick up where we left off,” he said gently. “I know that’s not fair to you. But I’m here now, and I just - I want to try. To build something that makes sense between us again. Even if it’s not what it used to be. Even if it’s just a way to be around you without all the silence.”

You looked down at your glass for a moment, then placed it gently on the table.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you said quietly.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Because it still hurts?”

You nodded once. “Because I don’t think I could survive losing you again.”

Those words landed heavy. Bucky’s jaw flexed, his eyes shining under the soft light.

“I would never let that happen again,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “I know I made the mistake once letting the noise, the pressure, everything drown out what mattered most. But I’ve changed. I’ve had to. And I will never put us in that place again. Not you, not me.”

You blinked hard, and for a moment, you looked like you might break again. But you didn’t. You stood tall, still guarded, but not closed.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered. “And i think part of me already does, because a part of me always will."

He nodded, slowly.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “I don’t need everything. I just need a beginning.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time, it didn’t feel sharp or strained. It was quieter. Gentler. A soft space where something might start to grow again.

You glanced down at the floor, then back up at him. “This doesn’t fix everything you know that right?"

“I know,” Bucky said. “But maybe it’s a step.”

Your lips curved, barely a flicker of a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes but held promise.

“Maybe.”

He didn’t push for more. Didn’t reach for your hand or ask for one more chance.

He just stood there with you in the quiet, letting you know without words that you weren’t alone in this anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to carry it all by yourself.

The hallway was quiet as you walked back to your room, the low hum of the hotel’s dim lighting buzzing faintly above you. The long day pressed into your limbs, but your mind felt strangely light.

Bucky’s voice still echoing softly in your ears. “I just need a beginning.”

You stopped in front of your room, slid the key card into the lock, and stepped inside. The door clicking shut behind you. The air in the room was cool and still. Familiar. Safe.

You leaned back against the door, your eyes fluttering closed.

It wasn’t forgiveness yet. It wasn’t even closure. But it was something. A breath. A beginning. And after years of carrying the ache of what you’d lost, tonight felt like the first time you hadn’t felt buried under it.

You crossed the room slowly, placing your boots by the chair, your fingers brushing over the neatly made bedspread. Outside the window, the city blinked on, lights stretching into the distance like tiny stars.

Maybe, you thought.

Maybe this didn’t have to be as complicated as you’d feared. Maybe the heartbreak you’d both endured had carved out space for something new to grow—something gentler, steadier.

You were exactly where you’d dreamed of being. Photographing for the team you’d loved since childhood. Carving your place into this fast, shining world. And Bucky—he was here too, standing tall in the dream he’d chased all his life.

You had both made it.

So why couldn’t you be happy?

Why couldn’t you, in your own way, be happy together?

You slid under the covers, the warmth of the sheets wrapping around you as you exhaled slowly, deeply.

Maybe this was your step. Not toward what you used to be, but toward who you were now.

And for the first time in years, that thought didn’t scare you.

It gave you peace.

And as your eyes drifted closed, you let herself believe just a little that maybe they could move forward. Together.

Maybe this could be a start.

#hockey player!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au

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exhaslo · 2 years ago

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Kinktober Day 1- Mafia! Miguel O'Hara

In this Universe, it was not just the villains' you had to be afraid of. In every corner of the city of Nueva York, there were members of the mafia. The amount of families that ran different parts of this city were starting to make one lose count. No matter how safe you felt, you weren't. Everyone, including you, knew better than to mess with anyone. It was best to keep your head down and mind your own business. At least you wanted to.

It was just another ordinary work day for you. The alarm clock was put on snooze more times than you could count, and now you were running late. Hurrying down the street with a poorly prepared sandwich in hand, you begged to make it in time for work. It was a miracle that the clothes you wore even matched properly. Honestly, preparing the night before always sounded like a great idea. It was just a shame you were too tired to do so.

Right as the signal changed to walk, gunshots were heard. Everybody ran the opposite direction, knowing better than to get anywhere near. Everyone, except you. Your lateness was going to get you either fired or killed. As of right now, being killed sounded better than being fired. At least it did in your mind before you actually ran towards your job in the mist of another gang war. The tears in your sandwich were going to be a grim reminder to wake up earlier tomorrow-if you lived till then.

----------

Miguel sat in his vehicle, watching his men go at it with the members of the Vulture clan. He had warned them several times to do this inside, but what point was there to talk with idiots? Needing some fresh air, Miguel stepped out of his car. How much longer until the other side gives up? Wanting to reach for his own gun, Miguel heard the cries of a woman. It was an all too familiar sound. He knew of the effect he had on them.

"Oh?" A slight smirk formed against his lips as he watched you run through the middle of a warzone, "Qué idiota. (What a dumbass)" He muttered under his breathe.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't be late next time! I'm sorry!" You cried repeatedly as you fell on the ground, holding your head.

Miguel found you entertaining. He drew his gun and proceeded to make his way over to your trembling body. Luckily, he only had to fire a few times before his foot was near your (h/l) (h/c) hair. With ease, he grabbed your arm and lifted you towards him. Like instinct, you grabbed onto him, apologizing like there was no tomorrow. A smug grin formed against his lips.

"Parece que me encontré con un perro callejero. No puedo dejar a una cosita tan bonita como tú aquí sola. (Looks like I found me a stray. Can't leave a pretty little thing like you out here alone)" He said lowly. Finally, you raised your head,

"I-I'm so sorry. I was just late for work and...and...You have a gun." Your words kept stuttered as your brain finally started to connect the dots, "I swear I didn't see anything! I'm just passing through! I'm so sorry!"

"What's your name?" Miguel asked as he led you to his car.

"(Y/N)" You replied, watching his every move.

You were terrified. You had almost died and were saved by a mafia member. Now your life was in his large hands. His beautiful red orbs felt like they were staring into your soul. There wasn't even a speck of dust on this man's clothes. He was so tall and seemed to be on another level than the other guys. Perhaps owing your life to him was not so bad after all. He was handsome and honestly, if he asked you to do something, you probably would.

"Te haré un buen uso si te gusta lo que ves. (I'll make good use of you if you like what you see.)" Miguel's smirk only widen. It took you a minute to slap your flustered cheeks and get your head out of the gutter,

"Huh? I'm sorry, I don't understand Spanish." You politely told him, not wanting to anger the man with a gun. Miguel motioned you aside before entering the car as well,

"I asked where you worked. I'll take you there."

"Are you sure? I'm already being a burden to you."

"You'll be paying me back of course," Miguel's eyes pierced yours, "Just do what I say and we'll be even."

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"Ugh, Qué descuidado. Nunca has estado con un hombre, ¿verdad? (How sloppy. You've never been with a man, have you?)" Miguel hissed as you sucked on his large cock.

His hand held your head, guiding you down his shaft. Tears threaten to spill as you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. He was far too long and you had no experience doing something like this. Stroking your hands against his cock, you tried your best to please him. He did save your life after all. Swirling your tongue against his tip, you felt him twitch. He hand returned to your head and started to move you on his own. It hurt as he fucked your mouth, but it made you feel hot.

"Swallow." Miguel commanded as he shoved his cock deep into your mouth. It burned and hurt your jaw, but you did as he said, "Good girl."

You let out a cough, trying to hold your composure. Miguel lifted you up and placed you on his lap. He slid your underwear to the side, sliding a finger inside your wet hole. Moans escaped your throat as you held onto his shoulders. His thick fingers stretched you out better than your own toys. It felt good. With a sudden curl, Miguel had you putty in his arms. Your moans were getting louder as your felt your climax approaching.

"Que guarra. A punto de correrme solo con mi dedo. (How slutty. About to cum with just my finger.)"

If only you knew what he was saying. It turned you on more just thinking about the naughty things he was calling you. This sexy stranger who saved your life was now about to fuck you in his car. You should be regretting this, but your better judgement was telling you otherwise. Feeling Miguel remove his finger made you mewl in protest. His placed his fingers' in your mouth as he lowered your waist.

Your eyes widen as you felt him slowly enter your throbbing hole. It was hurting. Your small hands gripped onto Miguel, trembling from the feeling of being stretched out. Instead of slowing down, Miguel held your waist and slammed you down on his cock. Your back arched as you let out a cry from your orgasm. He was so deep inside you. Your body felt so full that it made your brain all fuzzy. This was something knew that you weren't sure if you wanted to stop.

"Already? We still have 20 minutes until we arrive at your work. Don't give up on me now," Miguel told you as he thrusted his hips up.

Another cry escaped your throat as you felt his tip hit your cervix. Miguel was enjoyed this by the lick of his lips. He demanded that you started moving. That hungry look in his eyes every time you bounced on his cock. You felt like you couldn't get enough. Your legs were shaking as each thrust made your stomach turn. Sloppy moans and cries were all you can come up with as his cock bullied your cunt. This man was going to destroy you. Feeling his hands grip your hips was a sign.

"I'll take over now," Miguel's smirk never faded, "Voy a hacerte mi juguete personal, cariño. No tendrás que preocuparte por llegar tarde al trabajo si tu trabajo es mi polla dentro de ti. (I'm going to make you my personal toy, sweetheart. You won't need to worry about being late to work if your job is my cock inside you.)" He whispered in your ear.

Whatever he said made your body shiver in delight. Miguel moved you against the car seat, slamming his hips into yours. He held your waist up, enjoying the view. Your lewd expressions were one of a kind. The way your boobs bounced with every thrust and how your body twitched when he pounded you were delightful. He could soak in every fiber of your being. You were his new favorite. Feeling your hole suck him made his smirk widen more.

He moved your legs above his shoulders, enjoying your cried of pleasure as he ventured further inside you. His cock twitched as he neared his orgasm, wanting you to reach yours first. He leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth while his thumb rubbed your clit. His ears perked up as you called his name out. Your body arched once more as he cam on his dick. Miguel chuckled as he picked up his pace. He groaned lowly, shoving himself as far back as he could, coating your walls white.

"M-Miguel....That...was amazing," You barely breathed out. Miguel fixed his hair before reaching for your cheek,

"We're not done yet. We still have 17 minutes until you reach your job...If you decide to work there anymore when I'm done with you." He chuckled darkly, thrusting his hips into once more. You let out a cry, gripping onto the car seat,

"B-But I have...to ah...w-work for...ah~" Your words fell on deaf ears. Miguel was going to fuck the idea of work out of your brain,

"You got saved by me. Whether you like it or not, you're going to be mine now."

"M-Mig-"

"Not everyone gets a chance to be the leader's pet. Enjoy my cock inside you because I'm not letting you go."

Only a whimper could escape your lips as Miguel kept bullying his cock inside you. Your legs started to grow numb. All you could feel is Miguel.

------------

"Everyone is dismissed." Miguel spat as he finished his meeting, "Lyla, make sure Peter gets informed on what we discussed. Make sure he gets here on time next time."

"Yes, sir." Lyla said with a chip.

Once everyone was gone and the door was shut, Miguel moved back slightly. A smirk formed against his lips as he looked down at you. You had been under his desk during the whole meeting, sucking and playing with his cock. Miguel reached out to stroke your hair, enjoying you nuzzle your head into his hand.

"You've gotten better, cariño. How naughty of you to try and distract me while working." He said with a grin. You climbed onto his lip, bringing him in for a kiss,

"At least I was early," You said with a soft whine. Miguel agreed before filling you with his dick, "Mhpm, I-I was going to...hah...ask...if we can, ah, g-go for d-dinner." You whimpered, trembling at his brutal pace.

"¿Cena? Estoy a punto de llenarte aquí y ahora. (Dinner? I'm about to fill you up right here and now.)"

"M-Miguel..." You moaned, holding onto him as you felt your high approaching.

Miguel licked his lips as he watched you melt under his touch. You had been by his side for almost a year now. The family was hesitant to welcome you, but quickly did once they saw how much Miguel enjoyed your company. Needless to say, you never had to worry about being late for work again. Your job was to keep Miguel satisficed, which was a simple task since you lived with him. From dawn to dusk, Miguel used your body to fuel his lust. He liked you far more than anyone before and that was not going to change anytime soon. You belonged to Miguel now and forever.

"Say it again for me." Miguel demanded as he laid you against his desk. You cried softly as he pounded your poor pussy,

"T-Thank you for saving me,"

"Una vez más. (One more time.)"

"A-Ah~ T-Thank y-you for saving me~"

"Good girl."

#miguel o'hara #kinktober #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099

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sanzaibian · 1 year ago

Text

“Sir, here are the Beatty files.” The young woman told me, handing a USB key.

I have heard a lot about these files. They were intercepted in the town after which they’re named by the secret services a while ago, but were encrypted in such a puzzling way that only now can we view them. And of course, I am the first one to be able to review its content.

I know a lot of things, as it is my job to be informed of anything and everything happening around the world. I know the plans of China over Taiwan, the successor to the Ayatollah, the contents of the talks between Putin and Kim Jong-un, and all the current US military strategy. In my line of work, everything can happen, yet at no single point could I make sense of the Beatty files. Nor could anyone else for that matter.

I excused the young woman, bidding to her my thanks for the deciphering team, and went to the unused laptop I had prepared. When it comes to matters of national security, I cannot afford to be careless, and let anyone unlicensed to get access to this. So brand new laptop, created by us, which has never been opened, to open these files.

And so I fiddled with the parameters a bit, entering the secret code, and inserted the USB key to view its contents. Inside were a few files, all of which videos. Their names were not informative, since I know for a fact that their original names were not recovered, so I just opened the first file in the list.

The video opened looking down in a white cubic room, meaning it was very likely a security camera recording. In addition, there was the time indicated on the bottom right, yet something felt weird about how it was displayed… 15:58… 15:59… 15:60 ???... 16:01, etc. Why is it not counting time correctly ? Nobody indicates time like this ! It’s wrong, it’s incorrect ! I just opened it and there’s already something I cannot in any way explain !

Taking a deep breath, I look at the center of the screen, in which I have a good view of a man sat in a chair. He has tanned skin, black hair and black stubble, and a very developed musculature. He looks to be a very attractive middle-eastern man, although I cannot say which ethnicity he precisely has.

The chair he’s sitting on is quite massive, and he looks almost as if he is… restrained in it ? Yes, there seems to be little handcuffs tethering him to the armchairs. But most striking are the numerous tubes going out from his arms, legs, torso and even head, linked to some types of medical appliances I cannot recognize, as well as to a sort of glass tank.

Suddenly, I notice the deep voice of a man. I up the volume, and hear… a language I cannot understand.

“Tzai en 19/03, 2:17, en tzoujkbruoi odogattzion program en Scipio Labratory. Ny hse Hk. Adtem, tzai widt nyn hskadiais, Sjd. Fingtrosy ÿ Sd. Vagohs, ÿ naum wom fill no tzoujketvÿsn ekspÿrians widt no #1073 bymarjen.”

At first I get some German vibes from it, but then it seems to be Polish, and then French… Whatever that language might be, it is not one I have ever heard. The man in the chair looks around, seemingly half-dazed, as if he was drugged. I don’t know what will happen to him, yet I get the feeling that it won’t be a desirable fate.

Suddenly, another voice, that of a woman by the looks of things, speaking in that same strange language.

“Hsüzmalhsÿv drël en im.”

Then a buzzer sound. There seems to be some white substance flowing inside the man’s body, through the tubes from the medical appliances. As it flows, I can see his eyes starting to become more droopy, before fluttering, and then closing. At the same time, his body starts floundering in the restraints, as if he was keeping himself from falling asleep. But as time went on and the white liquid ran dry, all of his muscles were relaxing and his stance become limp, like that of a dysfunctional robot. However, looking at his accelerating breathing rhythm, it seems to my trained eye that he is not actually asleep. It’s only his body refusing to function correctly.

“Drël ingkatzt. Etvÿsn harjimÿll.” Says another voice, deeper than the last one, but not as deep as the first one.

I don’t really know what’s happening. If the counter on the bottom-right of the screen wasn’t ticking up, I would have thought that the image was frozen. But then, suddenly, I can hear a low sound in the recording. And that sounds starts creeping higher and higher, as if something was charging up… Yeah, definitively charging up, since I almost saw some lightning sparks going off from the chair…

I don’t know what’s happening, but it seems to be malfunctioning. The sparks make themselves more and more intense, and it almost seems as if the machine is ready to explode...

Just as I say that, the first deep voice makes itself heard once again, but this time more in a frustrated or worried tone than an official one.

“Sel heont havy… Go huop sel hstill pÿrdont...”

But suddenly, the sparks stop, and while the sound doesn’t stop, beige liquid start flowing into the pipes… from the man to the tank ? What is that thing ? I don’t understand ! However, I can hear cries of rejoice in the audience, with all three voices I’ve heard since then saying incomprehensible stuff that I wouldn’t even be able to transcribe. I guess they also didn’t think… whatever this is would work ?

I take a drink from my water bottle as I keep an eye on the video. However, since I need to reach my bag, I cannot actively monitor it. Besides, according to what I hear, nothing of note seems to be happening... But when I have put down the bottle, I stop the video. I rub my eyes, but even then, I still see it.

The man seems smaller.

Somehow.

I go back in the video to the time where the man with the deepest voice sounded worried and… Yeah, looking like that, it’s even more apparent. The man has been losing mass. And the tanks have been filled by this beige skin-color liquid… Heh, if I didn’t know I was in reality, I would have said that this is muscle-juice, but this is ridiculous…

Especially since the body mass hasn’t been the only thing to change.

As I play back the video and continue through the long haul of high-pitch noise and not much else, I notice that the man’s stubble seems to be disappearing… and his head hair growing as well, somehow ? It almost seems as if he’s becoming less masculine by the second, if it even makes any sense, even though nothing about this video actually makesanysense. If I didn’t know who supplied it to me, I would have said this was a fake…

As his pecs were shrinking, his arms were thinning, his waist narrowing and his legs slimming, his stance almost seemed to be relaxing further – if it’s even possible. I mean, I don’t know ! It’s just the impression that I’m getting ! As the last of his stubble vanishes, at least according to what I can see through the pixels, he almost seems to be getting cuter ? Whence more relaxed ? Fuck, this makes absolutely no sense whatsoever…

Oh. I know why I get this impression. It’s not anymore weird or nonsensical, but at least in this context it seems to make sense… I think he also is losing height. Yes, actually. Height. It’s almost as if someone took the textbook definition of a “twink” and decided to impart its characteristic on this poor fellow – don’t ask me why I know what it is.

As I continue watching in horror, the woman’s voice says, gleefully :

“Entzony as hen !”

How can they sound so… happy ? Happy to torture a man like this ? To, quite visibly, drain his muscles into those tanks that look more and more full ? It just goes beyond me ! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen my fair share of horrible and unethical treatments, and a ton of unethical human experiments. But this by far takes the cake of the most disturbing thing I have ever seen ! They’re taking away what he is, his identity ! Him ! That’s the most cruel violation of human rights I have ever seen ! To gleefully disfigure someone like that…

The tanks have finished filling up, and the sound starts lowering in intensity. The man left looks only like a shadow of who he was. He still looks like himself, except devoid of any… meat, may I say ? When the machine was well and truly turned off, the deep voice rejoiced, seemingly announcing the success of that terrible plot.

“Fÿstyfuroll ! Oll fod havy kotzvong !”

Funnily enough, the first word made me think of “feast for all”, which just feels wrong given the context. On that, they all seem to have left the premises, as a nurse came in and untethered the poor man from all the equipment, and taking with her the tanks filled of muscle juice.

I continued watching, hoping that I would get to see the young man wake up.

And wake up he did, looking around, before standing up… and immediately falling. Presumably due to him not expecting to be this skinny. He then looked at himself, and had an utterly horrified look in his eyes, as if he was processing the fact that he was irremediably different.

He crawled towards the wall, and using that, he climbed back to standing, managing to take a position so that he could be looking at the camera.

And on that, the video suddenly stopped, leaving me on this freeze frame :

I absolutely don’t know what to do with that. Now I not only understand, but also feel how confused the secret services were by intercepting this message. It just seems wrong in so many ways, so much that… it might not even have occurred on Earth for all I know ! The language is unknown, but familiar. The way to count time is disturbing, but otherwise identical to ours. The events depicted are of typical mad experimentation, but in a manner that is unthinkable in my knowledge of the world.

I don’t have the strength to view any of the other videos, since they’re likely all the same amount of disturbing. So I close the laptop, and already starts asking myself the question I need to give an answer for my superiors :

Just what the hell are the Beatty files ?!

#male transformation #male tf #jock to twink #twink tf #twinkification #muscle loss #muscle drain #transformation #tf story

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mysticfalls01 · 2 years ago

Text

Home

(Ona Batlle x reader)

Growing up in Manchester you couldn’t help but to love football. Football was everywhere in the city.

As much as you loved football you couldn’t see yourself playing the sport however, coming from parents who were doctors you knew how you could be part of that world.

In 2017 you decided to go the States to study physiotherapy with a speciality in sports medicine. You studied in UNC where you worked with the North Carolina Tar Heels.

There you met two British girls who coincidentally also were there, Alessia Russo and Lotte Wubben-Moy. Having other British girls helped you to miss Manchester so much less and you formed an amazing friendship with them.

You made the most of your time there learning new techniques, you used the most updated medical equipment, you worked with many athletes, so you had seen any type of injuries, and you gained experience as a field medic.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In 2020 Alessia, Lotte and you decided to go back to England due to the uncertainty of covid. Lotte signed with Arsenal while Less signed with Manchester United.

Due to Lessi’s recommendation and your great experience working with female athletes Manchester United offered you a job in their medical squad.

When you arrived to the club you made sure to have a one on one meeting with every girl in the team and that’s how you met United’s new incorporation, Ona Batlle.

At the beginning it was quite difficult to understand her because of her accent and her basic English however, the connection with Ona was there.

You found it cute how she tried to explain to you what she was feeling, what part of her body had she injured and how suddenly each time you entered a room she suddenly got red cheeks.

After being in the club for three months Ona asked you out, your relationship was based in love, commitment, communication and comprehension. You guys had similar schedules as you were working for the same club, you understood when she had to back to Spain for national duties and she understood when you had to stay extra time with a patient.

Eventually you started taking Spanish classes, so you could talk with her and her family and it was worth it as her family came to see her for her second derby.

“Mama te quiero presentar a y/n. Ella es la fisioterapeuta en jefe para el club y también es mi novia” Ona couldn’t help to tell her mother with a smile on her face. (Mom! I wanted to present you to y/n. She works the club’s head physiotherapist and she’s also my girlfriend)

“Mucho gusto señora Batlle, soy y/n! Es un placer conocerla” (A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Batlle, I’m y/n!)

Ona didnt know that you had started taking Spanish classes

“Mi amor! No sabía que hablabas español” (My love! I didn’t knew that you spoke Spanish)

“Empecé a aprender por ti y por tú familia mi vida” (I started to learn it because of you and your family my life)

Ona’s mother couldn’t help but watch the interaction and she saw the heart eyes that her daughter was giving you. Since that moment she knew that you were the one for her daughter.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After almost three years of dating you knew that Ona was about to take one of the biggest decisions of her career, renewing with MU or going back to Barcelona.

You always knew what option was she going to choose, so ever since your last trip to Spain to visit her family you started to prepare everything. With the help of her family whom distracted her for a day and with the help of your fellow British friends Lucy and Keira you landed an interview with FC Barcelona.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

May 2023

Ona was nervous she didn’t knew how to tell that she was accepting Barca’s offer. She prepared dinner in your now shared apartment.

When you came back after finishing your job at MU you were surprised to see the table arranged and to see Ona taking the food to the table.

“Mi amor! I’m glad that you are here! Come and sit down”

You sat down and started eating dinner with your girlfriend. After an hour or so Ona got nervous.

“Mi amor, there’s something that I need to tell you”

“What is it baby?” You looked at her with curiosity

“As you know my contract with United will be over after this season and Barca made an offer. I want to accept it”

“Well my love I also have something. Do you remember the day when your mother wanted to spend a day just with you?”

“Yeah, I remember” she said with an uncertain voice

“That day Lucy picked me up and took me to La Ciutat Esportiva. I always knew where your heart was my love. I had an interview with the head of the medical team. For the interview I had to do Frido’s physiotherapy session and I did Jana’s tape. The girls and I clicked immediately, better than I did with United’s girls and latter I learned they had given a positive feedback to Barca. Last week Barca reached out to me ”

Ona couldn’t be believe what she was hearing.

“So what I’m trying to say my love is that I have an offer from them. I told them that if it was possible for me to finish May with United I would sign with them the same day as you did and they accepted. That’s how sure I was of your answer also, Lessi is moving to London so there’s nothing else that ties me to United”

You took her hands and spoke again. “I know that I grew here in Manchester and I considered it my home. That was until I met you that I realized that home isn’t a place, it is a person”

Ona was fully crying, you knew her so well that you prepared everything to move to Barcelona even before she said yes to the club. Ona knew that this was the moment. She took out the velvet box that was in her pocket and kneeled in one knee.

You realized what was happening, tears started to come out and your hands covered your mouth.

“Mi amor, I had something else prepared but this moment feels right, this feels like us. We’ve been dating for almost three years, you learned Spanish to talk to my family and my family loves you. You became my rock when I moved to England and you are ready to move from club and country because of me. I love you with all my heart, I didn’t believed in soulmates until I met you. I know that many persons will think that we are too young but I don’t care. So y/n l/n will you make me the happiest girl on earth and will you marry me?”

“Yes! Ona I’ll marry you!!”

You didn't knew where life was going to take you and you didn't cared as long as you were with Ona you would always be at home.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader

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sweetbillwriting · 1 month ago

Text

Only The Road Ahead

Chapter 6

Description: With many obstacles against him, Eddie Barrish has found himself fighting hard to get his life together and be a good father, but bad decisions and lies will always come for you, even if you look forward.

Character: AU Eddie Barrish, played by Bill Skarsgård in the movie Locked (2025). His daughter, Sarah, also has a part in the story.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Sometimes Eddie had a bad feeling in his body after having a one-night stand. It wasn't really anxiety, but something was creeping around inside him and made him regret what he had done. He didn't know why he would regret just humping between a woman's thighs a bit, but he did. Even if he knew the condom had been on and he had been cleared with her, it was just a one-night thing. Something was eating on his insides.

The woman explained how she had tracked him down and found his number then she gave him the address to her home. Even if she had stalked him he decided to visit and he had realized at once it was the nicer area a bit outside of town. It was where the rich people lived and hid from seeing the poor and helpless on the street corner by SevenEleven. She lived in one of the bigger houses with a big well trimmed lawn and an illuminated pool. It looked similar to Luna's house, only bigger with four cars on the driveway. He didn't want to think about it, but by seeing a family van and a Porsche, and also a forgotten red children's bike lying on the lawn, he had a feeling this wasn't at all a single woman but a family woman. Neither she nor he mentioned it even if it was obvious he was right. There were family portraits on the walls, children's outerwear by the door, and after she had led him to her marital bed he saw her wedding ring lying on a jewelry plate on a vanity table. Right then and there he didn't care because he was prepared to get laid. It wasn't romantic, not even erotic, but she got to sleep with a porn actor, and he got to feel someone hug his cock for a while. He couldn't even say he was that attracted to her and images of Luna, but also imaginary ones of Hani, flew through his head.

Still, Eddie couldn't connect the feeling to something, and he let it nag, even when Luna talked in his ear with her lightly raspy voice.

“A party for OF people? Ehm…” He laughed a bit sarcastically and scratched his forehead. Even if he was on OnlyFans, he had never seen himself as a part of the community.

“Yeah, it's nice to meet people with similar experiences. I mean, your friends, do they understand your job?”

Eddie exhaled deeply because they didn't but most often he felt like he himself didn't understand it either.

“Please? I want to show you off.” She giggled a little, and it made him laugh softly.

“Yeah, yeah but I will get drunk!”

“Please, I will too!”

They laughed together, and for a moment, Eddie's head was empty from the creeping feeling, but as soon as they had hung up it came back in full swing and wouldn't disappear completely until he was at Luna's and had emptied his seed in her.

×××

It was a hot day, so Eddie wandered around in Luna's house with just a pair of red basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. She had just a baby blue bikini on. Both of them were ready for a dip in the pool whenever they felt like it. Even if the standards in her house were much higher than he was used to, he quickly became comfortable and grabbed a beer from the fridge like he had bought them himself. When he had closed the door, a neon yellow post-it on the fridge caught his attention, and he looked at Luna worried, where she stood by the kitchen counter chopping a mango.

“What is the test? Is everything okay with you?” He asked with furrowed brows. Luna looked at him confused until he pointed at the post-it. Luna laughed a little.

“No, silly, it's the STD test.”

Eddie pulled in his shorts over and over until he found his words.

“What's your symptoms?”

Now it was Luna's turn to watch him in silence until her confusion had calmed down.

“I don't have any symptoms. I do tests after every new sex partner I have?”

“Oh… So you've slept with someone else than me?”

“No, I just haven't had time to do a test but I also thought you, in the same business, were also checking yourself, so I wasn't worried. Don't you test yourself?”

Eddie licked his lips nervously. Why hadn't he tested himself? It was just logical to do that, whether he used condoms or not.

“Of course, I just haven't had time to do it, just like you.”

Luna nodded a little, swallowing his lie just as easily as everyone else did.

“Have you slept with anyone other than me during the time we have known each other?”

Eddie moved closer to her, and to soothe the lies, he bent down to kiss her.

“No, no one else.”

Luna gave him a small smile and dragged her fingers over his abs.

“Good, it's important to be safe in our business.”

Eddie nodded with a smile, like it was as obvious for him.

×××

What if he had a disease? Something serious he had given to Luna? She checked herself all the time so he couldn't blame the guy before him. That family woman he had slept with—he didn't know if she slept around with others and had millions of diseases. Just because you're rich doesn't mean you're safe from STDs. What if he had HIV and had given that to Luna? After doing everything right, she would have made one mistake—trusting him.

What if he had gotten something from Nathalie or another one-night stand and had given the rich woman a disease? Maybe she would write that on his channel? Or even Luna's? They should be a happy couple for their viewers, and then she would write he fucked around and, on top of that, had an STD? He felt the panic grow, even if Luna took a topless dip in front of him and he could feel himself grow in the shorts. She was so beautiful and sexy but also the one who increased his salary to almost the ten times as much in just months and he would fuck that up by just being an ignorant idiot.

“Can't you join me?” Luna asked, biting her lip while leaning on the edge of the pool. Eddie had sat down on the edge of a sun lounger but stood up and let his shorts fall. It was a silent invitation for her to do something about it.

“Do you want help with that?”

“I would never say no to that.”

Luna dragged her hands over her head, slicking back her hair.

“Do you want me to suck it?”

Eddie could feel himself get harder by the question.

“I want you to suck it.”

She made a motion towards the edge of the pool while Eddie took his phone. He had always liked a good blow job video from the guy's point of view. Seeing Luna like that couldn't be anything else than a hit.

He started to film already before he had sat down which made Luna giggle and she started to show off a bit in the pool. He liked that view, and when he had sat down on the edge with his feet in the water, he filmed his erect member. He filmed it closely because he was quite proud of his size. He didn't think about what Luna did behind his cock until she had laid her hands on his knees and spread his legs so she could come closer. He looked big just by having her face in close proximity to his cock and even bigger when she took a grip around the base with an elegant movement. Luna looked at every vein closely before kissing his tip with an open mouth. It twitched as a hello, and Luna giggled like it was cute. Eddie shifted between looking at her and looking at his phone, seeing the same girl there.

“I like this view,” he said, pleased just before making a humming sound. Luna dragged her hand up and down his shaft but also dragged her thumb over his tip up and down, which made precum leak out in dribbles.

“How much can you take in your mouth, baby? Do you dare to choke on it real good?”

He could see how she collected spit in her mouth, so when she opened up wide and stuck out her tongue, she was wet and ready for his length. He hummed, pleased again, before taking a grip around her wet neck and pushing her down. He noticed it was a bit of a struggle, but it seemed to be easier for her to swallow his full length than ride it. He could see how the tip of her nose touched his trimmed pubic bone and felt how the muscles in her throat worked around him. He was impressed by how long she could handle having him like that before she needed to let him go and breathe. Tears started running down her cheek, and the saliva and his fluid left both her lips and chin wet. He liked the view so much, and even if he didn't look at his phone, he knew it was beautiful. He pushed her neck a little to make her continue.

“Show me how greedy you are, dirty girl. Show me how much you love my cock.”

Luna bobbed her head up and down. She shifted between a slower pace and a faster pace and played with his balls in her palm at the same time. Her face stayed smeared with all the different body fluids, and she breathed like she had run a marathon. Eddie smirked at her and forced her down lower when she didn't take him fully. It was mean, but he knew it was okay for her. When he felt how her throat worked fast around his tip, his orgasm was close. He laid his hand over her throat and pushed it lightly. He knew she would be in distress, but feeling how she choked around him so hard was what he needed to come. She pulled him out when his cum made her cough, and it landed over her face instead. She breathed heavily while looking at Eddie's pleased face. She would never let another guy treat her like that, but something made her trust him so much more than other guys, and she loved seeing him pleased way too much.

He really was pleased, he had come so hard his toes were tingling, and as a thank you, he leaned down and kissed her. He kissed her with heated passion while dragging his tongue over his own cum. He cleaned her up, licking and kissing her lips and cheeks. He filmed it all and it became so heated he moved closer to the water. He disappeared into the kisses, and when he once again got hard, his fingers softened around the phone.

Plopp!

×××

“Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!”

Luna pulled herself up from the pool and looked a bit worried at Eddie, who wandered around naked by the edge of the pool. He dripped with water after having jumped down into the pool to get his phone from the bottom. Luna put on her bikini top and thought about trying to calm him down, but it didn't feel like a good idea because he continued to just scream.

Anger is a gift.

She read on his back. That ugly, silly tattoo but it maybe had more meaning than she thought. She had never seen him like that and if she was really honest she could feel her pulse going up and her fingers had started to shake.

“Fucking hell!!” He screamed while trying to start the phone again. “Fuck!! I can just..!” He threw it up in the air but caught it in his hand, and then he was prepared to throw it in the stone wall that separated Luna's yard from the neighbors.

“Hey, hey!” Luna took hold of his arm even if she actually was afraid. Eddie turned and gave her an angry look. He wasn't angry at her, not at all, but he was angry at the situation. He hadn't backed up pictures and didn't even know where all the phone numbers were saved. Luna released his arm as soon as she met his angry eyes but took a deep breath.

“We can put it in rice. And try the hair dryer, okay?”

Eddie looked at her, and she could see how his expression changed to a calmer one. Carefully he gave her his phone, like a kid who wanted Mommy to fix his toy. Luna took a deep breath, then she hurried into the kitchen. She really wanted to calm him down, but it was also a relief to leave the 6’4, angry, naked man behind.

Eddie took some deep breaths while dragging his hands through his hair. When his heart had slowed down he pulled on his shorts that laid on the ground. He actually hated how he had that side in him. His back tattoo was old, created in his early 20s when anger felt cool and he could scare away people with just a bang in the wall with his fist. He had seen Luna’s scared face, but in his angry bubble, he couldn't do anything. It didn't happen often that he got angry like that, but of course it would happen in front of a woman, a woman who hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't like he didn't know he was scary when he was angry, and of course, especially for a woman. He was so much bigger than her, much stronger, and they didn't know each other so well yet.

He took some more time to just sit alone by the pool and calm down. It would be sad if he lost everything on the phone but it was still just material things. He would be okay. He took a final deep breath before going to find Luna. She stood by the counter with a big bowl in front of her. It was full of rice, and his phone must have been in there too. He could feel that she stiffened when he hugged her from behind, but she still took his hands so he stayed in that position. He was leaning down so his lips could press against her ear.

“I'm so sorry, Luna… I'm so sorry… I really wish I could take it back,” said he with a low voice. She nodded a little and leaned back on him.

“It's okay…”

“No, it's not. I…” He wanted to promise her it would never happen again, but he couldn't he didn't know if he would get triggered by something again. Luna turned around; maybe she understood what he wanted to say and accepted he couldn't. She smiled a little and stood up on her toes so she could kiss his cheek.

“You know, I have a background too, so I can't really handle anger, so if it happens again, I will just go away. I'm sorry, but I can't be the one calming you down and… Yeah, you know.”

She looked down at the floor, but Eddie lifted her chin up.

“That's okay. That's not your responsibility. Okay?”

Luna nodded so Eddie took his chance to kiss her, to make up but also to stop the conversation from stretching longer. He wasn't ready to hear her story. He wasn't ready for them to be that close. What they had right now was perfect for him. They kissed again, Eddie slipping his tongue to do it a bit more lustfully so she wouldn't get a boyfriend vibe from him.

×××

Eddie held his phone in his hand, seeing the screen light up. He held his breath while it loaded and slowly a smile formed on his lips. He laughed a little and looked up at Luna who stood just next to him.

“Did it actually work? What the fuck, I never thought it would work. Fuck.” Luna giggled a little while he looked through his messages and phone calls, then the gallery.

“Even the video is here! I didn't think I saved it!” He laughed and started it, seeing Luna play around in the water on the screen.

“That's good; we can post it tonight.” Luna smirked a little and walked away to the fridge. Her thought was to open it and start dinner, pesto pasta with chicken, but instead she stared at the yellow post-it.

“Should I try to make an appointment for you too? So we both can feel clean,” she joked. Eddie, who had started to think about filth again because he looked at the video on his phone, felt his horny mood go down by thinking again about him possibly having a disease.

“You get the results the next day.”

Eddie stared at her in silence but nodded. It was better to get it over with. If he had something, he would need to tell her anyway. Luna smiled, then kissed his naked back before taking out the dinner from the fridge.

×××

Luna was so sure that he didn't have any diseases that she crawled close to him in bed also that night. She kissed his neck and dragged her hand and nails over the bulge in his boxers over and over. Of course he could feel himself grow by excitement, but it didn't feel right. He had gotten scheduled for a test an hour after hers the next day; maybe he could just keep her away for two days until he had the answer?

“I'm so fucking tired…” he said, sounding like an old married woman. He cringed at his own words because it was never a thing he would say normally.

“Oh?” Luna moved away from him but let her hand lay on the side of his neck while looking at him with sapphire blue eyes. “Is it something?”

“No, no. Just tired, many emotions today,” he joked. Luna giggled because every lie he said felt like the truth.

“Do you want to cuddle a little instead?”

Cuddling was definitely a boyfriend thing.

“I think it's better if I just try to sleep.”

Luna patted his cheek lightly and gave him a soft smile before laying her head on his chest, right under his chin. Eddie looked up at the ceiling. Maybe he should have taken the guest room because this also felt like cuddling, but it was also so nice. He dragged his hand over the silky top she wore, he touched the soft skin of her thigh and hip. He smelled her hair and pushed his own neck closer to her lips. He could feel Luna smirk, probably because his words had been so meaningless. He scratched his eyebrow, trying to calm himself down so he could just sleep, but just seconds later his hand palmed her breast and squeezed it.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” she asked teasingly. Eddie nodded, like it was what he was trying to do. Luna shook her head a bit and turned around, giving him some space so he could sleep, but instead he just crawled after her, pushing himself against her. He felt desperate for both closeness and sex but felt then he could take whatever, as long as he got to be close to her. Luna, amused by how desperate he seemed, just laid with her back to him, waiting for him to take back his words.

“Baby…” said he with a deep, raspy voice that breathed of sex and hunger.

“Mm?” Luna just said, closing her eyes and pretending to be close to sleep when she felt he peered down on her. Eddie breathed heavily and supported himself on an elbow. He wanted her so bad, but…

“Luna. I wasn't honest with you.”

She opened her eyes at once and looked at him confused. Eddie sat up, regret and shame obvious in his facial expression. Luna sat up and looked at him worriedly, she couldn't understand what he might have lied about. She understood it must be something serious because of his expression; still, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about how cute he was with his big sad eyes and boyish mannerisms. He was absolutely a man, but a little boy would always exist in his face.

“I've never tested myself for an STD. Never. I… This whole “casual hookups” thing is actually quite new to me. Not that that it’s an excuse for not thinking about safety, I just…” Eddie dragged his hands through his hair over and over but also down over his face and neck. He was really ashamed, and feeling Luna's bright blue eyes on him didn't make him feel any better.

“You mean because of your daughter’s mom? That you have mostly been with her?” Luna asked without putting any judgment in it. Eddie took a deep breath.

“We met when I was 20. Before that I was an awkward dude. I didn't look like how I look now if you get me. Girls weren't that impressed… Then I met Amy, and we were a couple for eight years.”

“That's a long time.”

“It is. I was almost thirty when we broke up and during those years… I have changed.”

Luna couldn't stop herself from smiling, even if he was so serious, but it was so obvious what he meant, and it was funny how he said it himself.

“You had started working out? I can't believe you mean anything else, you're far too pretty to have made some big transformation.”

Now he smiled because it wasn't like he didn't like hearing how good he looked.

“I was super skinny. Tall and gangly. Then I got help from some sort of organization to fix my teeth. I had a gap but also crooked in the jaw, so I had pain but also looked weird.” Eddie laughed a little. “I probably looked all fucked up. The stereotypical white trash kid.”

Luna crawled closer to him and when he looked at her she patted his cheek softly. She nodded a little with a smile.

“We will check you up tomorrow, okay? It's probably nothing, even if you have slept with hundreds of girls in three years—”

“It's not that many.” Eddie smirked while Luna's hand still lay on his cheek.

“50?”

Eddie looked embarrassed. “Maybe something like that… I dunno, but maybe.”

“You're such a slut!” Luna said with a fake shock. Eddie shook his head with a smirk. He knew he kind of was, but realizing girls actually liked his big “scary” eyes and full lips that he got a bit bullied for in school was a happy surprise, and it felt like he needed to embrace it before it would be taken away from him.

He looked at her with his big, soulful eyes. Luna couldn't see them as scary at all, just wonderfully big and beautiful.

“I can be your slut now?” he asked, with a way too sweet voice for the things he said, and he made Luna giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Let me eat your little tight pussy as an evening snack.” Luna smiled amused but still leaned back against the headboard and taking the cover away from her legs. Eddie gave her a devious look, then he crawled up to her so he could kiss her lips. While kissing her sweetly, he started to pull down her white lace thong. She helped him a little bit but never stopped kissing with just the tip of their tongues touching each other sometimes. It wasn't at all like the way he had kissed her earlier that day. This was romantic. They took a break to just look into each other's eyes, then Eddie pulled off her panties fully. Luna didn't notice, because she just looked at Eddie's bleached blonde hair between her legs, that instead of him tossing away her panties, he twisted them around his wrist. She didn't even notice when he dragged his big tattooed hands over her thighs and pushed them apart even more. She just saw how he licked his full lips with a pink tongue and then let saliva drip down from his lower lip to her slit. Everything he did with that mouth was sexy, and he seemed to know it because when he finally lowered his face, he did a show of dragging his lips over her like they worshipped those pairs of lips. Luna just wanted more than that and felt the excitement pop when he started to lick her insides. He wasn't shy, and while licking between her folds, he took a grip of the ditch of her knees and pulled her closer to him easily. He kept her in that position while he stood on his knees, so he could lift her lower back away from the mattress. Luna felt light as a feather when he did such things but still had a problem thinking about anything else other than his tongue that now started to play with her clit at a fast speed. He was insane with that tongue, and when he moved his head back and worked it from side to side in the air, she could really see how fast it actually was. He really was porn on two long legs. He didn't put her down on the mattress until he dived in completely with his jaw working to make her clit almost vibrate. Her orgasm was inevitable; still, he pushed a finger in her when her entrance pulsed the most. At first it felt like too much but then it just made her orgasm more intense. She would be embarrassed if she had known what pathetic sounds she made, but she couldn't even hear herself. He worked her through the orgasm, and then she looked up at him, exhausted but pleased. He moved away from between her legs with a smirk but also a raging hard-on that he would never be able to hide.

“Give it to me,” Luna whined and made Eddie look at her surprised. “Give me your cock.”

He wouldn't say no to that, so while still standing so close to her legs, he flipped her over so she stood on all fours. He forced her to stand on her knees even if her legs were so weak but it was also what made it erotic. He had the power and pushed in harshly at the same time he gave her a spank that almost made her fall forward. It hurt, but it hurt so good.

×××

Eddie didn't feel comfortable in the hospital environment. He didn't like blood tests and intrusive questions, but the worst was when the fifty-year-old doctor wanted him to pull down his pants so that the doctor could pull back his foreskin to drag the bulb of a cotton swab over his tip. Because of his discomfort, he joked; that it should be a pretty girl doing it, even saying he had a hot girl out in the waiting room who could do it instead, but the doctor didn't even lift the corner of his mouth. He had probably heard it all before.

Eddie almost felt assaulted when he came out to the waiting room where Luna waited for him in a black maxi skirt and black tube top. It should have been her that touched his cock. He needed a shower.

“You okay?” She asked, walking up to him. His face showed discomfort and almost horror.

“He touched my cock!”

Luna couldn't stop herself from smirking but dragged her hands over his chest, comforting, dressed in a red t-shirt.

“But he may have looked impressed at least?”

Eddie looked down at her, first with something that looked like offense, but then he tried to hide a smile.

“Everyone is impressed when they see my cock. You know that.”

Luna laughed a little but nodded. Eddie scratched his eye a little embarrassed but then gave her a light peck.

“Let's go home and shower. Old man hands on my cock!” he said, grossed out again.

×××

After a shower they ate, but then it was time to get ready for the party. The OnlyFans party. Eddie didn't look forward to it really but listened to Luna; maybe it could be an experience.

He was proud to have her on his arm while they walked into the big mansion. Eddie had never even seen a house like that for real and felt almost disgusted by how much money the person owning the house must have. He let Luna, in her black dress with printed small cherries, introduce him to people. He didn't really put any name to memory because he just reacted to how Luna introduced him.

“Eddie, my boyfriend.”

He knew they pretended that he was her boyfriend; still, it itched in him when he heard it out loud. He wasn't anyone's boyfriend. He was a free man. That environment was also not the environment where he couldn't look around a bit. Some girls were really hot and sexy. While Luna talked with two girls in too much make-up, he went to the bar to order something for them. He couldn't stop himself from looking at the girls he went by, he couldn't even keep himself from smiling flirtatiously at some. He could see on their faces he was the exciting new face for the night. Two girls even looked like they would come up to him while he waited for his beer and Luna’s strawberry spritz, but just then came Luna walking with her long, black hair blowing in the nonexisting wind and her boobs bouncing between the straps of her spaghetti dress. Eddie gave the two girls a look but also there were guys looking at Luna. Everyone seemed horny or desperate for attention.

“Thank you, baby,” Luna said to him with a sweet smile and took her drink. Eddie just smiled a little. It was probably the first time he bought a drink for a girl without counting his money in his head.

“I want to introduce you to some friends.”

He took a sip of his beer and nodded a little.

“Have you filmed with them?”

“Just Lydia. And the other three I've filmed with, I hope I never see again.” She said it as a joke, but Eddie could hear the hurt in her voice. He didn't say anything about that, and when they had taken one more sip of their respective drinks, Luna took his hand and went to her friends.

Boyfriend. She introduced him as her boyfriend again. He bit his tongue but let it be. What had he thought? That he could leave her there and find another girl to walk home with?

They talked with her friends for a while, but Eddie wasn't really interested and shut down. Just because they worked with the same industry, they didn't automatically have things in common, and even if he had money now, he felt like the poor kid, invited as entertainment. Instead, he looked at the two men by the table. They looked at Luna the same way he probably did.

“I'll go and order another drink for us…” He whispered to Luna, who smiled at him and nodded.

He would have had a better night with his friends, but he would probably not have seen as many hot girls. Not everyone was his type, but he could still see that they were attractive. The men weren't as attractive. Some were even ugly, but there were probably men out there that would rather look at ugly men fucking beautiful girls than men they could just wish they looked like. There were also boys and girls that looked way too young to do porn, and he felt a strong feeling of distaste thinking about the men that probably wanted to see that. They must have been 18, but he still felt bad for them. They were way too young.

“Eddie, right?” Said a man by the bar. He was probably around 40 and had such big, strong arms they had the same measurement as Luna's thigh. It wasn't a wild guess because he had seen them together. It was the guy from her earlier videos. Eddie had seen them fuck many times.

“Yeah, Raphael?” he replied back, without changing his stone face.

Raphael stretched out his hand to him, and they shook each other's hand with a firm handshake as if they really wanted to arm wrestle on the bar counter. Raphael smirked and gestured with a hand for Eddie to take a seat next to him. Eddie hesitated but obliged because he was curious what the buff guy wanted.

He ordered a beer and a glass of whiskey when the bartender saw him, and Raphael waited until he had his drinks in front of him before he talked.

“So Luna?” Raphael began, and when Eddie looked at him, he smirked, placing an elbow on the counter. Eddie waited for him to say something more and after a few seconds Raphael took the hint.

“Are you a couple or is it just to sell more?”

Eddie looked at his whiskey glass and then took a sip. His behavior said it all, and Raphael laughed a little.

“Yeah, that's smart… I guess you're cute together too.”

Eddie had never gotten the vibe that Luna had a thing with Raphael, not even pretending for the camera like they did, but became insecure now when he sat next to the man.

“Did you do the same thing?”

Raphael shook his head.

“She was more slutty with me. You know, more BDSM. People really liked seeing her like that. Degraded, you know.”

Eddie looked away because even if this was their work, he didn't feel comfortable talking about Luna like that. She was his friend. He did have another feeling though, that Raphael wanted to say his and Luna's videos were boring. That he did it better.

“But you know, girls being slutty will also get a lot of hate, and yeah… I guess she’s trying to clean her image with you? Go back to that fantasy girlfriend image she had at the beginning.”

Eddie didn't say anything because it felt like he didn't need to do that, Raphael continued to talk even if he didn't get any answers.

“You know, she did like private shows and so on before I found her. Those tits, you know? But I made her rich, and I guess she makes you rich now.”

Eddie continued to be silent and just continued to drink.

“I produce. I have contact with sponsors and have a guy who knows how to use the algorithms on the side to my advantage.” Eddie looked up at him now because he could feel he was trying to say something to him now.

“I like yours and Luna's videos, but with other girls, you could be a star. I could help you? Make you richer than everyone here.”

Eddie looked at him with big eyes and dragged his hands over his thighs.

“I'm even so sure you could get both of us so much money you can get my Ferrari I have in the garage.”

Eddie laughed a little, then looked at Raphael with a smile, who smiled back. Eddie could feel his heart beating hard. He could be rich. Seriously rich. He didn't know if he could trust Raphael, but it felt like he needed to take this risk. A Ferrari? Hell yeah!

He felt a hand with long nails against his neck and how a well-shaped body pressed against him. Luna's long hair tickled his arm, and he dragged his hand over the silky fabric of her dress. He looked at her with a big smile. Excited by the thought of a Ferrari. She kissed him and he kissed back because that was what they did. They always kissed. She smiled a little, then turned towards Raphael.

“Hey, I see you've met my boyfriend—Eddie.” She sounded cold, but Eddie cringed because she said that just when he had confessed all of it was a lie. Raphael smiled, but it wasn't a kind one.

“Yes. Your boyfriend. You're sweet together. The perfect couple.”

@kikibit @malenoradgn

@a-differentbrandof-beans @forrealandjustsaying @useyourwandbro @turbotasticoo @keysandthesea-blog @muchwita @hanamirandak @hamburger-sprite

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #locked #eddie #eddie barrish

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yannisdesk · 6 months ago

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Why the Lack of a Verbal Apology May Make Sense from Caitlyn's Perspective

I do not approve of the writing decision of having Caitlyn not verbally apologize to Vi for hitting her, but I thought I'd look into why Caitlyn, as a character, wouldn't think it's completely necessary.

I am fully aware that I am a stone-throw away from getting "obsessed with Caitlyn" accusations and to that I say - she's an interesting character. Analyzing her tickles the brain.

This will not be a super technical post btw. More vibes + thoughts and observations, not a formal essay on the topic.

So, Caitlyn is a Kiramman, and this is an upper class family with a lot of prestige riding on its back. They're also a fairly stoic family, in that they do not wear their hearts on their sleaves. They've bought into "keeping up appearances" - hence why Cassandra and Tobias were not too happy with Caitlyn becoming an enforcer; it's a stereotypically "blue collar" job even if it is considered essential to "maintaining order" in Piltover (debatable). It's not at all unrealistic, imagine any rich and influential family that occupies the upper echelon of society - would they be psyched about their kid, and sole heir, becoming a beat cop? Probably not. While the Kiramman legacy includes being a financial provider for the enforcer department and altruistic pursuits, like creating the air ventilation system in Zaun, they're still prone to high levels of classism. Just look at how quickly they cut off communication with Jayce once, as Caitlyn puts it, his "name's no good now." The Kiramman family are long-time members of the Piltover Council and have immense political power, so they are not a cog in the machine, they share ownership of the machine with six other families.

Despite this, the Kirammans do love each other and will do things out of love. For example, Cassandra does stick up for Jayce initially during the council meeting and tries to vouch for his character. She also does not tell Caitlyn "I'm sorry. You're right, the council has been slacking when it comes to the Undercity. I'll schedule a meeting with them on what we can do." She just says "I'll schedule an audience. You and your crush friend can address the council yourselves. I suggest you prepare accordingly." She nods at Caitlyn to go after Vi after the council meetings fails, letting her know she approves of what they have going on (Mama Kiramman definitely knew her daughter had a thing for Vi). She also, after initially disagreeing, votes to give Zaun freedom, no doubt thinking about her daughter and what she'd tried to achieve a few days ago. That's just the type of family they are.

And Cassandra does this without really verbalizing it. She let's the action talk for her. Tobias seems to be the more physically affectionate parent. Caitlyn is an (un)happy-medium, in the first season she's more physical like Tobias, in the second she's more distant like Cassandra, which checks out as she's in mourning, so she could've ended up becoming even more clingy to those around her or what we get in the opposite: detachment.

But Caitlyn does embody some of her other in season 1, the build-up of her trading something she's associated closely with for Vi is present. In season 1 her gun is exchanged for Vi's medicine which saves her life.

So, what we can get from this is that the Kirammans are action-oriented. Tobias is action-oriented in physical affection, such as hugging his daughter and fixing her leg. Cassandra will perform duties that don't require physical affection, but will still show her remorse, love, and care regardless.

So, given that's the standard she's working with, it makes sense that Caitlyn wouldn't verbally apologize and instead just do something that she knows would mean a lot to Vi. It's what her mother would've done. It's how she's been conditioned to think about apologies: you atone through action. Caitlyn wouldn't automatically think that something as serious as this would require something verbal because simply put - she's probably never had to confront something this serious, and it's also not how she was raised.

And that's not even a false notion, it's just incomplete with the way it's interpreted, which is rooted in quite a bit of pride, because if you're "strictly action oriented" then you never have to actually admit you were ever in the wrong, you can just jump to doing something that will hopefully land you in the clear, and similar to how just saying "I'm sorry" simply won't cut it, in serious situations this won't either; there needs to be a balance and words and actions need to match, especially when it comes to an act of domestic violence.

As the age-old-saying goes: the hardest part is admitting you're in the wrong, but it's also very important. So, while I do think that Caitlyn freeing Jinx is definitely in-step with who she was already established as a character, an undoubtedly great gesture, and decision; I also think it would be interesting to see part of her development acknowledge that it's okay to both talk about it and be about it even when it's hard, and given that she gave Ekko good advice in season 1 and then went completely against it in season 2, it would certainly be appropriate.

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #violyn #caitvi #vi #vi arcane #arcane #arcane season 2

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encachette · 3 months ago

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smart mouth 1

Part 1 of 2.

❣ Professor! Bucky Barnes x F!student

❣ uni au, F! student is in her 20s (she’s meannnnnn to our boy, I’m trying to write an unlikable FMC ok)

❣ cw: this is just the build-up to a pwp ch. 2, mentions of university tenure system (sorry, I’m in academia), political science (derogatory), crackfic

❣ MDNI

❣ Word Count: 8.1 k

❣ Summary: The last year of your university career is spent figuring out your life and bickering with taking out your anger on a the new professor in your department. Completing your degree feels endlessly tedious amongst the pile of bills and low prospects of career advancement. So maybe you let yourself indulge in a little game of catch-and-release with a handsome professor who falls over his own feet trying to keep up with you. But sooner or later the man cracks.

❣ Author’s Note: heavily inspired by a professor I had in an undergrad class on “human rights in the 20th century.” The professor himself was a bit of a fuckwit, but still reluctantly very nice to me against all effort on my part. I just wanted to make him scream.

I honestly won’t ever watch superhero movies but I thought Sebastian Stan’s public personality is quite himbo-ish if not a bit shallow, so he was kind of perfect for this piece. (Sorry to his fans, but ain’t no way that man has read Marcus Aurelius. His copy of the book in that GQ interview advertisement had a perfectly un-cracked spine.)

smart mouth, part 1.

“Miss, would you mind taking those out of your ears, please?”

Dr. Barnes mimed at you with a tight-lipped smile, forefingers and thumbs of each hand plucking out wired phantom earphones. You look up him, cocking an eyebrow and trying not to give a smirk — too early in the class to start challenging the doofus — and repeat his motions back to him, making a show of rolling the wires around your slender fingers before shoving them into your jacket pocket. No need to start today’s little sparring session over such a petty attempt to annoy you.

There would be countless errors in his pedagogy or lecture for you to pick at during the course of the hour, no need to tear into him quite yet.

You pull out your notebook and pen, letting out a loud yawn before leaning back in your seat and hiking your feet up on the seat next to you. You’re front and center, your usual spot in every course. At the computer, Dr. Barnes was fumbling around, trying to pull up another one of his bland presentations that would inevitably regurgitate the reading material. You sigh, leaning back and lacing your fingers behind your head, scanning him as he’s trying to remember his password to his Google Drive.

Begrudgingly, you allow yourself to notice how handsome he was; especially so in today’s sky button down and perfectly tailored slacks. The sleeves were haphazardly rolled up, exposing a few veins snaking up his forearm before hiding again under a bunch of white fabric at the crook of his elbow. You follow along the hard lines, eyes dragging up Dr. Barnes’ muscular form and to his face — that creeping shadow from one or two missed days of shaving, angular lines framing downturned, pouty lips. You wanted to bite into them and see the blood rush to the surface.

“Alright gang, we’re up and running. I hope you all finished the book and the accompanying article about…” You tune him out, reviewing in your head the reading material and finding logical flaws with the arguments, preparing to play with Dr. Barnes a bit as he makes his way through his lesson plan.

Today was a particularly irritating day. Your boss at your part-time nonprofit job spent too much time berating you about incorrectly formatted documents, and you sat in on one too many meetings that should have been one email. Plus, you had a stack of reading you had to do for your lectures this week — for classes that actually nurtured your intellectual curiosity. Running on three cups of coffee, your meds, and a spiteful attitude (you had forgone breakfast in exchange for an extra five minutes of sleep this morning), you had skulked into the humanities building and jerkily settled into your seat without your usual patience. In retrospect, maybe this was why you were more ruthless than usual today. Unfair, if you really thought about it.

Dr. Barnes was a perfectly nice guy, when you were feeling generous. Not particularly bright, but still a hard worker who seemed to like teaching; rigorous intellectual interrogation wasn’t a prerequisite for a PhD, evidently. Armed with a travel mug of tea and that stupid leather messenger bag, he was always exactly five minutes early to class, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and ready to prostrate in front of dimwitted little college students in exchange for the raving course evaluations necessary for tenure promotion. He was overeager, if you were totally honest.

Today, his tendency to prolong out his lecture — lingering on obvious concepts that any high school half wit would have understood — was grating on your last nerve. That slow voice he uses to read verbatim from his presentation slides (a sign of insecurity, in your eyes, that an alleged expert needed notes to prompt his lectures) to the class reminded you of the way adults spoke to you when you were five, shooing you away so you wouldn’t insert yourself into their adult conversations.

You’re leaning back in your chair, feet up on the seat next to you, scribbling a few chicken scratches of notes you have no intention of revisiting when you catch an opening in his lecture to interject. Perfect.

“And so, several scholars in the field have argued that practices in these countries have been unable to achieve the same standard of human rights that we find here in the United States,” Dr. Barnes finishes reading off of his lecture slides and aims a bright, toothy smile at the class. “Any questions before we get to discussion of the material?”

Your hand and a corner of your mouth shoot straight up, smirk deepening when Dr. Barnes’ eyes sweep over the class before reluctantly calling on you. You can almost hear his silent prayer, begging for any other student in the class to speak. You feel that beginning sparkling sense of fated victory bloom when he calls your name.

“So, these scholars…” you begin, voice saccharine and playful, “what methodologies did they use to get to that conclusion?” You start easy, asking a question you know he can’t answer, like circling around your prey pretending to decide whether to go in for the kill.

“Uh, well. I’m sure they used comparative methods and used the United States as a control,” he says, so unsure. Your eyes positively gleam at the opening he’s left for you.

“You’re sure, Dr. Barnes? So you’re saying that the United States gets to define ‘human rights’ in these studies?”

“Yes, that’s explicitly in the lecture today,” he says. Aha. He thinks he can rely on his little notes to save him. Too confident.

“So the United States should be the final arbiter of ‘human rights’ in the international political stage, is that what your lecture is arguing?” Fingers formed in air quotes, you’re practically simpering at this point, staring at his expression — he was too satisfied and sure that he had averted a land mine.

Somewhere behind you, you hear a stifled chortle, which seems to have an unnerving effect on Dr. Barnes. You make a note of how his shoulders have a tendency to tense upward when he’s defensive, when he’s faced with a challenge. So, with pure delight in your eyes as you raise an eyebrow, you challenge him to do something. Anything.

He clears his throat before saying your name, real nervous and slow, gravelly. Almost sexy in how pitiful it was. But you continue to speak, steamrolling right over his short-lived moment,

“Because the United States is famously really good at upholding human rights, right Dr. Barnes?” You relish in that little indignant flash across his baby blues, satisfaction dancing through your body the sight of your professor, squirming under your gaze. You made him squirm, someone who was ostensibly a figure of authority over you; some idiot who, by the skin of his teeth, might be a passable researcher but in no way possessed the chops necessary to be a good teacher.

It was cute, the few false starts Dr. Barnes stuttered through before fake laughing — nervous, pink-tinged cheeks curving upward. You almost wanted to flush yourself, a bit too focused on the scruff of his shadow, wondering what it’d be like for it to drag against your skin.

You blink that image out of your head, poised and ready to give your final contribution to the discussion,

“Weird that this is a lecture about the United States’ role in global politics and not a single reading about imperialism was assigned. Pedagogically irresponsible, if you ask me.” You bless him with your brightest smile, uncrossing your legs and crossing them again in opposite order — the sarcasm and smugness practically drips from your gaze. Dr. Barnes’ eyes flash indignantly, but you don’t miss that swift glance down toward your thighs, exposed under the skimpy hemline of your miniskirt.

The sound of laptops shutting and shuffling zippers and paper draws the both of you out of your staring contest.

Dr. Barnes clears his throat again, running his metal hand through his hair and pushing a few loose locks back from his forehead. Your bratty little demeanor remains undisturbed, and you think maybe Dr. Barnes is holding your gaze just a smidge too long before he tears away from you and back into his surroundings.

“Don’t forget to schedule your one-on-one office hour with me so I can approve your final paper research topics. Instructions are on the syllabus!” His last few words are drowned out by the hubbub of chairs screeching against the linoleum and students filling out the door.

Dr. Barnes turns toward you as you’re shoving your notebook into your bag, his handsome face shadowed in a scowl so childish you almost want to reach out and pinch his cheeks. Almost.

“That was extremely disrespectful conduct, Miss —“

“Hey Barnes, you got a minute?” Dr. Barnes’ fuming was abruptly cut off by a cheery masculine voice. You both turn to see Dr. Rogers — one of these days you’ll be able to snag a seat in his research class.

“Stark is asking everyone in the Department to turn in their syllabi for next semester by end-of-business today,” he continues, “Need you to look over my reading list, Buck.” Dr. Rogers stops for a second, clocking that you’re still in the room and clearing his throat, sheepishly correcting himself,

“I meant Dr. Stark; don’t tell him I forgot the ‘doctor’ part, he’s insufferable,” Dr. Rogers speaks to you, slightly nervous chuckle escaping as he offers you a good-natured smile. You make a gesture of zipping your lips, returning Dr. Rogers’ smile as you turn to leave.

Dr. Barnes looks between you and Dr. Rogers before calling your name again.

Hm. Stern, as if he were about to reprimand you.

“We’ll continue this conversation later,” Dr. Barnes glares at you, clearly loathing that smug look you’ve schooled yourself into maintaining. You make a show out of shoving your earphones in and paying attention to your phone instead of him, happily aware that his eyes were boring into your skull as you turn on your heel and strut out of the classroom.

Flippantly, you glance back through the door, a false little smile lighting up your face as you utter a phrase you know won’t do anything but rile up your professor,

“See ya later, Barnes.”

If the academic utopia is meritocracy, you’ll eat your shorts.

✶

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Meeting re: research topic approval

Hi Dr. Barnes,

Can I stop by your office hours next Monday to talk about my research paper topic?

Thanks.

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: re: Meeting re: research topic approval

Yes, please stop by on Monday.

Thunderbolt Hall, Room 616.

JBB

✶

You can’t help but snort as you close out of your email app on your phone, a bit taken aback by the bluntness of Dr. Barnes’ response to you. Half of the time, the man couldn’t stammer out two coherent sentences to answer your questions. The other half, his answers, delivered in clipped tones, were so cookie-cutter and shallow that you’d inevitably be left a little bored. Never were his responses so blunt.

Sure, maybe you were tiptoeing on that line between childish iconoclasm and outright insolence, but really, Dr. Barnes was an academic. He should be grateful that you were there to keep things interesting. At least your questions were generative for discussion!

Not that you cared, but did you push him too far during the last lecture?

Whatever.

Shoving your phone into your jacket pocket, you pack up your supplies and stumble from around the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, back aching from hunching over your books for the last two hours. Peter Parker is rounding the corner and bounding toward you as you hike your bag up your shoulder, two to-go cups in his hands. One for you, one for him. Thank God for that kid.

“Hey, Parker,” you relieve him of one of the coffees, glad you didn’t have to waste time picking up a source of caffeine before your next shift at work. “What’s going on?”

“Hiya. Locking in before my date with MJ later,” he takes a sip of his own coffee before slinging his backpack onto the desk and occupying the seat you just vacated — you would have complained that someone was using your sacred library work alcove if it were anyone other than Peter.

“Godspeed, buddy. Tell MJ I said ‘hi’ and that I’ll see her for Book Club next week.” You give Peter a goofy salute, stern face struggling to contain a smile, before making your way through the labyrinthine library stacks toward the more populated work areas in the front of the building.

✶

Bucky Barnes is spending his usual Tuesday afternoon deep in the stacks of the social sciences library, cobbling together research for the manuscript he was working on. Piles and piles of dusty leather-bound books surrounded his work station, which rudely occupied an entire table that could have sat several other library patrons.

That day was particularly irritating. Nothing felt right. The deadline for a draft of an article was looming large, and the pressure to publish as often and as much as possible was slowly closing in on him. Helping Steve formulate two undergrad syllabi proved to be a several hour-long endeavor, so Bucky lost an entire morning that he planned on devoting to catching up on his reading. Too many papers to grade, too many faculty meetings to attend, too many articles to review: Bucky was on the brink of burn out.

Despite the organized chaos that was his life as an untenured academic, a significant chunk of that day’s irritation can be attributed to that fucking smart mouth girl in his first lecture of the day. He’d dealt with his fair share of knuckleheads throughout his few years as a young professor, always with an open mind and a kind shoulder — qualities that he felt were essential for a good educator to possess. But you, he pictured you in his head with a sneer.

It was always something with you —

“Actually, that’s the wrong year, Dr. Barnes,” or

“You don’t sound so sure about that, Dr. Barnes,” or

“Dr. Barnes, are you sure that’s how you want to structure the lecture today?” Of course he was fucking sure. He’d been teaching this course for years and his teaching evaluations were top-notch, no thanks to you and your attempts to shake his confidence. Where the fuck did you get off on questioning his authority?

Bucky had spent maybe the first few weeks of the semester mulling over what he had possibly done to provoke you into being such a thorn in his side.

He supposed the first incident happened when he made the mistake of giving you a 98% on a paper and you had decided to grade grub him into oblivion. He thinks about that moment with a derisive snort. Little Miss Overachiever. Bursting into his office, absolutely incensed that a — and this is verbatim — “second round draft pick hire” had the gall to give you anything less than a 100%, the stones to ruin her perfect record.

If he were being perfectly honest, you were much more intelligent than your peers, and part of him understood that your behavior stemmed from boredom. University hadn’t been particularly challenging for you and it seemed to him that you were fed up with it. Figuring out how to fulfill every student’s needs in the classroom tended to be easy for him — his course evals were almost always glowing with praise for his pedagogy. But you. He just couldn’t figure out how to channel all of your spite into something intellectually productive, not only for the sake of peace in his classroom but because he (quite begrudgingly) wanted you to feel like you learned something. That was his fucking job, for fuck’s sake.

Bucky shakes his head, as if his brain were a goddamn etch-a-sketch and he could erase the image of you, sitting so pretty with that petulant smirk that seemed glued to your face. Without fail, always front-and-center. Ready to taunt him, make him flustered, like he wasn’t good enough to be your academic superior. With a deep sigh and a frustration that didn’t seem to dissipate no matter what he did, Bucky tries to knuckle down to finish his task in the library. He would not let some tiny little know-it-all distract him from his work. A know-it-all with a pretty face.

No. Focus, Barnes…

Bucky had started off that day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, having completed his departmental duties for the week. He even had the time to edit both his and Steve’s syllabi for the course offerings next semester. His house was spic and span, not a spec of dust or a cat hair out of place — no thanks to Alpine. (Bucky loved that little fleabag to bits but goddamn did she shed like it was her full-time job.) The quiet of his morning routine was perfectly routinized to prep him for the bustle of the day. It was almost ritualistic, the warmth of his coffee mug — “Professor of the Year, 2020” garishly printed in university colors — and an apple as he reads through the queue of journal articles he’s behind on editing. Alpine would undoubtedly be inhaling her food (top of the line, grain-free, high protein, expensive cat food) after screaming bloody murder because her kibble landed in her dish at 7:01 instead of 7:00 am on the dot. After breakfast, Bucky lets Alpine go outside in the yard to chase around the critters in his herb garden, which he admitted was wilting at a faster pace than he’d like. Every so often Alpine would up look at him while he flipped through his textbooks, bright eyes blinking at him slowly as he sat on his porch with his one allotted cigarette of the day.

That morning had proceeded like every other morning, calm and restorative. Nothing was out of place, and Bucky was feeling pretty confident in himself that day. Finally. The stress of working toward tenure was wrapping itself around him like a vice, a near-constant suffocation until recently. Bucky thought he was getting a handle on his career, surefooted in his future at such a prestigious research university.

That is, until the venomous game you insisted on playing with him in every lecture finally knocked him off kilter.

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

“Everyone read the assigned text for this week, correct?”

A weak mix of murmurs and ‘yes’s answered his question as an incessant noise started to permeate through the classroom.

Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap.

Dr. Bucky Barnes’ bright blues, followed the source of the tapping, up the slender hand of its owner before loudly clearing his throat, as was his wont, though he quite hated that habit of his.

“Great, can someone briefly summarize the author’s argument so we’re all on the same page?”

Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap. Perfectly polished nails wrapped around a pencil as its eraser end collided again and again onto the desk. Bucky’s quick to glare at you this time, one eye twitching as he called on some overeager student whose hand shot up immediately.

“Well, Habermas’ idea of the public sphere…”

You raise your eyebrows, but you don’t challenge him, placing your pencil down instead of tapping it harder. A-ha. Victory, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t quite understand why in that moment, but the thought of that small, ever-so-slight advantage he had over you in today’s game sent a burst of warmth through his chest.

Overeager Try Hard pulls Bucky from his slight victory, and he trains his attention on the kid again.

“…and so liberal regimes tend to emphasize intellectual exchange in the public sphere as a basis for the educated voter.” Listening to this kid was such a fucking effort today, but Bucky forces a brighter demeanor,

“Yes, that’s correct —“ Bucky is cut off by a loud snort, much earlier than he expected. His eyes shoot straight toward you, as if he was willing you to combust in your seat. All you can do is roll your eyes at him, like a fucking child, he thinks. He almost bares his teeth when you dismissively mutter,

“Oh, please.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for about three seconds, desperate to keep his slender grasp on his self-control, before he draws out your name and practically snarls,

“Do you have something to say? Or can we both be adults and have a discussion without your attitude?”

A few mocking “ooh, she’s in trouble” ring out from the rest of your classmates, a low sniggering coming from Try Hard behind you. Bucky almost felt like he was winning — the teasing from your classmates, the brief shock at his assertiveness before your face breaks out into such a bright smile.

To Bucky’s great dismay, that mischievous, evil grin didn’t look anything like a conciliatory “You’re right, Dr. Barnes, I’m so sorry and I’ll never undermine you in my tight little skirts again” kind of smile. No, it was a “You’re in for it now, Barnes,” kind of grin, one that sent shivers up his spine in a way that left him almost… excited? Desperate for you to keep responding to him?

You only look at him, maintaining eye contact that felt much too intense for a lesson about what’s-his-philosopher-face and abstract political theory. Bucky swears he feels the tingles in his spine shoot straight to his heart when you respond in the most unexpected way: you back down.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Dr. Barnes.” That saccharine sweet voice, infused with the most malice he’d heard from you yet; and he almost short circuits when you push your bottom lip out into a pout. “Please, continue the lesson.”

What, no jab about his intellect? No undermining fucking snobby comments about his teaching methods? Bucky didn’t know how to respond, so he moved forward. “Just keep going, Barnes. Class is almost over,” he chides himself.

“Right. So,” Fuck. Stop stuttering, Barnes. “As we were discussing, Habermas’ ideas —“

Tap. TAP. Tap. TAP.

Bucky looks down at you again, no pencil in hand this time so his eyes travel down to the source of the noise. You don’t miss the way they’re caught on the skin left uncovered by your skirt, a sudden rush of heat flowing through your chest when your professor’s eyes slink down your legs toward the source of his annoyance. When Bucky’s eyes land on your boots, one of them tippy-tippy-tapping away in a deliberate attempt to make him go insane.

“Are you kidding me, right now, Ms. LN!?” Bucky blurts out at you, clipped tone threatening to burst into something louder, more powerful in impact because you have needled him one too many times. The sheer delight in your eyes doesn’t do anything but completely infuriate him.

“Oh ho ho! Look who’s finally developed a backbone,” you actually jeer at him. That domineering little smirk that he’s become so familiar with. You stop your tapping, leaning back and folding your arms across your chest. Bucky doesn’t miss the way your chest is pushed against your arms, making them look bigger, big enough to fit into the palm of his hand, maybe. Fucking God, Barnes. Focus.

“You’re way out of line today,” Bucky starts, ready to tear you a new one, let you know how fucking irritating it is to have a know-it-all in a course that he spent so much time, so much meticulous attention into developing.

“I’ll step back in line when you can teach, Barnes,” you scoff. You actually fucking scoff. And Bucky is seeing too much red to pay any attention to the taunting and chittering surrounding the two of you. And maybe, (just maybe) Bucky would grow to regret the words that spilled, unrestrained and furious as he slammed down his pile of lecture notes on the table:

“Listen, you and your smart mouth have been nothing but disrespectful to me and your classmates every single day of this semester. If you don’t like my teaching style, drop the class.”

“This course is required for my major, Dr. Barnes,” you state, too smooth, derisiveness barely concealing a deeper anger. “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be wasting my time listening to an ‘academic’ so clearly devoid of intellectual depth.”

Bucky swears he feels both of his eyes twitch as he takes a deep, shuddering breath, every drop of will he had channeled into remaining civilized. ‘She’s just a student. Don’t say anything you’ll regret,’ he breathes to himself, over and over. The air quotes you placed around “academic” were too far.

Before Bucky could figure out the most civilized, but strict response, you stand up and turn on your heel, careful to tap your boots as annoyingly as possible as you leave in the middle of the lecture. You stop by the exit, turning around and calling over your shoulder to Bucky, again in that deceptively sweet voice, “Whatever, Dr. Barnes, see you in your office hours.”

In a move that was nothing short of uncool, Bucky calls after you, lacing as much menace as possible, as if he was issuing an ominous warning: “Fine! See you then. We’ll be discussing your unruly behavior, Miss LN.” You return nothing but a simpering smirk, fingers wiggling in a facetious wave that boils Bucky’s blood.

He does everything he can to ignore how shiny your hair is as you turn to leave, short skirt hiking up that much further as you tap, tap, tap down the hall.

˚̣̣̣ ꒷︶†︶꒷˚̣̣̣︶ ͡𑁬♱໒ ͡ ︶˚̣̣̣꒷︶†︶꒷ ˚̣̣̣

Even the quiet of the library, with its warm wood and cozy chairs, couldn’t soothe his mood. Bucky decides he needs a break, maybe a cup of coffee to wipe the mishap of today’s lecture from his brain. Maybe he’ll go down to the library café on the first floor and see if they had any of those blueberry muffins he liked so much. He stands up and drags one of the large leather armchairs near him closer to the large, arched windows. A hot cup of coffee and his books next to the window. Surely that’ll return him to some kind of equilibrium.

Bucky sighs and gives a yawn, arms up as he’s stretching out his back before he makes his way through the maze of shelves lined with rich leather-bound tomes, each in its rightful place. He lets that thought calm him. Everything is where it should be in the library. No nagging smart ass student. No irritating boss, because Dr. Stark would rather spend time schmoozing with department donors than in a classroom. No distractions — just Bucky and his stack of books, ready to be digested and organized into coherent research. Nothing out of place in his library until he runs into you, that is. As Bucky rounds the corner toward the elevator, a flash of long hair and a familiar short skirt stops him in his tracks.

He pauses for a second before stepping behind the nearest immediate shelf, able to see you and Peter without being observed himself. Bucky doesn’t really process it in that moment, but a tug of adrenaline sends his heart rate up as he watches Peter hand you a cup of coffee. Your face — annoyingly pretty, Bucky thinks — lit up gratitude as your hands grab for the warmth of the cup. Peter leans in, surely too close for propriety’s sake, to hear you better as the last few whispers elicit a chuckle from him. He watches you give a stupid salute to Peter, and a strange, dark heat bubbling through him and tightening his chest.

That day, head hunched over a few archival parchment documents, all that pranced through through his brain were you and your little attitude and little fucking skirt, and the fact that you had picked the wrong fucking day to antagonize him.

Hours later when he retraced the events of the day before bed, Bucky still really couldn’t explain why he stopped so abruptly, why seeing you with that Parker kid was so frustrating for him.

✶

It’s fucking early. Too fucking early on a Monday for you to be dragging yourself out of bed to make your appointment with Dr. Barnes. Usually you wouldn’t bother getting out of bed before 11 AM, but today was a stacked day: meeting with Barnes, work, then a few hours in the library to finish a few assignments. First on the agenda: getting Dr. Barnes’ office hours appointment out of the fucking way.

Of course, you were aware that you were in for a rather unpleasant conversation with Barnes, but you knew that it was bound to come sooner or later. Your behavior wasn’t exactly exemplary of a bright student on track to attending an R1 research graduate program next year. Oh on the contrary, you recognized that your behavior wasn’t much of a deviation from that of a petulant child who had missed her afternoon nap — grouchy, mean, and desperate for calm. But you couldn’t help it. Every time Barnes wanted to explain something (something you already knew, most likely), he dragged out his words like you were actually four fucking years old, like you were just learning such big words and couldn’t connect ideas together with your own, undeveloped brain. Worse than the over-explaining, you supposed that his worst crime was that you had learned absolutely nothing from him throughout the semester. You didn’t feel intellectually challenged. In a course you PAID TUITION for, no less. It was completely unfair.

So, if he treated you like you were a dumb kid, then you’d make it as unpleasant for him as possible. He made it so easy to argue with him. Often wrong, always timid and slow to rebuke — quite honestly, sometimes you thought that you were doing him a service, pushing him into becoming a better teacher. Forcing him to prove his arguments rather than regurgitating outdated research that had no business being taught in the 21st century.

Obviously, this effort was to no avail.

The chill of autumn seeped into the brick walls of your tiny apartment, kicking on the creaky radiator that sometimes disturbed your sleep with its ghostly noises. Usually, the sounds and smells of your routine, the slowness of the morning, were enough to calm you: the burbling and snap of the electric kettle, fragrant coffee with a hazelnut creamer, your little mackerel tabby, Friday, mewing at you for her breakfast.

“Hi, baby,” you coo at her, all nine pounds of terror weaving between your ankles, “Momma’s gotta be out for the whole day today so you be good.” You scratch her one last time under her chin and pour kibble into her bowl, refreshing her water before you mentally prepare for the gruel of the work day. “Don’t try to chew through the treat bag again or we’ll have a problem.”

It was sluggish, the pace at which you pull on your clothes, guided by the weather app on your phone. With perfunctory, sharp motions, you yank on your knitted tights, skirt, and sweater, the second-hand cashmere a tiny comfort to you as you lock up and trudge to the bus stop, the weight of your school bag exacerbating your misery and irritation as your make your way to Thunderbolt Hall.

Earbuds blasted music through your ears, sunglasses blocking your stare. The scarf you’ve pulled close around your nose and mouth to keep in the warmth swishing in the air as you stomped through the university commons. Any excuse to avoid social interaction this early in the morning. Music gave you an excuse to keep walking, anyone stopping to greet you automatically assuming that you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them, or didn’t want to be bothered. Your sensory-deprivation contraption, you think, amused as you trekked toward Dr. Barnes’ office.

✶

Dr. Bucky Barnes hears the tap of your boots before he sees you. He’d been dreading this meeting, unsure of how you’d react to him reprimanding you for your behavior. He was determined to remain civilized today. Last lecture was nothing more than a student getting to him and him losing his cool. It was unprofessional. It felt fucking good, but unprofessional, nevertheless. And Bucky was nothing if not professional.

Nested at the end of the hall on the fourth floor of an old building foisted aside to be used by underfunded humanities departments, Bucky’s office was lucky enough to enjoy the warmth of the sun streaming in from two wide bay windows. Surrounded by furniture of dark wood, a cozy living room setup sat in front of the fireplace, which would be put to use as the northeast winter arrives in full force. Bucky tried hard to make it comfortable, bringing in a blanket and a few photos that he framed and displayed on the mantle. One of him and Steve the day they both graduate from their PhD programs. A photo of Bucky with a tight smile while shaking Dr. Stark’s hands, taken against his will on the day of his “welcome” party that the department secretary insisted was earmarked in the budget.

In the corner, a coffee machine whirred as it made his usual second cup of morning coffee. Bucky scoots in his fancy leather chair over to retrieve his mug, sipping on it just as he hears your knuckles wrap on his office door.

He waits a second, placing his mug down on a coaster before arranging himself behind his desk, ready to be the responsible adult between the two of you. He has his hands around his coffee mug, the ceramic warming his hands, and clears his throat one last time,

“Come in.” He watches the knob turn before your head pokes in, looking left and right before stepping in, leaving the door ajar. You’re stone faced, making your way slowly to the seat directly in front of Bucky’s desk and facing him. Bucky notices your skirt… barely catching his disappointment when he sees that your legs are covered in cable-knit tights. God damn, focus, Barnes. You cross, and uncross your legs, fidgeting with your bag in your lap, and raise an eyebrow at him.

He doesn’t respond, but just continues to stare at you, challenging you with an arch of a brow. You can make the first move today. He wants to know which way you’re headed.

“Well, Dr. Barnes,” you sigh, “we have a laundry list of shit to get through on the agenda, so where do you want to start?”

He snorts, amused and unable to conceal it, so he smirks and just says,

“Why not the easiest task? Run your research paper idea by me first.” Just as he couldn’t conceal the fact that he found you amusing, you couldn’t hide your surprise at his choice. But you quickly school yourself into a stony face once again.

“Sure. I’m thinking of juggling several ideas in my paper...” you explain as you pull out your notebook, flipping a few pages before turning to a sheet lined with pretty, swooping handwriting. Bucky notices the neatness with each flare of your pen, how organized you are and how it tickles something in his brain when he sees your long fingers wrap around a pen.

“…hello?” You snap a finger in front of Bucky’s face, shocking him out of his daze. Shit, what did she say?

“I’m listening, I’m listening,” Bucky lies, hurriedly trying to get a grip on himself. He was so determined to be in control of the conversation. “Your idea is good. No notes.”

Your face wrinkles, confused and a little frustrated. That pouty lip pushes out a bit, just the way Bucky liked to stare at sometimes when he caught you zoning out in class. Oops. Wrong thing to say, Bucky winces.

“That’s it?” You spat out your words with incredulity, vaguely aware that you had crossed a line somewhere and giving over to your intuition, you tense; ever so slightly, but enough for Bucky to feel his eyes flash in defiance.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he says as his brows knit together, crossing his leg to rest one ankle on the opposite knee; he can still salvage the situation. But what the fuck would he say? “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to a word you were saying, I was too fixated on your fingers and what they could be touching?” The thought of it was enough to make him blush.

“I mean, you have no suggestions at all as to how I can improve my research topic?” Okay. Don’t panic, Barnes. Double down. Just double down.

“I think it’s brilliant, actually,”

“Figures.” You scoff, murmuring under your breath, and by this point, Bucky knows that he’s completely lost control of the situation.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Figures that you’d have nothing useful to say. Thanks for the meeting anyway.” You look at your watch before adding, all lofty and slow, “I have somewhere to be.”

You’re spinning on the heel of your boots — much too smug for someone dangerously close to receiving a referral to the Student Conduct Office — before you stop in your tracks at Bucky’s next command.

“No,” he spits out, “We have one more thing to discuss.” He’ll be damned if he let you out of this classroom without some acknowledgment that you were a pain in his ass.

“And what would that be?” you whirl around, quiet, frustrated, and a little taken aback by Bucky’s harsh tone.

“Don’t start,” he commands. You notice his upper arms, muscular, veiny, flex as he grips the arms of his office chair.

“What, you want me to apologize to you? You want me to say ‘sorry’ to the big man whose ego can’t take a little bruising?” you jab, but the confidence is not quite as striking as usual.

“Sit down,” he commands. Again. Much more assertive this time. He nods his head towards the seat you had previously occupied, and adds, “now.” You had frozen, midstep, with your hand on the door handle, cold brass against your palm making your pulse all the more noticeable.

Bucky is almost gleeful when he sees the surprise on your face at his directions. So surprised. So pretty. He watches you slowly make your way back into the chair, setting your bag on the floor next to you and crossing your legs before leaning back.

“Yes?” You grit out, slowly dragging your eyes up to meet his. Arms crossed, you dare to pull that face that gets Bucky so riled up. He clears his throat before beginning,

“We’re not done talking. Your behavior in class has been disrespectful and disruptive. I know for a fact that you don’t behave like this with other professors. What’s going on?” This was the mature thing to do, Bucky had thought. To sit down, ask his colleagues for help, and talk to you like you were an equal. “What’s your problem with me, huh?”

You don’t react, at least externally. You only smile, that fake sweet smirk that he can’t get away from.

“Why, I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Barnes.” Bucky has to take a deep breath, reminding himself not to get riled up. Not to let you get to him.

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” Bucky responds, strict and to the point. He keeps staring at you, sure that he was in command of the situation. You watch as he gets up from his chair, making his way to lean back against his desk, directly in front of you. He crosses his arms, mirroring you. You don’t like the confident little attitude he has today. You didn’t know how to deal with this version of him. So you keep poking at him, in a way that you knew, that you were sure would rile him up.

“Aw, Dr. Barnes. Why don’t you explain to me what you’re talking about? As clearly as you can, please?” You keep the shit-eating simper on, but it fades into confused intrigue as he moves closer to you, invading too much of the air around you.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Bucky savors that innocent moment of shock on your face before he rests his hands, one on each arm of the chair you were sitting in, your arms and legs still crossed as you failed to keep your breathing even. A vague scent of man and aftershave sending an exhilaration through you and flooding you with a warmth. A familiar warmth you’ve only ever felt in your bedroom at night. After the long fucking library sessions and steaming hot showers, when you’d collapse into your bed utterly exhausted but mentally alert, you’d let your mind wander.

The closer Bucky got to you, the more you could see the little flecks in his blue eyes. He was angry. Furious, even. His mouth had set into a frown, and he was so fucking confused about how out of hand the situation had gotten, how out of control he felt in that moment. So he does what he feels is right, just like you always say what you feel is right. He leans in closer to you, nose almost touching yours as he breathes into you,

“I’ve been so patient with you, you know that Little Miss Smart Mouth?” Bucky looks down at your lips and back at your eyes, rasping, “Every fucking day. You come into my classroom and you torture me.” He watches you uncross your arms and legs, attempting to sit up straighter in your chair. He keeps waiting for you to push him away. For you to say something mean. To reject him.

But you don’t. You stare right back at him, demeanor so bewildered and at a loss for words, Bucky dares to let himself think that you were sexy. Pupils dilated, staring up at him, at a loss for words. Uncharacteristically quiet, and Bucky decides that he likes that look on your face, a little awed, a little defiant, but sexy. He watches you swallow, trying to grasp at words that usually come so easily to you,

“I —” Your stammer sounds so strange, and Bucky relishes in this moment, the chance to catch you off guard and unsure of where the dynamic between the two of you broke. He watches you, as you wonder how you have lost the upper hand.

“What, Miss L.N.? Cat finally got your tongue?” he teases, smirking down as he slowly, ever-so slowly, closes the gap between the two of you.

The press of his lips against yours is hungry. Electrifying. Hot. Bucky groans when you lean into the kiss, your hands coming up to cup his face and pulling him closer. Impossibly closer. He breathes you in as he kisses you, hands traveling up your back and bringing you to your feet. He feels a twitch in between his legs when you moan into his mouth, and he bites your bottom lip when you break the kiss.

Bucky stares at you as his chest heaves, your mouth swollen and pink where he had nipped you. Your eyes are glued to his lips, and he gives you what you want, with just as much desire and urgency as before.

“Can’t be a snarky little know-it-all now, huh baby?” Bucky murmurs into your mouth, fingers carding through your hair and working toward a firm grip at the base of your scalp. He gives a tug, and his cock hardens at the whimper that comes out of you when he turns your face to look at his, at the control he has over you in that moment, at the fact that you couldn’t escape him. You smirk up at him, still wild-eyed, and bite back,

“I don’t know, Dr. Barnes, guess you’ll just have to see.” You giggle, that girlish teasing giggle that drove Bucky fucking crazy. Your hands, just as greedy as Bucky felt, ran up the length of his arms, squeezing his biceps lightly before they settled on his chest.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs into you before capturing your lips again, desperate, savoring the feel of your lips on his. His cock demanded so much more when he felt you smile into the kiss.

But no, he’s in control today. Even if he hadn’t planned for today to turn out the way it did, he was still going to be in control of this. Of you.

The moment you both come up for air, Bucky steps back, trying to catch himself, to calm down. Your eyes trail down his body appreciatively, the glowing smile on your face brightening when you land on the bulge in your professor’s slacks and Bucky feels his cock betray him, twitching under his boxers and hardening even more under your observant gaze.

“Dr. Barnes,” you look up at him through your lashes, glasses slipping down your nose bridge when your lips perk up, “I thought you were an unremarkable teacher before, but now I’m thinking you’re dumber than I originally thought.”

Bucky tenses up even more, arms cross as he leans back against his desk. It’s taking everything in him not to pounce on you. You seemed to obey his commands earlier, when he was losing his grip on his temper. Bucky could do that again, he could be what you wanted, if it meant you’d stay.

If it meant you’d let him get you off.

“Stop talking, Miss Smart Mouth,” he sneers at you, in command of his tone — low, seared with lust when he sees you bite your lip, obeying him. God, fuck. You were just turned on as he was, he knew it. “Strip.” he says, more demanding this time, still not moving from his position against his desk. You weren’t more than a foot away from him. He could just reach out right now, give you both what you wanted.

But Bucky was patient. He was going to drag this out. For himself. For all the times you’ve gotten on his fucking nerves, undermining his authority during class, in front of other students. For getting to his ego, of all things.

He was patient as you stripped, one garment after another peeling off to reveal smooth, glowing skin that he was dying to lay his hands on. A glimpse of your clavicle here, soft thighs there, Bucky wasn’t sure where he wanted to concentrate his stare. Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks to himself when his stare lands on your cleavage; soft, supple, begging to be bitten. By the time you were down to just your bra and panties, Bucky catches himself just in the nick of time.

“Wait, stop.”

You pause, looking up at him and arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, Dr. Barnes?” you ask, timid, in anticipation of what would happen next.

More often than you’d ever admit, your hands would wander under the cloud-soft cotton of your panties, fingers wandering toward your slit and smearing the wetness around your clit, determined to reach an orgasm that would put you into a deep slumber. You’d rather die than admit it, but sometimes, it was Dr. Barnes’ image in your head that brought you to your peak. His muscular forearms, lined with veins and evidently fortified by strength-training, would strain under your grip as he shoved himself in your imagination.

“Come here,” he gestures to you with one hand and moves to clear space on the desk before he taps the wood. The sight of his huge, toned body in front of you, out of reach and ready for you to touch — you felt the cotton of your panties dampen, just like you did on those nights you got yourself off to the image of Dr. Barnes. You take a step forward, hesitant, unable to keep your nerves reigned in.

“Finally found the stones to fight back, huh, Dr. Barnes?” you tease, attempting to get your head back into the dynamic you were used to. You were turned on, but not so much that you were willing to give up your dignity in that moment.

Unamused, Dr. Barnes taps the wood again. His next command is huskier, like he’s not willing to play your game anymore.

“Bend over,” he says, muscles in his jaw jostling with the strength it takes to hold himself back. He couldn’t describe it, this energy between the two of you. A heady, lustful sheen had blanketed the two of you in your own little world. He forgot who he was. He forgot that you were his student. He forgot himself, and all he wanted to do was scream.

#writing in hiding₊‧.°.⋆✮⋆.°.‧₊#bucky barnes #smut #smut fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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businessabroad · 2 years ago

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This is What the UN's Application Process is Like #13

youtube

Demystifying the UN Job Application: Your Guide to Getting In

Embarking on the path to a United Nations career can seem daunting, especially when facing the application process. "This is What the UN's Application Process is Like - UN Jobs #13" is here to dispel the mysteries and equip you with valuable insights into each step.

From crafting your application to acing the interview, we dive into what it takes to stand out in a pool of global applicants. The video goes beyond basic tips, offering a narrative that echoes the experiences and advice of those who've successfully navigated the process.

Ready to take on the challenge? Tune in to transform your approach and align your application with the United Nations' core mission and values.

#UNJobsGuide #CareerAspirations #JobApplicationTips #UnitedNationsCareer

Here are all the videos in this course.

The Benefits of Working at the United Nations

UN Duty Station: What it is and What you Can Expect

The Process of Getting A Job at the United Nations

How to Apply For A Job At The United Nations

United Nations Levels and Salary - What are they?

Type of Contract at the United Nations

United Nations Steps and Contract Negotiation

United Nations Jobs, Job Role, and Posting Locations

UN Job Opportunities - How to Increase Your Odds

Best Places for Your Family to Live

How are you Competing Against

United Nations Official Languages

This is What the UN's Application Process is Like

How to success your test at the United Nations

Before Passing Your Interview at the United Nations

How to Successfully Interview For a Competency-Based Job

List of Questions used in Competency-Based Interview

What to do After the Interview at the United Nations

#UN Job Application #How to Apply to the UN #United Nations Careers #Application Tips UN #UN Employment Process #Job Application Process #UN Jobs Application Guide #UN Careers Application Advice #International Organization Jobs #UN Application Steps #UN Job Interview Preparation #United Nations Hiring #Youtube

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jessilynallendilla · 7 months ago

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DPXDC KID DANNY FIC REC

TITLE/LI NK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

KID DANNY

Eldritch Toddler T 7,466 SERIES

Bruce is not prepared for when John Constantine hands over a young boy who has been de-aged. While Constantine goes off in search of the one responsible, Bruce and his family are left to care for the child. Danny is a sweet kid, he isn't fussy either! This should be fine. They quickly learn to take Constantine's warnings seriously.

I Found Him, He's Mine Now G 1,810 SERIES

Damian finds Danny alone in the park waiting for his (imaginary) dog with no parents in sight. That level of negligence is unacceptable and if he has to be this boy's guardian then so be it.

Mother Of The Storms And Her Star Child T

After an accident leaves everyone Danny has ever known dead, and clockwork injured. He brings a now younger Danny to an old friend. His old pal has the perfect place for him amongst her other wards. But Danny is scared and scarred, can the bat fam trace down the young boys origins? Leave it to the family of detectives.

Danny Finding A Family In The Shape Of A Bat NR

Clockwork sends Danny to alt dimension de-aged and injured after the reveal goes bad. Clockwork had a plan and lets Danny know so he can get set in this new world where being a hero is an actual job, and sliding Danny where he needs to be to gain an actual childhood and training. Bruce finds another blood child he didn't know about.

So You Suddenly Found Yourself The Father Of A Ghost Child.... G SERIES

Timothy Drake-Wayne would have it known that he did not get infected by Bruce's adoption problem. The kid hanging off of his coat just followed him home.

Cut Out The Middleman G 973 SERIES

Alfred adopts himself a grandchild.

(Un)Dead Beat Dad NR

Danny finally escaped his parents, and in his muddled thought process, went to see his mentor, clockwork. Clockwork, however, had no clue what to do and took Danny to his dear old friend, Gotham. Going along with this game of halfa telephone, Gotham took the now six-year-old boy to her most trustworthy knight.

It Takes A Mob NR 8,402 SERIES

Bill didn't ask for a lot from life. A roof over his head and a job to the pay the rent. He spent a lot of his adult life being the punching bag of a bunch of furries and has had every single bone in his leg removed on more than one occasion. That being said he wasn't a dumbass. He knew how to read a room and was smart enough to Know when the odds had changed. It's this reason that Bill has found himself in the possession of one tiny Meta in the city known for a strict rule against them. God, Bill should've never left the Goonion.

Gotham's Youngest Ghost NR

Somewhere in Gotham, a small child finds themself alone and lost on the streets of Crime Alley. Nearby, a liminally-challenged vigilante has no idea his life is about to be turned upside down. Again. This is all Clockwork's fault, Danny is sure of it.

My Boy, My Son G 18,210 SERIES

In desperate need of a vacation, Danny has Clockwork turn him into a five year old so that he can have the childhood he never got. Soon, five year old Danny finds himself running wild in Gotham only to be kidnapped by some weird teenager in a costume who decides that Danny is going to be his son. What's Danny to do but accept this new weird guy as his new dad and become a super cool crime fighting vigilante with his new adopted family who have no clue he's a two thousand year old ghost king?

Uncanny G

Jim Gordon sees a boy walk down Park Row. A boy that looks exactly identical to a tiny and terrified kid that he pulled into his arms and comforted after his parents died so many years ago.

Don't Leave Me In The Dark NR SERIES

What's Jason supposed to do when he comes home one night to find a crying child with only one arm, and Lazarus Pit green eyes, wiping their own blood up from his apartment floor? The answer is probably not, "Adopt them.", but, hey, he's never had the best plans and the kid looks like he weighs five pounds soaking wet. (Danny can't remember how old he is - he remembers being sixteen, but he remembers being six even clearer - just that the last thing in his head is someone rooting around his intestines and telling him he's a fascinating specimen.)

Sunshine T 2,826 SERIES

Dick finds a pair of young children outside in the cold. He takes them in as his own. Soon Jazz starts showing worrying signs.

The Son Of The Red Hood T

Clockwork intervenes in Danny's life so that he can learn all he needs to be king of the Infinite Realms, and hopefully this time he can actually be loved and cared for the way he deserves.

It's Strong, And It's Sudden, And It's Cruel Sometimes (But It Might Just Save Your Life) T 1,404 SERIES

[Attempt number-one-hundred had been successful.] When Dan woke up, his very first thought was his usual: ‘Goddamn son of a fucking bitch.’ That was when he realized that he didn’t say it out loud.

A Ghostling's Second Chance T

Due to a problem concerning ghosts, undead, and the reliving happening in lady Gotham's city, she asked for help from her dear friend Clockwork. one thing leads to the other and now team phantom must help the bats with cults, owls, talons, LoA, and... apparently being known as teen dads??? Team phantom also has to deal with being de-aged, good thing that half of them can pass as old beings who can be tracked back to the roman empire, or is the Egyptian empire older??

Alfred And The Tiny Attic Squatters G

Alfred discovers four tiny squatters hiding in the attic and spends a number of days coaxing them out while keeping Bruce and the rest of the family from imploding after they discover that Damian is not his only child. It only gets more chaotic when they discover other relations and that the children may be involved in many of the unexplained events going on around Gotham. Jazz just wants to punch Clockwork in the throat for de-aging them and dropping them in a alternate dimension where she is getting targeted by a combat furry crime boss and his bird-themed minions, several of who seemed to have developed a obsession with her that is giving her strong Vlad vibes.

The Joys Of Fatherhood T SERIES

He'd never expected this. It was a complete shock. But he was going to do this right, he was going to be the best dad ever to this precious little boy. His adorable little bird.

A Second Life G 159,219 SERIES

He wakes up with no memories. He knows things, but he doesn’t know why. Who is he? And how did he get here?

Baby Catastrophe (Literally) T

Everyone knows babies exist. Only a few know that Jason has a baby. And none of them know that said baby is a de-aged Ghost King with no survival instincts.

Imprint T

He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly. What the fuck. What the hell was Jason supposed to do now?

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away T SERIES

After escaping from the GIW, Danny crash lands in Gotham. He's six years old, his entire life has burned behind him, and one of the Gotham vigilantes is running around with a stifled Core. What's a kid to do? A Jason Adopts Danny fic featuring De-aged!Danny, family feels, and Jason's Grand Master Plan going completely off the rails.

Dick Grayson V Gotham T

It's taken months, but Dick Grayson was finally able to foster Danny Smith, the kid who kept showing up to crime scenes and solving murders. But after reporters learn about Danny's existence, Dick returns to Gotham to wait out the media storm. Fortunately, Bruce is allowing him to help on this new Red Hood case. Danny's not supposed to be here. Not in this dimension, not in this kid body, not without his powers. For the last year, he's made the most of it and even developed a reputation of being a medium detective. But now, his foster dad is taking him to Gotham, where threats new and old challenge the stability he's found.

Raising Phantom T SERIES

Jasmine started working at Gotham's Public Library, while having to take care of her baby brother and going to college. Danny is frustrated at having to be in hiding as well as everything else poor in his life. Also there is something off about the man that comes in to check books out. His family included. Batfamily playing a game to figure out these two's life only for things to get serious quickly.

The Boy King And The Dark Knights T SERIES

Daniel Fenton may be dead, but he wasn’t suicidal. Unfortunately, avoiding Batman and his vigilantes get a lot harder when he’s stuck in a seven year olds body in Gotham. Clockwork so owes him for this. In which Danny Fenton fixes a broken family, grows a bit as a person, and makes another technically-dead friend. Not exactly in that order.

To Become Blue-Blooded T

Bruce Wayne was named Prince of Gotham for decades. He didn’t though about it much. The Wayne family being called the royal family of America, or the Bat family having great influence and prestige in the superheroes community was just another type of fame, of prestige, sometimes a tool but more of an annoyance. Danny Fenton knew the weight of the Infinite Realms’ Throne. It was the type of power that reached everything around you and changed all your ties in life and death. He took the smart decision when he refused. But the Realms needed a Monarch. And so Daniel existed.

#batman #danny phantom #dpxdc #long post #fic rec

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randomingoftherandomness · 7 months ago

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Hello, a fic on pretty Zhuyan in Pretty Dress with jealous zyc and other members being protective fending off people ? 😅💖

A/N: I’m waiting for my meds to kick in so there may be some typos and shit here, but I thought I would take a stab at this while trying to calm my allergies ✌🏼 Thanks for the prompt Nonnie! Hope you enjoy this x

—

There was no way they were letting Xiao Jiu be the bait. Not when he had blinked so sweetly and tilted his head to ask them, “What’s a gentlemen’s club?”

Ying Lei was also out of the question because… Well. There’s no fooling anyone with that mane of his.

Herself and Pei Sijing are the wrong genders for this task, which left the toss up between Zhao Yuanzhou and Xiao Zhuo. Something that the demon quickly ended with a smile that was very much all-knowing and a curious sparkle in his eyes that never broke when he looked at Xiao Zhuo as he took the pile of clothes, and winked at the blushing commander of the Demon Hunting Bureau.

If Wen Xiao didn’t know better, she’d have thought that the great demon had some trick up his sleeve.

And when he finally emerged from the room all dressed up, the thought had stuck in the backs of her teeth. Even if the first thing that slipped off her lips was an awed, “Are you sure you weren’t born a succubus?”

Zhao Yuanzhou tittered at that.

Wen Xiao was sure that she had seen it all when it come to this strange mating dance between her old friend and the great demon — the little trinkets the demon likes to leave for Xiao Zhuo, the small teasings that were just as earnest as the quiet promises, or the lingering touches in battle that Wen Xiao isn’t even sure they both were aware they were doing.

All that and more, yet none of it could prepare her for the way Xiao Zhuo stood absolutely stock still at the sight of Zhao Yuanzhou veiled and dressed in the finest courtesan silk they could procure at such short notice. Pale fabric trails behind him as he walks right up to Xiao Zhuo and the in the weak autumn sunlight, Zhao Yuanzhou peers up with smiling eyes.

"Do I look pretty, Xiao Zhuo-daren?"

It takes a strong woman to resist the temptation to smack her brow when Xiao Zhuo promptly blushed a distinct shade of red at the way Zhao Yuanzhou eased his body against his own.

Certainly, even Wen Xiao herself isn't immune to pretty things, but the very obvious way that Xiao Zhuo is gawking and sputtering at the great demon proves that he is the right man for the job.

"If the two of you are very much done trying to commit acts of indecency in front of a child, let's get this show on the road." Wen Xiao delicately coughs into her hand, shaking her head at how Ying Lei's efforts to cover Xiao Jiu's eyes are met with the boy-genius whining that he has seen much worse than two people flirting, why thank you very much.

Taking Pei-daren by the hand, she leads their merry band of misfits out to the waiting carriage. But not before spying on the gentle softening of Zhao Yuanzhou's gaze and Xiao Zhuo's answering tilt of his head. There's a quick touch from the demon to Xiao Zhuo's wrist. Barely there before he is walking ahead and Xiao Zhuo is following behind with pursed lips and a determined grip to his sword.

Wen Xiao calculates the risk that there'll be some lecherous fool losing a finger or two tonight if they get too handsy with a certain commander's demon. Internally strategizing, she factors in the need to keep their Xiao Zhuo-daren calm and as un-murderous as possible when Zhao Yuanzhou inevitably flirts his way too close to the sun.

Honestly.

Was the great demon part nine-tailed fox or something?

#zhao yuanzhou #wen xiao #fangs of fortune #fangs of fortune fic #gab writes stuff #yuanyi #zhuo yichen

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mencantaleer · 8 months ago

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tangerine smut attempt

Possible bullet train spoiler

Alternate line where tangerine does not die.

Set after beating white death.

Synopsis: Just the reader taking care of her boy after he comes back from a complicated day.

Female reader over 18 years old, 2797 words. mdni!

Warnings : rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), submissive reader, degradation (whore, slut), compliments, mild humiliation, a little tangerine fluff.

I really wanted to write about ATJ but after seeing bulleta train I was tempted to write about Tangerine, I'm not an expert in writing so if there are mistakes or suggestions I'm open to hear them (as long as they are respectful).

I finished writing it at 3 a.m. so I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes, my English is very basic so I tried to translate it the best way I could.

I hope you like it <3, enjoy.

Since you are tangerine's girlfriend you are used to see him coming home with a body full of wounds due to his “work”, you are tired of that although you also find it exciting to see your man full of blood and with a stress that you know you will help to relieve. You love to be fucked hard by Tangerine after every assignment but you are not willing to risk losing him, the train incident reminded you of how fragile life is, that same train where you met him and although you were ready to kill him the fact that they were trapped in the bathroom changed your perspective (you still blush remembering what happened in that cubicle) and how after that he spared your life, a favor that you would return by saving his by pushing him to the ground to deflect the bullet that the fool carter had fired.

Luego de esta situación entablaste una relación de amigos con derechos que se vio opacada por los celos de Mandarina que al ver que un chico te cortejaba no dudó en pedirte que hicieran oficial lo que tenían, lo cual aceptaste sin dudar.

And now we're back here again as you choose lingerie since your boyfriend's wild one ended up breaking the most you had, you look all over the store until you notice a black lace set with floral details, the straps are thin and form a criss-cross design in the center of the chest, adding a sensual touch. The bottom is also lace, with straps extending from the sides, crisscrossing along the abdomen, exposing much of the skin. It's simply perfect, without wasting any more time, you pay for it and head back home until the sound of an incoming call from Tangerine appears on your cell phone screen.

Her voice sounds frazzled but calm

“Hey, it's me, are you busy?” -Tangerine lets out an exhausted sigh.

“No, is something wrong love?"-you reply.

“Nothing, just… you know how it is. Jobs, beatings, all that stuff that always comes along.”

“Do you need me to pick you up? Are you in danger?"-you murmur as the worry rises in you.

“No, no, it's nothing like that. I've had a heavy and tiring day. I think the best thing would be to relax at home with a shower and a drink, and if it's possible to spend some time with you, that would be the best thing that could happen to me today.”

“I understand, don't worry about anything but getting to the apartment alive, I'll take care of the rest” you said as you hurried to get everything ready for her evening.

Tangerine let out a relaxed laugh at your concern, which made her tired body feel slightly rejuvenated.

“I'll be there alive, I promise. Just wait a bit, in 30 minutes it'll be there, I love you, it didn't take long.”

And with that, Tangerine hung up the call and prepared to go home while you went into a kind of crisis trying to make everything perfect for your reunion with him. A quarter of an hour later, you heard a light knock on the apartment door.

“I'm coming,” you said as you hurried down the stairs, before opening the door, you arranged your coat in such a way that it didn't show what you were wearing.

Finally, you opened the door and turned your head, finding your boy there.

-Hi honey,” his tone was agitated.

His tired gaze meets your loving gaze, and despite the exhaustion, a small but tender smile forms on his face. He looked exhausted, his suit was wrinkled, and some dried blood stains decorated his face and cheeks. But still, he was there, standing before you, with what little he had, despite having had an exhausting and violent day. He stood there for a few seconds in silence, just looking at you and enjoying your presence after a long and exhausting day. Finally he spoke, his voice calm and exhausted.

“May I come in?”

“Of course I do"-you reply as you step aside so I can pass.

Tangerine crosses the threshold with heavy, exhausted steps and leans against the door as she closes it with an exhausted sigh. Her gaze briefly meets yours and she silently thanks you for your understanding and support. Finally, he forces himself to straighten up and walk slowly into the apartment, looking for a place to sit down and relax at last.

Let's go to our room, you'll be more comfortable there- you mentioned while you took him to your room, you immediately discarded the idea of sharing a dinner together, maybe another time, now all your boy needed was love and to forget about what he had done.

Tangerine moved quietly and allowed you to escort him to the room, keeping slow and heavy steps because of the exhaustion he felt. When he reached the room, he allowed you to go ahead of him to finally sit on the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh as he slumped his shoulders and rubbed his face with his hands.

“I'll prepare the bathtub with special salts for you to relax” you offered as you sat down beside her to caress her face.

Tangerine is grateful for the consideration of the prepared bathtub and while she appreciates the intention, she is reluctant to allow herself to be pampered, maintaining a façade of toughness and reserve in the face of her emotional and physical wounds. However, his efforts to maintain that facade are visible to your perceptive gaze, knowing deep down that he actually longs for that moment of relaxation and pampering.

“You don't have to bother with me…” he says as he watches you deeply….

“I don't mind taking care of you love, I just want to make you forget about today” you whispered to her.

Although Tangerine tried to hide it, it was quite obvious that what she wanted most was to feel your love and care at that moment. Even though she tried to keep her feelings at bay and show toughness, there was an undertone of vulnerability in her exhausted look. Although his facade might have suggested that he didn't want to be coddled, he actually craved to feel your support and affection in the midst of that exhausting and injury-ridden day he'd had.And if you wanted Tan to leave that life before now you were more than determined to convince him, it tore you apart to see him so haggard.

“How can I help you Tan?” -you asked as you watched him sit up to sit on his bed.

-“The only thing I need right now is you, help me forget about today,” says Tangerine as you feel his lustful gaze on you, at the same time he starts to fill your neck with wet kisses.

“I thought the evil cockroach would finally talk to me about his feelings"- you say while smirking at the same time you straddle him.

“Come on honey you really thought I would talk to you about how I feel dressed like that, don't think I didn't notice you wearing lingerie under that coat"- he said while kissing you all the time.

“How did you notice?” you asked as you felt your skin bristle at the contact of his mouth against your collarbone.

Tangerine let out a weak exhausted laugh at your question. Though she was trying to maintain her facade of serenity, an amused and exhausted smile forms on her face at the obviousness of your question.

“Not that it was too hard to deduce, honey…. I could tell by the way you moved when you entered the apartment, plus the way the coat contracted in some specific areas, even though you tried to be discreet, it was very obvious to me…”

And what are you going to do now that you know? -you moaned as you felt the bulge that had already formed in your boy's pants.

The first thing I have to do is ask you if you want me to go on because tonight I'm not exactly going to be gentle,” you could tell how desperate he was to claim you as his own.

I never asked you to be gentle,” your voice was full of nothing but desire.

And that was all Tangerine needed to finally get rid of your cumbersome coat, being stunned at the sight of what you were wearing

“you're fucking gorgeous honey” he murmured as he kept looking at you.

“do you like it, why I picked it out with you in mind” you said as you started to move over his bulge.

“It's amazing.. And… I can't deny that… it turns me on so much…” he said as he started to run his fingers over your skin

“Use me as you please, today I just want to help you let off some steam” You moaned as you felt Tan's fingers pinch your nipples.

His voice fills with a more dominant edge, an acknowledgement of dominance at the proximity of your bodies. “I'm going to use you for what you are, my plaything, my whore” he adds with greater concentration, as he tugs at your panties ripping them in the process.

“Only yours… all yours…” you roll your eyes as you feel her fingers moving inside you.

Tangerine watches your eyes, as you close them in excitement, she moves one of her hands to your neck and squeezes, keeping control of the situation. “You want that, don't you?” she adds with concentration, keeping her fingers moving and bringing you closer to orgasm. ‘You want me to treat you like a whore…is that what you want?’ she adds, keeping concentration and hardness in her voice, ”Of course you like it, I can feel it by the way you squeeze my fingers dirty slut.”

You frowned at the cluster of sensations and then nodded, “Yes, yes I like you treating me like your whore, go on please.”

He rubbed your clit in slow circles, feeling you squirm at his touch. “You like that don't you, it makes you horny when I talk dirty to you” he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. “I can feel how wet you are for me.”

He slid a finger inside you, feeling your walls clench around it. He slid it in and out, gradually adding another and then another, opening you up. “Fuck, you're so tight,” he moaned, his cock aching at the erection you were causing him with your moans. “I love the way you feel around my fingers.”

Tangerine curved her fingers, searching for your G-spot that would make you see stars. She found it, and knew she had you right where she wanted you. “Cum for me, baby,” she commanded, her voice strained with pleasure. “I want to feel you come apart around my fingers.”

“So keep going please” you begged as you felt yourself about to come.

He continued to touch you mercilessly, pressing your clit with his thumb as he fucked you with his hand. He could feel your body tense, your moans as you approached climax. “That's it, let yourself go for me,” he urged. “Cum all over my fingers and I promise I'll fill you up all over your holes today.”

That was all you needed to finally cum on him, you could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your juices coating his hand as you cum hard, just as he had commanded.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he gasped, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. “You're amazing, baby.”

“I told you I would be there to please you today,and I don't break my promise,“ you mentioned as you knelt before him-”May I suck you sir?”

Tangerine felt a shiver run down her spine as she heard your request. She couldn't believe how insatiable you were, but she enjoyed every moment of it. He unbuttoned and pulled down his pants to make it easier for you, his cock bounced in front of your face, he was hard and ready for you. “You want to taste me, baby? I'm all yours,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

He watched you as with your hands you reached for his cock.

“Fuck, you look so sexy like that,” he growled, his eyes fixed on your face. “I can't wait to feel those lips around me.”

Tangerine placed her hand on the back of your head, guiding you closer to his cock. He could feel your warm breath on his sensitive skin, and it made him throb with anticipation. “Take it easy, baby,” he instructed, his voice strained with desire. “I want to savor every moment.”

When your lips closed around his penis, he let out a low moan, his fingers tangling in your hair. “That's it, take me deep,” he encouraged you, moving his hips slightly forward as he rammed into your mouth. “You're doing great, baby. Fuck, you feel amazing.”

Tangerine lost herself in the sensations, closed her eyes as she concentrated on the feel of your mouth around her. She could feel her orgasm approaching and knew it wouldn't be long before she would cum in your throat. “I'm going to cum, baby,” he warned, his voice strained with pleasure. “Swallow it all for me, like a good girl.”

With one last lunge, Tangerine unloaded, his cock throbbing as he shot his hot seed down your throat, droplets of cum falling onto your tits.

“Fuck Tan that was so good"- you mumbled as you dropped onto the bed trying to steady your breathing.

“We're not done yet Principessa. I still have so much more in store for you. “Tangerine stood up still.

“You fucking bastard, you're insatiable” you said with a smirk.

-Don't talk to me like that or I'll have to fuck you until you beg for forgiveness, love.

“Surely you can, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you for all that effort old man?”

Tangerine could sense the teasing in your voice, and that only made him more determined to please you. He gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your soft skin as he proceeded to ram into you with renewed vigor. “You think I can't continue? I'll give you more, see if that changes your perspective,” she growled, her eyes locked on yours.

Tangerine rammed deeper and harder, his balls slapping against your ass with every movement, creating obscene sounds. “I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight. “She could feel her own orgasm building, but refused to let you go until you begged her to cum.

“Fuck, you're so close,” she gasped, her rhythm becoming erratic. “But I won't let you cum until you scream my name and beg me to let you do it.”

“Mhmmm” you moaned unable to control yourself.

“Words baby, use words if you want to cum or I am capable of leaving you like this” he threatens and you know that the very idiot is capable of following through with what he says

“Please love, I need you so much” you cried out, your voice full of desire. “I can't take it anymore.” “I need to cum, please Tan, let me cum.”

With one last thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could, rubbing his hips against yours. “Now, baby,” he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure. “Cum for me now.” His cock throbbed as he cum deep inside you. He could feel your walls clench around him, your juices mingling with his as you cum hard, just as he had commanded.

As he felt your walls close around him, he let out a guttural moan, and soon after he released. He filled you with his hot seed, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm.

“Fuck, that was fantastic,” he gasped, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you on the bed.

“I hope I helped de-stress you” you say while still catching your breath.

“You did very well, accepting everything I gave you,” he murmured. “You know,” he began, his fingers gently caressing your cheek, ”when I look at you, I feel like the luckiest person in the world, everything about you captivates me in a way I've never experienced before.”

He leaned over and gave you a tender kiss on your forehead. “I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You bring out a side of me that I never knew existed, a side full of love and devotion.” “I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I know what we have is special. You have shown me what it means, I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too tangerine” you replied as you snuggled into his side before you both fell asleep.

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aardvaark · 3 months ago

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leverage rewatch: s1e3 "the wedding job"

to be clear i’m following the intended order rather than the airing order.

i like the idea that sophie is maintaining a cover but the friends she makes are being wronged by the mob. like she really cannot escape Crime World!

parker teaching the client’s daughter to pick locks is still so funny. i love all of their reactions to it, too. everyone’s kinda in disbelief/shocked and nate is just watching like "i mean, that tracks… why would you let parker be alone with a kid if you didn’t want the kid to learn lock picking".

"do you have any idea how hard it it to wait for someone?" (- sophie to nate). aw soph </3 she’s very serious too, might be a little for manipulation but she’s also saying something a bit more raw and true than we tend to get from her this early on.

the first parker & hardison fbi agent con, and first episode with the two recurring fbi agents!!

hardison: punch somebody! / eliot: oh, i’m gonna punch somebody. // lmaoooooo

parker suggesting "we could tunnel from the neighbours" - i don’t think ive appreciated how funny that is before lol. and now im wondering if she’s actually done that.

first mention of eliot being good at cooking (and abandoning his actual heist-related tasks to prepare food)

this ep is probably the one with the strongest "never dated but also somehow divorced" vibe from nate and sophie. she’s offended by him being very un-romantic and he looks like he feels a bit bad about that, which is kinda funny when you remember that they’re not in a relationship and have never been in a relationship. obviously from how they interact, it’s clear they’re both interested in each other and they’re in this odd space where they’re not dating but are pretty clearly not going to date anyone else. i guess it’s just like sophie said, she’s been waiting for him, and he knows that.

it always gets me how the mother of the bride is wearing a white dress that could very easily be used as a wedding dress. eeeevil.

"is this about fear of the russian mob or fear of intimacy?" is probably one of sophie’s funniest lines ever lmao. this episode in general is probably the most comedy-heavy of season one, it’s always a fun rewatch.

i know eliot didn’t actually kill that guy (with an appetizer) but it’s interesting that in these early episodes, the show doesn’t really seem to care much about eliot not killing people.

parker and hardison are so adorable in this episode <333 when he says how beautiful she looks in the silly bridesmaid dress. when her improvised lie for why she’s in the screaming room is that she was gonna meet hardison(‘s grift alias) to have sex. parker telling hardison that little fact and his reaction is very funny.

eliot cooking for everyone!! eliot would hate me for the "pasta" i made before watching this episode lol. it’s two minute noodles (water drained out & seasoning not added) + diced tomato + lemon juice + tuna + pepper + off-the-shelf spice mix (with chilli powder so it’s spicy). which is basically gourmet cooking when you’re a uni student sooooo.

#leverageposting #leverage #lvgwatch25 #the wedding job

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robinsegghead · 1 year ago

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Danny's Daycare Part 8

[Master List]

“And that’s pretty much it.” Danny ended their tour in his office. “Any questions?”

Duke shook his head. “I’m excited to start.”

Danny showed him back out into the main area filled with kids which Mia and Ember had been taking care of while Duke learned about the daycare, the schedule, and what was expected of him. It seemed pretty simple- though he knew kids would always create unpredictable problems, but the job itself would be fine. The things he did for Tim.

“Finally!” Mia shouted, picking up a crying kid beside her and carrying her towards Danny and Duke. “Clara’s been asking for you for a while!” She passed the crying blonde child off to Danny before pointing back towards the kids. “C’mon Duke, the kids are coloring for now.”

They left Danny to handle Clara’s tantrum and watch the rest of the kids. Duke settled down next to a group of five kids, all coloring different pictures of Gotham vigilantes. He settled next to a little blonde girl who was coloring a picture of Robin with only shades of purple.

“Whatcha coloring?” He asked.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, assessing. “Robin.”

“That’s cool- why’s he purple?”

The girl sighed dramatically, like Duke had asked a stupid question. Apparently he had because nothing would have prepared him for the lecture he was about to get. “Not him- her. Robin was a girl and she was the coolest Robin ever! How can you not know that? Everyone knows that girl Robin is the coolest one! But since she’s gone, Spoiler's my favorite! So I thought- how cool would it be if girl Robin and Spoiler were the same person and now I’m coloring robin purple!”

“Oh.” Duke managed to respond.

“Boys.” She sighed, rolling her eyes and turning back to her coloring project.

He’d have to tell Steph about her little fan the next time he saw her. “Spoiler’s one of my favorites too.” He offers, hoping she’ll un-shun him.

It works, she turns back with excitement on her face. “She’s so cool! I wanna be just like her when I get older!”

The day went by quickly. Mia left much earlier than Duke did so the last three hours of his shift were just him and Danny and the kids. Somebody named Ember popped in briefly in the evening to drop off food for Danny and Duke. Her aura was… strange- but not as strange as Danny’s.

When Duke first met Danny he didn’t know what to think. No one had ever been as… bright as Danny. Duke figured he was some kind of meta and filed away the information for later. After meeting Ember, however briefly, he wasn’t so sure anymore. She was the same as Danny. They kind of… glowed and it was so similar- like how Clark, Connor, and Jon all had a similar aura. If that was true, then Danny and Ember were likely aliens.

He hadn’t told Tim that yet.

Tim had been busy lately and if Duke hadn’t taken this task off his hands we would be even busier. Truth be told, Duke didn’t understand Tim’s fascination with Danny. Sure, it was strange that someone willingly moved to Gotham and chose to use their, apparently very large, inheritance to help the people of a city they weren’t even from as a favor to someone else, but if Duke couldn’t believe in the goodness in people then what could he believe in?

Besides, there was no proof that Danny was doing anything nefarious. None of the kids had gone missing, he didn’t have any strange or large sums of money being added to any of his accounts, nothing seemed amiss. So Duke agreed to apply for a job at the daycare and keep an eye on the situation for the summer. Just to make sure Danny really was a good guy.

Spending more time with Mia was a plus. With school and his extracurriculars Duke hardly had time to hang out with any of his non-family friends. Tim definitely owed him one for giving up his summer vacation to work at the daycare.

“Thanks for all your hard work today, Duke.” Danny approached having just sent the last kid off with their parents. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Duke nodded, putting away the books he had in hand. “You need any help cleaning up?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve got a couple of guys who will be here shortly to help me clean the place up.” Danny smiled softly.

Did he have a cleaning crew? If so, why did he seem so happy about it? “Cleaning crew?” Duke asked nonchalantly.

Shaking his head, Danny fell back into a rolling desk chair that had been brought out earlier in the day. “Just a couple of street kids who need some money and won’t let me give it to them without doing something to ‘earn it’ so…” Danny closed his eyes, slouching in the chair, and rested his head against the backrest. “I’ll let them work for an hour or so, overpay them, and get out of here.”

That was… not exactly what Duke had expected. Just one more thing he could use to prove Danny was a good guy and get Tim off his back about this whole ordeal. Maybe he’d even convince Tim to take a day off. That was probably hoping for too much.

“Well, have a good night, Danny.” Duke waved, grabbed his things, and left. There was still a bit of daylight but despite originally planning on going out as Signal, he’d decided against it. Kids were exhausting.

How Danny managed to run the daycare every day for twelve hours without passing out from exhaustion was beyond Duke.

~~~

Danny was exhausted.

Along with the Daycare, taking care of Miguel and Santiago, and his usual Kingly duties, Clockwork had been on his ass recently. Something about taking his job more seriously- what part of doing a favor for a prominent city spirit wasn’t taking his job seriously? Apparently Danny was also supposed to find and appoint his own Fright Knight- which would have been awesome to know a long time ago but whatever-

Could he just get ONE night of sleep? Please.

He’d canceled on his friends for three weeks straight, unable to find the time or energy to even video call and catch up. They’d started asking if he was okay, Jazz had started threatening to show up and force him to rest but she had her hands full between school and her internship so he wasn’t convinced she’d actually do anything.

Duke had been great, having the extra help at the daycare was really great and the days he didn’t work were much more difficult. Ember had agreed to come back regularly on Tuesdays and Thursdays for a little while, but she really wanted to get back to touring and playing music and he couldn’t really fault her for that.

It was the Thursday night after Duke’s first day when she showed up.

“Danny- how the hell am I supposed to know this?” Miguel groaned.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid.” Danny called back, serving the steaming bowls of paprikash. Dani got lots of souvenirs from her travels and while Danny had certainly not thought he’d ever need to use the recipes, he was grateful for them now.

There was a shuffling sound and only a moment later Danny found Miguel standing beside him, pointing at a chemistry equation. “This. This is bullshit!”

Sensing Miguel’s rising frustration, Danny tried to placate him. “How about we take a break from studying for dinner? Afterwards I can explain it to you and anything else you’re confused about.”

“Except English.” Santiago muttered bitterly.

In the short time Danny had known the boys he’d learned a lot about their learning styles, their strong suits, what they liked and disliked, and what kind of smart they were. Santiago was a lot like Danny, scientifically minded- Danny had already caught him taking apart the toaster and the TV just to figure out how they worked. Which meant, while catching him up on STEM classes was relatively easy, they struggled much more with the arts.

Miguel, on the other hand, was competent. He was street smart. Although he wasn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination, he struggled with learning anything from a book. Despite all of that, he really tried. He’d been keeping up with the worksheets Danny had gotten him and helped Santiago with anything he could, but he hated it and it showed.

Suffice it to say, the boys were struggling- all three of them.

“Dinner. Then we can figure it out.” Danny repeated, placing down the bowls and grabbing drinks.

Miguel left briefly to feed the cats, before joining them at the table.

“You know,” Danny started casually. “I was thinking about the cats.” Miguel tensed up. “It’s a lot of cats in my small apartment and I’m gone all day. I was thinking- if you had wanted- that you boys could have one of them.”

Like always, Danny spoke casually. He’d learned quickly that they didn’t respond well when Danny spoke too decisively. It was like they thought he was trying to tell them what to do, so in general, he made sure it was clear that he was only suggesting ideas.

He also knew that Miguel had taken a liking to the cats- especially Curiosity, and he wanted to find a way to give Miguel stability.

“You…” Miguel swallowed. “You mean it? Really?”

Danny nodded. “Of course. We can go shopping for everything this weekend. You remember Damian- from the mall?” Miguel nodded, confused. “He taught me everything I’d need to know about owning cats. I’ll give him a call and see if he’d be willing to come over and teach you what he knows.”

Santiago opened his mouth but was cut off by a rapid knocking on Danny’s front door. The three exchanged looks, no one really sure who it could be but all prepared for the worst because of their upbringing.

“Probably a neighbor or something.” Danny shrugged, hiding his own concerns as he moved away from the dining room towards the front door. Technically, they did have one neighbor on the floor in the apartment across from Danny’s and next to the boys but they kept to themselves. It was not likely to be the neighbor.

He didn’t see anyone when he looked through the peephole, saw nothing, and opened the door slowly.

“BOO!” A voice shouted only moments before a girl appeared out of thin air and lunged at him. Danny grabbed an outstretched hand, spun the body around, and slammed it into the nearest wall. “OW! Ancients dammit, Danny!” She shouted, phasing out of his grip.

“Dani?”

“Holy shit, Danny, that was badass! Maybe try not to slam me so hard next time though?” She chided goodnaturedly.

He let out a deep breath, calming his racing heart (Racing being a relative term because it was probably only beating as fast as a normal completely living human heart would). “Ancients fuck Dani, don’t do that!”

“Danny?” Miguel’s wary voice sounded.

Dragging his sister towards where he’d left the boys, Danny composed himself. “Sorry guys, this is my sister- Dani.”

“Danny?” Santiago squinted.

He shook his head. “She’s Dani with an ‘i’ and I’m Danny with a ‘y’. I know, it’s confusing. Dani, this is Miguel and Santiago.” Danny gave his sister a pointed look. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a bowl.

Dani plopped into the seat across from Santiago and waited for Danny to deliver the food. “So this is why you’ve been so busy?”

Returning with the food, Danny rolled his eyes. “No, I have been busy with everything else. Miguel and Santiago take up barely any of my time and I like having them around.”

“You two ever seen this man sleep?” She asked conspiratorially. They shook their heads slowly, looking between Danny and Dani. “Exactly. He’s been neglecting sleeping and eating because he’s a moron!”

“Dani.” All eyes landed on Danny who was rubbing a tired hand down his face. “I’ve been sleeping and eating- can we move on to why you’re here?”

Taking a big bite of food, Dani rolled her eyes. “Can’t a sister visit her brother?” She pointed at him and looked at the boys. “Can you believe this guy? Don’t ever treat your little brother as badly as Danny treats me, you hear?” She directed at Miguel who nodded in confusion.

Danny smacked his sister’s leg, which she’d propped up on his chair, and took his seat again. “I treat you just fine! You just don’t drop by that often- it’s been nine months since I saw you in person last and that was because you needed a favor!”

Dani cackled, shoveling down the food quickly and kicking her feet up onto her brothers’ lap. He rolled his eyes but let them remain as he finished his own food.

“I didn’t know you had another sister.” Santiago observed.

“You don’t talk about me? I’m hurt!” She gasped mockingly.

Miguel brought his and his brothers’ bowls to the sink and started washing them while everyone else chatted. “Miguel- I’ll do the dishes, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s fine, I’m almost done already.” It was just two bowls and spoons after all, but Danny still didn’t want them to do dishes when he’d cooked the meal. He wanted them to focus on school and making friends and forget about everything else- at least while they were at his apartment.

Santiago squinted between the two of them. “You look really similar.” He noted, suspiciously.

Danny offered a nonchalant shrug. “We’re siblings.”

“So’s Jazz but you two look nothing alike!” He exclaimed.

Miguel put a hang on his brother’s shoulder calmingly. “I think we’ll just head back to ours for the night.” He glanced at Dani a bit uncomfortably.

“If that’s what you guys want, but you don’t have to. I promise she won't bite- probably.” Danny chuckled.

The older boy shook his head. “We’ll let you two catch up and come back to do more school stuff tomorrow- if that’s all right?” Danny nodded and the boys left quickly.

“Awwww- I wanted to get to know your kids!” Dani pouted.

He sighed, grabbing his and his sister’s plates and carrying them to the kitchen sink. “Miguel’s pretty skittish- you scared him off. Not your fault really, but he doesn’t like new people, a skill that has kept him and his brother alive for the last three years.” Drying his hands on a towel, Danny leaned against the counter facing his sister and met her eyes. “But you didn’t come here for that, you didn’t even know about them. So what brought you here?”

She looked at the cup of water he’d given her and fidgeted with the condensation on the glass. Sheepishly, she looked at him before looking away again. Gathering her courage it seemed. “I… I want to get my GED… and go to GU.”

Although it seemed out of left field, Danny schooled his expression. She was always more in tune with emotions than even he was (whether that was because he’d been human before becoming a halfa and she’d only ever known life as a halfa or just because that was her personality, he didn’t know) and he knew that his opinion meant something to her- even if she pretended it didn’t.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She squinted.

“Well,” He sat across from her, hands on the table. “Are you just telling me that, or are you asking for my help?”

“Don’t make me say it.” She groaned.

With a smirk, he shook his head. “Okay, so you want my help?” She didn’t respond and he took that as a yes. “You can join the boys and I when we work on school stuff, I can help with getting your GED and putting together the application to GU as soon as that’s done. Do you need a place to stay?”

She wrinkled her face. “I’m not living with you.”

“Hey! I resent that! Besides, I own this building and most of it’s just empty apartments.”

Dani’s eyes widened. “Are you offering me an apartment?”

“Are you asking for an apartment?” He challenged, smirk on his face once again.

“I swear this is why everyone likes me better- I’m literally the better version of you!” She shouted, landing her forehead on the table and groaning at her brother’s silence. He remained silent while she continued to avoid looking at him. They were at a stalemate.

“Fine!” She shouted. “Can I have one of your apartments?”

He tilted his head to show he was still waiting for something.

“...Please?” She gritted out.

It was going to be nice having his sister around more often.

~~~

Turns out, tutoring kids who haven’t been in school for three years and one who has never been in school was a lot harder than Danny had anticipated. He didn’t know how to teach certain subjects (curse the arts) and was struggling to get Miguel and Dani to understand what he was saying when it came to math and sciences. He’d finally had the brilliant idea to go to the library and pick up a bunch more books.

Danny had left a clone to finish up at the daycare for the last couple of hours and made his way to the library. He’d need a couple of textbooks, a GED study book that was highly recommended, and a bunch of different literature books. Probably. He thought. Who knew really? He certainly didn’t.

He noted the library was pretty empty, the only patron was leaning over the front counter talking to the front desk girl. Danny didn’t pay them much mind as he moved throughout the library collecting books- though he was sure he felt their eyes on him any time he passed by the front desk.

Eventually, he had a stack of books that would keep his three ‘students’ busy for a while. Hopefully a long while, he was kind of out of ideas after this round of books.

Dropping them onto the front desk, the side opposite where the man was still standing, Danny sighed.

“That’s quite the collection.” The man noted.

Finally, Danny actually looked at the man. He hadn’t been expecting the most beautiful man he’d ever seen to be casually checking out his stack of books. He had short black hair that was slightly longer at the top with a shock of white right at the center of his forehead. His eyes were blue with a hint of green around the edges and he was built like a brick house.

He was wearing a red t-shirt, brown leather jacket that hugged his body nicely, and tight black pants which Danny refused to see how they hugged him.

With a shrug, Danny leaned against the counter, the front desk girl nowhere to be seen. “Yeah, they’re not for me.”

“Who’re they for?” The man asked casually.

“I’m helping a couple of kids get back on track in school but they haven’t gone in three years so there’s a lot to catch up on. I’ll admit,” Danny chuckled. “I’m only really built for STEM… the English side of things is… not my forte.”

The man nodded slowly. “Yeah you’ve got quite a collection of works there.” There was amusement in his voice.

Groaning, Danny rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m just going to have to hire a tutor in Literature or something. I barely have the time to teach what I know- I almost failed literature in high school.”

The man -Danny really needed to get his name- watched Danny closely for a moment. “Who are these kids to you? Why do you have to get them into school?”

“I said I would.” Danny shrugged.

“They family? Friends of yours?” The man probed.

Danny shook his head. “Just a couple of street kids who needed help and were willing to let me give it.”

The man squinted. “So you’re trying to help a couple of kids you barely know?” Danny nodded slowly, unsure if the man was judging him or not. “Well, if they get in- great. But if they don’t- at least you tried, right?”

Something about the way he said it set Danny on edge. “Excuse me?”

“They’re just some street kids, who cares, right?”

“What the fucks that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, voice rising. He didn’t give the man a chance to answer, anger already overflowing. “I promised I’d help them cause I have the means so I’m going to. And the reason Gotham’s such a shithole is because of people like you who think the homeless population are worthless good-for-nothings instead of the intelligent and down-on-their-luck people I know they are. Ancients- this whole city is fucked!”

The man began chuckling, setting off Danny’s anger even more. “What are you laughing about now, asshole?”

Offering a genuine smile that took Danny completely off guard, the man offered him a hand to shake. “I’m Jason, former street kid, it’s nice to meet someone who actually cares.”

Stupefied and completely confused, Danny shook his hand without meaning to. “Danny- did you say all of that shit to test me or something?”

The man- Jason- shrugged. “Had to make sure you weren’t some kind of creep.”

“What the fuck?” Danny breathed trying to reign in the anger he’d let seep out before (he had years worth of repressed rage and nowhere to put it, he’d thought he might finally have someone to unleash the anger on).

“Well, if I haven’t completely scared you off with that little stunt,” Jason smirked, grabbing one of those flower pens libraries always seemed to have and scribbled something down. “Literature was my best subject in high school. I’d be more than happy to help you tutor a couple of street kids in need.”

Jason slid the piece of paper to Danny. It was a phone number. People were giving him their number a lot recently- what was that about? As a teenager Danny could count on two hands how many contacts he had in his phone, after… the incident, he could count on one hand how many contacts he had. After moving to Gotham he’d slowly begun collecting numbers from apparently the entire city.

“What was that yelling about?” A woman’s voice cut through the silence Danny hadn’t realized was there.

Waving his hand casually, Jason smiled. “Just me being an asshole and Danny here defending his people. I’ll see you at brunch?” He directed the question at the red headed librarian who nodded suspiciously. “Nice to meet you Danny, think about my offer.”

He didn’t mean to track Jason’s movements as he left but he couldn’t help it. He also didn’t realize he was doing it until the librarian cleared her throat. “Ah, right, sorry.” Danny pushed the books towards her sheepishly.

She began scanning the books, typing something in the computer between each one. “Danny was it?” He nodded. “I’m Barbara, sorry about Jason, he can really get under people’s skin if he wants to.”

“Nah he’s fine.” Danny sighed. “I probably would have done the same thing.”

She eyed him curiously. “What did he do?”

“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t some asshole who was just using some street kids I’m helping.” He paused, offering his library card to Barbara. “I’m not- for the record. Just trying to help them get into school again.”

Barbara bagged up his books during his explanation. When he was finished she handed him the bag. “Jason really is one of the smartest people I know- if you’re considering letting him help you with that…. You won’t be sorry.”

He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to accept the stranger’s help. “I’ll think about it, thanks.”

~~~

When Danny left the library Babs immediately pulled out her phone and texted Jason. She hadn’t seen him smile like that since before he’d died, there was no world in which she let him let Danny get away. Whether that boy knew it or not, he was going to be a part of the family. It was like fate- he even looked the part, black hair, blue eyes, completely exhausted, going out of his way to help people he barely knew- he was perfect.

Now to strategize getting them together- she’d need Dick’s help. He’d be more than excited for the task at hand.

If she closed the library a little early in order to find everything she can on Danny Nightingale- the man Tim had been low-key convinced would become a rogue and had begun obsessing over for the past couple of months- and find a way to orchestrate is integration into the family then who could blame her?

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#fanfiction #danny phantom #danny phantom/jason todd #danny's daycare #dp x dc #dead on main #jason todd #barbara gordon #dani phantom

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maritotoy · 1 year ago

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MAUGA X Support/Medic Reader ((Part. 1))

NOTE: Believe it or not, I never realize how long I've written this one.

This narrative tracks Mauga's obsession with Y/N as it grows to the point where he is prepared to kill everyone who stands in his way. With this in mind, Mauga's commitment would gradually grow. He would start out softly and then this need on you would get stronger.

It all began when your talents were initially utilised for recruitment. You were a terrific help, willing to assist your teammates in whatever way they needed.

Your main issue was that you could never truly let them handle things on their own. As a result, it became increasingly difficult to care for yourself.

They promised you riches if you helped them fight back against their threat. There were only so many ways to profit from rival worlds, after all. You were aware that you were going into a whole new universe when you agreed, but you also felt that you had no choice but to accept them.

Ultimately, you didn't wish to pass away, did you?

It was stated to you when you first joined TALON Organization, that you should concentrate only on the battlefield. Up until you met Baptiste, an exceptional combat medic, it was great with you. Your shared enthusiasm for curing illness is what unites the two of you. It turned into a shared passion. As you try to acquire experience in several areas, like medical supplies, you both hope to discover some more useful abilities, like healing or even a unique kind of combat capability.

But you can hardly ever get to Baptiste, he's constantly at the top. Both a combat mercenary and medic. You're always looking for ways to sharpen your skills.

Even after meeting him again at your base and on missions, you are still determined to improve your ability to deal with any possible emergencies. Not until later do you find out what happens when a member of your unit gets injured.

Baptiste surged in, carrying an imposing stature and a solid, muscular frame. His voice sounded desperate, asking, "I'm sorry if I came to you! I know you are busy, but I need help with my friend, please, Y/N!" The urgency was so obvious that there wasn't much resistance. Even if he was a doctor himself, it must have seemed urgent enough.

Besides... You were in the right place to help.

You rushed over to his side and helped him stabilize his huge friend. "What happened, Bap? Are you hurt?" He didn't reply, but his eyes told you all you needed to know.

You fix your sight on his pal. He does not appear to be hurt or seriously damage. However, the man's body is completely soaked, which looks very suspicious to you. "Is he alright, Bap? I don't see anything wrong." He shook his head and gave a sigh.

"We were attacked. Mauga and I found the source of the enemy attack and got separated."

"How long has it been since then?"

"Four hours, maybe five."

"Do you have any idea of what may have caused the damage?"

"I'm not sure. However, I had already discovered him unconscious but unharmed on the ground. It should not take long for him to awaken.." You glance at the unconscious man again before you say, "Let me take a look at him." He nodded and stepped aside.

"Mauga could never be wounded by shots like that. Despite his size, he could easily absorb one hit thanks to his physique." He explains.

You crouch down and check on his comrade. He seems fine to you. There's nothing unusual about him, other than the fact that he's a bit too heavy.

You knew Mauga.

And with such.

You just don't know how to engage with him.

On a conversation? Yes. Your profession is your duty.

You don’t really get along with those who rely solely on themselves as an advantage, even though you respect their abilities.

The feeling is mutual. Every time someone gets hurt because of something beyond their control, you are there to help them.

Because that's your job as a medic.

You both have quite a difference in interests, though. You can't stand the fact that he’s so reckless, you can't understand why he doesn't think more carefully before he acts. As soon as he sees blood, it's always the most important thing.

Mauga stands tall, towering over his opponents with an impressive height of 7'5 ft tall. (My headcanon)

Mauga is a formidable opponent on the front lines thanks to his strong, muscular physique. His broad shoulders and thick neck gives off an air of strength and power, and his body is well-built, demonstrating his strength and capacity to deal severe damage to rivals.

Did I mention he has two hearts?

Unlike you, Mauga is a ruthless and cunning individual, driven by his own motivations. He never lets anyone interfere with his goals, whether or not they involve you. While he might act with reckless disregard sometimes, he is also able to calculate the best course of action.

Not anyone knows this. But you knew nontheless with Baptiste.

You may be underestimating him in some way, or you may have witnessed the genuine thing, up close and personal, but he always brags about his achievements without hesitation or shame. His fighting style turns wild and unpredictable when he fights. If Mauga doesn't want to win, he will take his time, before using ChaCha and Gunny, his chainguns, to grab the victory, and he won't give up until he achieves his objective.

He definitely is careless, isn't he?

"He's breathing just fine, Baptiste. I would say he is in perfect health, aside from the injuries, I can't detect any signs of any damage injuries either." You said as you stood up. Baptiste sighs relief. "I'll leave him to you doctor. Don't worry, I trust that you have everything under control." He says this to you while nodding in satisfaction.

This gesture of his is a way of gratitude towards the medic's work.

"I will be back later," he says as he leaves to make a round to prepare for battle.

While Baptiste was gone, you sat next to the downed mercenary soldier and begin to observe him. In the midst of his unconsciousness, he seems to be in a good state. There was no sign of discomfort or pain. His pulses are fast but steady, knowing that Mauga have two hearts, one that allowed him to replace his damaged, organic heart with a cybernetic one. That way, his heart will beat twice as fast. You can easily tell that Mauga is in his natural state.

Your eyes began to feel heavy after observing him for some time. You weren't sure if it's due to fatigue from watching him, or simply exhaustion from your duties as a medic.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep.

When you awoke, you find yourself staring back into the face of Maugaloa Malosi, whose lips formed into those flashing, same pasted smile as usual. “Ah, Doctor. How nice to see you again.”

You quickly wake up, sitting straight up on the chair. “M-Mauga!" You exclaimed, alarmed. "H-How is you- I mean are you feeling alright?”

He grinned at you. “I am feeling rather fine.” You let out a long, sigh of relief. However, you didn't anticipate that this would happen frequently. “I see..." You replied.

Silence takes over for a while. Mauga stared at you intensely before taking a step forward. “Your Y/N, correct? Baptiste little assistant. I've heard much about you, but never expect that I would get to get treated from you.”

You flinched slightly at his words 'assistant' and the word 'little', but you remained calm. “I'm glad that you feel better now. You should rest and recover. If you still need them..."

“I appreciate the concern,” he says as he reaches towards your shoulder. You instinctively raise your hands in preparation of blocking. This caught him off guard, causing him to pause in his movements, then booms laughing.

“My apologies, Teuila. I thought that you might have forgotten what I do here,” he said in that familiar, friendly tone.

“If I recall correctly, I haven't given you permission to touch me.” This comment caught him off guard as he chuckles deeply.

He stares at your hand for a while longer. You're beginning to become worried. After a brief silence, he reaches forward and lightly holds onto your wrist.

“That’s a very sensitive spot…” He whispers gently. Your heartbeat begins to accelerate. “And your pulse is fast. Is this normal?” he asks. “Yes,” you respond in a soft voice.

“Then why are you afraid? You know I'm not going to hurt you...” He grinned. His sharp teeth glinted menacingly in the dim light. "Surely you've already made a friend? You also gave him a lot of attention than you do with me. Or have you grown to dislike me?"

"...I... I beg your pardon-" your speech is interrupted by Baptiste with a tired expression.

"Hey... Sorry that I took so long. I went to gather supplies. Mission was a success." He sighed in relief as he approached you.

"Mauga, I'm glad your awake bud." Baptiste sighs in relief and smiles at Mauga. Mauga returned the gesture before looking back at you.

He still has that huge grin plastered across his features while his eyes darted towards yours. "You're crazy out there Mauga. Do you really think that you can defeat the enemies single handedly?" Baptiste says with a chuckle. “You know me Baptiste, I never do things without planning them out.” He grinned, revealing that row of dazzlingly white teeth. “I still don't understand how you've been knocked down so easily. It's hard to believe that you can be beaten like that.” Baptiste gives a half smirk, half frown.

You listen to their conversation, and you try to make sense of it. Mauga laughs at the situation, as if it's all so obvious. "C'mon, Baptiste, we have bigger problems than me right now. The mission is a success because we finally found the enemy camp. But it was a close call, and we needed your medical expertise to treat the wounded," Mauga explains to Baptiste while looking directly into his eyes with a sly smile. "I carried your massive ass in this camp with support of your weight alone. You ought to be pleased to have a subordinate with such skill." Baptiste smirks. He was referring to you. Mauga laughs at his friend's criticism, displaying his amusement at the circumstances.

"So yeah. It was pretty rough, but we managed to secure the objective! Isn't that great news?"

It's not really a surprise to you.

Mauga does tend to put himself in danger, especially when he's in an unfamiliar place.

This guy is completely reckless, which is why you can't believe that he managed to survive so many battles without falling apart or breaking down.

"Your a loose-canon, but I hope ended well..." you say calmly, hoping that you sound convincing enough.

"I can assure that I have the highest respect and admiration for your abilities as a medic. I would never doubt your skills, even if I hadn't personally experience how skilled you are in dealing with wounds." Mauga comments, he sounds sincere as ever.

Baptiste grins again. "That's a big ego of yours, my friend. You should consider giving a few compliments to the people who did more than you."

"I would love to, my friend, but there's nothing wrong with being modest about our accomplishments."

"Alright," Baptiste said, sounding annoyed.

--------

After several hours, days, months of treating your patients at base. You cannot help but wonder seeing Mauga quite often, whether that is purely because of duty or something else. Although it is difficult to tell what he's thinking, there are moments where you notice the way that he is constantly staring at you. Like he's trying to figure out something about you:

studying your appearance, facial expressions, mannerisms. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes he appears to be lost in his own world, occasionally, you could catch him smirking knowingly, or even smiling to himself. These small gestures usually only occur during times when it's with you with him. Sometimes, the man is just too cheerful, or too energetic in general.

You could hardly handle the stress of handling all these patients in the infirmary on your own. You're starting to miss having Baptiste around to keep him occupied while you go through patients. You sighed loudly not until Mauga appears behind you

You found him with wounds on his chest and torso. You turn to look at him, "What happened?"

"Nothing serious..." He grins, showing his sharpened teeth.

"Just a minor injury, eh?" You raise an eyebrow at the mercenary, crossing your arms over your chest. Mauga simply shrugs as he sits on a table.

There was another period of silence between you two, and the atmosphere seemed to tense up considerably. This time, it's you who breaks the silence. "I'm sorry that you got injured. I don't know how I should react seeing someone else getting hurt so casually. You could have died out there. And that's not the worst thing that can happen," you said sarcastically and sternly.

He chuckles. "Oh really? Tell me more." He leans closer to your face, gazing deeply into your eyes. "Ah. So that's how it is."

You glare at him angrily, but he ignores you as you continue working. "Are you seriously going to mock me for worrying about you?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "But there is one thing that concerns me."

"What? You're going to insult me too, aren't you?" Mauga laughs while Y/N tends his injury.

The felt of your touch sends shivers throughout his entire body. He tries hard to suppress the sudden urge to grab her hand and hold on tightly. It's becoming harder to control these urges though. He shakes his head rapidly as he pulls away from you. He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "I'm not mocking you, you know?"

Your gaze flicks briefly to his. "Hm."

There was a short silence between you two, until you began to clean a cut on one of his legs. You noticed his gaze follow every movement of your fingers. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'd prefer that you didn't ask questions so frequently, Teuila."

"Teuila?" You face him. "You know, I never asked you of this... But why do you call me that?" He lets out a deep chuckle and replies. "Because you look like Teuila. It fits well, doesn't it?" He flashes you a warm smile before turning his head away again.

You shrugged of his answer, continuing your work without saying anything further, although you were extremely curious. "Teuila... What does that word mean?" There's a brief moment of silence in between the two of you once you finished cleaning up the blood staining his leg. A faint smile plays across his lips again. "I thought you were better than that."

"And you think that you're better than me?"

"Yeah," he replies smugly.

"Then... You've obviously underestimated me, don't you?" You give him a challenging smirk. He returns the smile with a smirk of his own, but he then turns serious again. His eyes narrow. "Let me enlighten you. That name means 'flower'. Do you understand what kind of flower it means?"

You gave him a blank stare. He continues to smirk, waiting for you to understand his meaning. Eventually, you sigh, putting your hands on your hips. "Do I look like I care to know?" You scoff, rolling your eyes lightly.

Mauga laughs. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what you think of it..."

There was silence between you two for a few seconds, and you looked away with furrowed brows.

You finish patching up the mercenary, placing some bandages around him and securing them securely. "Now that I finished helping you, you're dismissed." You professionaly said after you made sure that everything was covered properly. Mauga laughs at this. "Really? Now? Just like that?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes Mauga, I don't have any other duties besides tending to your wounds. I've been doing that for quite some time now," you responded coldly.

Mauga raises an eyebrow at this. "You know, if you start beginning to care about those wounds, you might find yourself losing them. If you want me to leave your clinic quickly, then you'll have to earn my trust first, which requires some work."

You sigh heavily. Of course Mauga will insist on making things difficult for you. "I am no doctor Mauga, I cannot cure your injuries." You sarcasticly said.

"Oh I know that. But you're still willing to take the risk." He chuckled.

"You wouldn't had to waste precious time coming here in order to talk shit."

Mauga laughs at you again, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. "I wouldn't waste too much time coming here either, but I also wouldn't be able to enjoy it quite as much because you'll be gone by then," he says confidently. "Besides, you're not exactly known for your patience." You roll your eyes, turning back to the table in front of you.

"You know I've always wondered what it feels like to be your patient," Mauga mused. "To be the one receiving the attention of the most skilled medic in your battalion."

"You must be joking," you replied, you know what he meant, not wanting to think that you would ever become his patient.

"No. You know me... " He grins. You groaned. "Don't' make such assumptions, we don't know each other all that well yet."

"Yet..."

You glared at him as he laughed. "Whatever. It seems like there's no stopping you, is there? We haven't even officially met yet, and already you're acting as if you have a good relationship with me." You sighed exasperatedly, massaging the area of your forehead in irritation.

"Listen, Mauga. My job is simple, I care for my patients and treat them well. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I'm different," he said cockily.

"How? Are you not afraid of dying?"

"No... No I'm not... I've done so much more reckless things than death." His expression suddenly shifted to an emotionless one. For a moment, it felt almost as if he wasn't looking at you anymore. Then he chuckled softly, giving you a playful wink. "But I'm no saint."

"It must be hard to admit being human." You shook your head slightly.

"Sometimes." His grin returned to his features.

You couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes for a little longer, taking in how dark they actually are.

Mauga shows a huge plastered face. His still wearing his dumb smile.

You blinked at him.

He blinked back.

You rolled your eyes. "Stop smiling so much." He continued to laugh, as you turned away from him again. Mauga stood up and stretched lazily, "I have something to attend to, I'll be seeing you later," Mauga teasingly said as he made his way towards the door. He opens it, but he glances back.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

You watch him disappear outside the door, closing it behind him with a click. Once the door closes you let out a heavy sigh, resting your back against the wall behind you. Your heart is racing a mile, a minute, both at the prospect of having finally been alone with Mauga again, and the strange feeling within you after you spent several hours alone with him.

This feeling...

It's definitely not normal.

End of part 1

Part 2- ???

#mauga #maugaloa malosi #mauga overwatch #overwatch mauga #overwatch #mauga x reader #ow mauga #mauga ho'okano #overwatch x reader

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