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iydiamartinx · 1 month ago

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PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune & @iydiamartinx word count: 1.6k synopsis: They’ve kept their relationship buried beneath professionalism and protocol, but when someone else starts to flirt with you, Batman’s jealousy slips through the cracks—and so does his control.

The Watchtower’s central command room hummed with quiet conversation, the low murmur of the Justice League echoing beneath flickering lights and the soft whir of the holo-display. The briefing was nearing its end, though you barely noticed. You were seated between Wonder Woman and Batman—though “seated” might’ve been too generous a word. Half-slouched in your chair, one boot propped on the edge of the table, fingers absently twirling a knife you’d snuck in just for the habit of it.

Batman was the one leading the meeting today. The holo-display behind him rotated rapidly through surveillance footage, shifting maps, and streams of encrypted data—all of it moving too fast for the average eye to track. But you weren’t average.

And besides, none of it was news to you. You already knew the plan. You’d helped him write it, not that the rest of the team were aware of that little tidbit.

Which was why you didn’t feel the need to hang on every word as he droned through it again like a stiff-backed schoolteacher.

“Metahuman conflict in Markovia is escalating,” he said, voice low and smooth, as if carved from granite. “We’ll be dispatching teams in rotation.”

Your fingers stilled.

The knife paused mid-spin as he began to list the assigned units. You weren’t paying close attention—until he reached your name.

You blinked. Then slowly sat up, chin coming to rest on your palm as you leaned forward. Your gaze sharpened. You hadn’t been paired with him in the original draft. That… hadn’t been part of the plan.

But he didn’t so much as glance your way.

You leaned forward lazily, elbow propped on the table, chin in your hand. Your voice was a purr of silk and smoke.

“Aww, Batsy,” you drawled, letting the nickname curl like a tease on your tongue. “I knew you couldn’t get enough of me.”

Across the table, Flash blinked twice.

Diana’s brow rose, amused but unsurprised.

Superman coughed—though whether it was to cover a laugh or his disapproval, you couldn’t quite tell.

“You’re a strategic fit for the mission,” he said coolly as he moved to begin typing on the holopad. “Everyone else—meeting dismissed.”

You smirked knowingly.

“Mhm,” you murmured, stretching back in your chair as the rest of the League began to rise. “If that’s what you want to call it, sweetheart.”

You slinked in closer as the others filtered out—Flash already halfway through a joke to Diana, Superman nodding a polite goodbye. You waited for everyone to leave before you dragged a finger across the exposed skin of his jaw, just beneath the edge of the cowl.

“You know,” you said, your voice dropping into a velvet whisper, “if you miss my company that much… you could just ask for it. I’m very good at entertaining.”

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even turn to look at you.

But you saw it—the subtle tension that rolled across his shoulders, the slight grind of his jaw beneath your touch, the way his gloved hand flexed once before his knuckles cracked sharp in the hush between you.

“Dismissed, Y/N.”

That only made your smile stretch wider.

You straightened with a slow roll of your spine, gave him one last smirk, and turned to leave—your steps unhurried, hips swaying with unapologetic purpose. The door hissed open as you passed through it, but not before tossing a final glance over your shoulder.

Oh, you were going to get it later for that one.

You hadn’t made it twenty feet from the briefing room before a voice slid in beside you.

“Alright, I gotta ask—how the hell did you get away with that?”

You shrugged, your voice light. “He doesn’t scare me.”

Hal Jordan let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “No kidding. You’ve got more nerve than most of the League combined to talk to Spooky like that.”

You offered a slow, sideways smile. “You call him that to his face?”

He grimaced immediately. “God, no. I like having all my teeth where they are.”

A quiet snort escaped you. Hal’s grin widened, clearly encouraged.

“So…” he began, scratching the back of his neck like he was trying to seem more nonchalant than he was. “You, uh… got plans after this?”

Before you could answer, you caught the shift of movement at the edge of your vision. A shadow approaching.

“Lantern,” Batman’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and cold. “You’re needed in the lower hangar. Now.”

Hal blinked. “What—now? I haven’t even—”

The air turned colder. Something in Batman’s tone left no room for negotiation, and Hal, to his credit, picked up on it fast. He raised his hands in exaggerated surrender and took a few steps back, though not without flashing you a cheeky wink.

“Rain check, sweetheart.”

You didn’t respond, just offered a lazy shrug and watched him walk away.

The door hadn’t even hissed shut behind Hal before Batman was on you.

Two long strides and you were pinned—back against the cool metal wall of the command deck. One gloved hand braced near your head, the other found your waist—firm, grounding, possessive.

Your lips curled. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not—” he began, but the words barely made it past his lips before your fingers found the centre of his chest plate, tracing the outline of the bat symbol.

You tilted your head, brow arching. “Oh? So if you aren’t… maybe I’ll take him up on his offer for drinks.”

His grip on your waist tightened immediately, fingers flexing through the layers of tactical material like he was resisting the urge to give into his baser desires. Instead, he stepped in, close enough that there was no space left between you two. His voice dropped to a low, razor-edged growl.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

You arched up into him, your lips just shy of his, gaze dark with challenge. “Maybe I need a reminder.”

His mouth crushed to yours with no hesitation, no warning—just the surge of everything he kept buried under armour and silence. His gloved hand tangled in your hair, the other holding your hip in place like he could anchor you there forever. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. This was your Bruce—letting his iron clad control slip.

You kissed him back with equal force, your hands fisting in his suit, mouth parting for him without hesitation. His body pressed flush to yours, heat radiating through armour you both wore.

You could feel the tremble in his control—the rigid lines of muscle taut beneath his suit. He was a man who was always controlled. Always composed.

Except when it came to you.

A soft sound escaped you when his teeth grazed your lower lip—sharp and possessive, leaving behind a faint sting that only made your blood rush hotter.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath ragged against your cheek.

“Is that enough of a reminder,” he growled, “of who you belong to?”

You smiled, slow and wicked, eyes still half-lidded, lips kiss-bitten and tingling. “If you admit you were being jealous,” you murmured. “You know I was just being polite.”

He leaned in again, lips brushing your ear. “You were teasing.”

A shiver danced down your spine at the sound of his voice—low, frayed, barely clinging to composure. You’d pushed him on purpose. And you were still pushing.

“You know if you keep kissing me like that again while we’re in public,” you whispered, “and we won’t be a secret much longer.”

His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you in until your bodies aligned perfectly—fitting together like puzzle pieces “Then stop giving me a reason.”

You tilted your chin, daring him. “Make me.”

His hand moved, slowly smoothing down the curve of your spine and then he was yanking you back to his lips.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you walked into the hangar bay—Batman as his usual cold and professional self. And you, the picture of casual ease, sauntering in like your normal self. Both of you acting as if nothing had happened.

Except it had.

Your lips were still a little too pink. Your hair, despite a quick fix in the mirror, had that artfully tousled edge no amount of finger-combing could completely smooth out. And the faint shadow beneath your jaw—a whisper of a bruise blooming—that told its own story.

You were halfway to the transport when Hal spotted you.

He was leaning against the side of a ship, mid-conversation with Green Arrow before he suddenly paused. His gaze found you first, sliding over your face with idle interest. But then it lingered and his eyes narrowed as he clocked the mark on your jaw.

Then the lips.

Then the hair.

Then—

His gaze shifted past you to where Batman emerged behind you, the cowl shadowing his expression but not hiding the ice behind his stare.

They were locked on Hal giving him the infamous bat glare.

Hal stiffened. His attention bounced between the two of you. You gave him a faint, knowing smirk. The tilt of your head that all but dared him to say something.

And he gulped.

“…Right,” he muttered under his breath, already stepping back. “Yeah. No drinks. Got it.”

Batman didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

Hal was gone in two seconds, leaving nothing but the echo of retreating boots and a poorly veiled sense of self-preservation in his wake.

You didn’t look at Bruce—not until the ship’s ramp sealed behind you both with the soft hiss of pressurized air, sealing you both inside away from the outside world.

Then, at last, you turned and in amusement—you said, “I think he got the message.”

Batman didn’t respond but a faint smug smirk ghosted at his lips.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #batman #batman x reader #batman x you #batman x y/n #dc comics #batman comics #justice league #hal jordan

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corpsypher · 2 months ago

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|| Gymrat!Soap x Fat!Reader ||

Fat!reader that hates gyms (not exercising), hates the judging face staring back at her from the floor to ceiling mirror. Fat!reader that pushes out of her comfort zone to fulfill the needs of her body, and her New Year's resolutions (even if the first trimester of the year is already over). Fat!reader who finds the perfect female instructor, a personal trainer that knows what it feels like to be inside a big body and understands her goals. Fat!reader that after a few weeks forces herself to get used to the 10am crowd, and to not feel as self-conscious about wearing tight sportswear out in public. Fat!reader who's so skilled in avoiding people's eyes on her, accustomed to expecting the worst, that doesn't notice the lustful gaze of a gymrat. Fat!reader who's had the help of a handsome Scottish man spotting her when her coach was called to the front desk. Felt his groin subtly brush against her ass, but dismissed it as an accident because she takes up more space than most people are used to. Fat!reader that's completely oblivious to the fact the buff highlander with the ridiculous Mohawk, and icy blue eyes has synced his routine to match hers strategically. Like when she does her cardio (jogging on the treadmill or climbing the stairmaster), he is always by the weights, dead-lifting her exact body weight while looking at her jiggling and bouncing, making him salivate. Or when she's stretching at the end of a session, doing all kinds of poses that make her groan and moan because of the ache in her muscles. He's close by the benches, hip thrusting several heavy disks, sweating and cursing under his breath. Fat!reader who is unaware of the warnings the staff have issued to him, for public indecency. Making him switch from using his usual gray sweatpants to black loose workout shorts. Fat!reader that didn't think a guy as jacked as Johnny could be so friendly, and sweet to a girl like her. After speaking a few times, they became spotting buddies, and they do cardio together. Just not the one that he wants… yet. She has no clue that he's now obsessed with the sound of her labored breathing, along with the rhythmic thud of her feet hitting the mat of the treadmill, and the choked groans she sometimes lets out while lifting. He can't stay away. Fat!reader who hits the 8-week mark of consistent attendance, and is frustrated to see the scale stay practically the same, her measurements are not different either. Even with the help of the dieting shakes Johnny recommended. The silver lining is her new-found stamina, she feels stronger and with more confidence all while looking the same, she's content with the routine. But that doesn't last. Her trainer is no longer available to work with her, and the gym assigns her someone else while they find a substitute. And he is not friendly at all.

I just love pervert-with-a-plan johnny, who wants to fuck an unsuspecting bae. And then you have someone showing up and pissing all over his plans...

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bluntzah · 2 months ago

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THE PURGE ੈ♡˳

♫ hole — PETALS. nav ; m.list.

౨౿ ྀ word count. 2.7k

౨౿ ྀ pairing. brother’s bsf!hamzah x fem!reader.

౨౿ ྀ warnings. mentions of blowjobs, very detailed description & foul language. please review all warnings before proceeding. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage or interact with.

౨౿ ྀ summary. your brother plans a prank to scare you with help from his best friend, hamzah, but you flip the damn script. what was meant to scare you turns into a insane, fucked moment, one that risks exposing the secret you and hamzah have been hiding all along.

“We’re gonna get her sooooo good,” your brother said with a grin, giving a thumbs up toward Hamzah, who was trying to keep the camera hidden: almost like saying: She can’t see it from here. “m’not entirely convinced she’ll fall for this prank,” Hamzah muttered as he walked over and took the mask from your brother. “She’s kind of slow when it comes to life or death situations.”

“True,” your brother muttered, pulling the mask over his face. The plastic stretched slightly as it slid into place, transforming his familiar features into something more creepy. Hamzah caught the edge of the mask’s hollow eyes, making them look even more weird.

Ever since you’d accidentally snapped the arm off your brother’s glasses and flat out refused to pay for a replacement, he’d been planning over a way to get even. He wasn’t out for revenge exactly, just a good scare. Something to remind you not to mess with his shit again.

Hamzah had casually mentioned that you watched ‘The Purge’ last night, dropping it into conversation like it was nothing. But the moment the words hit his ear, your brother’s head snapped toward him.

“How the fuck do you know that?” each word dripping with suspicion. Hamzah froze for a moment. “Heard it when I was leaving yesterday.” Just like that, your brother’s gaze stayed for another second, long enough to make Hamzah feel the fuck out of it, before he gave a small grunt and looked away.

The breath Hamzah let out was as though he’d been underwater and had finally broken the damn surface. The relief that washed over his face was instant. His shoulders dropped slightly, and his fingers unclenched from the edge of the couch. He was lucky, seriously lucky that Hamzah actually came over yesterday to hang out with his best friend before slipping off to your room. If he hadn’t, that quick little lie would've crumbled the second he decided to push further.

Your brother was already plotting something. So, later that day, he dragged Hamzah along with him to a sketchy party store. They came back with cheap masks, but weirdly identical to the ones from The Purge.

You had gone to pick up the food your brother purposefully assigned to you, all part of his little prank. He needed time, after all. Time for him and Hamzah to finalize their plan, throw on the all black outfits, and run out to grab the masks.

And because your brother knew you better than you'd like to admit, he ordered from that one spot located near all your favorite stores. He counted on you getting distracted, staying longer than necessary, just like you always did.

It had become a habit, one that annoyed him more times than he could count. But today, it worked perfectly in his favor.

Hamzah had played ‘The Purge’ broadcast sound on the living room TV, strategically chosen, since it would be the first thing you’d hear the moment you walked through the door.

They had every detail planned out: Hamzah would be the first person you’d see, standing silently in a corner, hidden behind his mask. The second you bolted in fear toward your bedroom, your brother would be waiting for part two of the prank. Both of them closing in on you until you were so terrified you’d start crying: that’s exactly how your brother imagined it going, and exactly how he instructed Hamzah to carry it out.

“What if she tries to run out the door?” Hamzah asked, imagining the door still slightly open when you catch sight of him and run the other way. “Grab her? We’re grown men, Hamzah. She’s a little fuckin’ girl,” your brother annoyingly muttered as he jabbed the volume up button on the remote. “I give you permission to touch her if that makes you feel better, or whatever,” he added with a shrug.

Hamzah nearly laughed at the phrase “little fuckin’ girl,” considering you were only a year younger. And when your brother said, “I’ll give you permission to touch her,” stupidly unaware that Hamzah had already done far more than just touching you.

“Stick to the plan,” your brother said, adjusting his mask. “That bitch is gonna learn not to break my stuff and then act like she doesn’t have to pay for it.” Hamzah pulled on his own mask: the one he’d specifically chosen, the one your brother had called ‘creepy as fuck,’ which was exactly the vibe they were aiming for.

It wasn’t until then that Hamzah noticed your car pulling into the driveway, visible through the porch camera. Your brother quickly jogged to your room, and as soon as Hamzah heard your door shut, he moved to his usual spot in the living room — tucked away in the far corner hidden by the window. It was the perfect place to stay out of sight.

Hamzah heard the sound of your car door shutting, followed by the rustling of bags. He nearly rolled his eyes. Of fuckin’ course, you’d gotten more than just the food. Your brother had called it perfectly. Sure enough, you walked up with four extra bags from different stores. One of them was from a clothing shop, and Hamzah had to stop himself from grinning at the thought: he couldn’t wait to ask you to try everything on for him later.

He heard your keys jingling first, then the creak of the door opening. Luckily, you didn’t notice Hamzah right away, too focused on getting all the bags inside without anything spilling or tearing open. “Got your shit!” you called out, not even bothering to unpack.

You dropped the bags where they landed and turned toward the living room. Only to freeze, eyes going wide the moment you saw him. Or rather, the masked figure you thought was a stranger.

For a singular second, panic flashed across your face as Hamzah stood there, having to chase you to your room — the one place you were supposed to run to. But to his surprise, you let out a quiet sigh. A sigh of relief. Hamzah took a step forward, bracing himself for the sprint he thought was coming. But you didn’t move. You just stood there, frozen in place.

You bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as you step toward Hamzah. You slowly close the distance until you’re standing right in front of him: so close that your nose brushes against the cold surface of his mask.

“Cute,” you muttered. “Watching The Purge while you fucked me into my bed last night gave you the idea, hm?” You hummed, knowing full well what you were doing. Even though you couldn’t see his face, Hamzah’s neck flushed red. He had a weird way of blushing, and this was definitely it. You’d made a point the night before to mention how hot the girls in the movie looked in those “KISS ME” masks. And sure enough, that’s exactly the one he was wearing now.

Hamzah prayed on anything and everything that your brother hadn’t heard a word. And as if the universe decided to mock him, the TV kicked on right then:

“This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the first, official Purge. Sanctioned by the New Founding Fathers. A nationwide experiment of violence and crime is now in effect for twelve hours. All crime, including murder, is legal.”

You glanced over your shoulder when the broadcast started playing, but that was all. A blink, then your eyes were back on Hamzah.

He was still frozen. Not because the plan called for him to chase you into your room but because he physically couldn’t move. He couldn’t risk your brother seeing just how hard he was for his sister, how your casual teasing about last night made his heart pound like a drum.

You turned back with a sweet smile, reached up, and gently lifted his mask: just enough to see his face one last time before you slowly dropped to your knees.

“Your brother…” Hamzah finally managed to say. You shrugged, completely unbothered. “What about him?” Hamzah nearly choked on a gasp as your fingers started trailing along his belt.

“He’s… in your room,” he muttered, guilt creeping in. He knew damn well that if your brother found out he threw the whole prank by giving in to you, he’d probably slam Hamzah’s head into the nearest wall. You looked up at him through your lashes, innocent and dangerous all at once. “Why is he in my room?”

You began unzipping Hamzah’s pants, making his eyes flick toward your bedroom door: closed, but far too close for comfort. He knew your brother, his best friend, was waiting just behind it. “We were… uh… doing a prank,” he mumbled, trying to focus. You hummed, encouraging him to go on.

“Thought we’d scare you… after you broke your brother’s glasses…” His words trailed off, dissolving into silence as your fingers brushed against him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He inhaled, chest rising with the struggle it took not to make a sound.

“And you agreed to help him?” you asked with mock disappointment. Hamzah nodded, a little breathlessly. You shook your head slowly. “That’s so mean.” Just as the words left your mouth, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, his dick springing free the moment it was released.

“Your brother—” “Then you better stay the fuck silent unless you want him to hear you,” you cut him off instantly, eyes locked dead on his. After all, they were the ones who planned this whole prank, now it was just about to blow up right in their faces.

Hamzah doesn’t protest. How could he? He doesn’t want you to stop. Who would? You’re on your knees, lashes fluttering as you look up at him, and now all he can think about is the heat of your mouth.

His cock throbs, just inches from your face, the tip already dripping with pre-cum. You lick your lips, hunger written all over your expression, desperate for the smallest taste.

You wrap your hand around his cock, your fingers not quite able to meet around him. You stick out your pink tongue and swipe up the drip of pre-cum, savoring the salty sweet taste, not givin’ a fuck at the slight bitterness that hits your tongue.

A soft hum escapes you: you like it. You part your lips and take the tip into your mouth. “Easy… mm… m’sensitive,” Hamzah stuttered, his voice shaky as his hand found its way into your hair, fingers curling. He loved the way your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, how he could feel your saliva with every movement. Your tongue swirled around the head, gathering more pre-cum, like you were smacking on every drop.

You began to gently suck on his tip, and the reaction was instant: he twitched in your mouth, jaw tightening. “Mm,” he barely managed, biting down on the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. He was doing everything he could not to make a sound, everything. But it was nearly impossible with the only noise in the room being the sirens from the ‘Purge’ broadcast from the TV, the prank long gone from his mind.

You take him deeper, your lips stretching wide to fit his size. The head of his dick presses against the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex. Your eyes begin to water, tears welling up at the corners and slowly spilling over onto your puffy cheeks.

Forcing your jaw to relax, you push him impossibly deeper until your nose buries itself in his abs. "Sohh guhd," you try to say around him, but it comes out muffled and garbled, sending vibrations down his dick.

You arch your neck, pressing your throat and chin against him, creating the perfect angle for him to start face-fucking you. He grabs a handful of your hair, using it as force to snap his hips forward, driving his dick out and in, in and out of your mouth.

You pullback, lips sliding off his dick with a wet pop. A string of saliva stretches from your mouth to his meat as you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you look up at him through watery eyes.

Snatching the white mask with the grotesque smiling mouth from where you had perched it up on his head, you secured it back over Hamzah's face. You drop back down to your knees, wrapping your lips around him again, immediately picking up speed. Your head bobs faster, creating a wet sound as your mouth stretches around his thickness. Saliva bubbles at the corners of your lips, making the blowjob all the more messy.

Your cheeks hollow as you suck harder, creating the tightest seal with your lips. You watch in a trance as the masked Hamzah throws his head back, stretching his strong neck. You swirl your tongue around him, feeling every throbbing vein, sending trembles down his overstimulated body.

"Squeeze me right here, please squeeze... Mhm!" Hamzah's eyes roll back as he starts to lose control, his hands gripping your head tightly as he fucks your mouth. He knows that if his best friend walked in right now, he would be met with a beating. The sight of you on your knees, taking his cock so deeply down your throat that tears stream down your face, would enrage him. However, Hamzah can't stop, and neither can you.

You love the taste of him, love the way his cock throbs and twitches against your tongue and throat. Each movement brings him closer to the edge, and you can feel it building with every suck and swallow. His approaching orgasm is obvious in the way his dick pulses and jerks in your mouth.

His cock bulges noticeably before releasing the first hot spurt of cum directly into your throat. You gag slightly as the first wave hits you, immediately forcing you to swallow. The taste is amazing - creamy and salty, flooding your mouth and coating your pink tongue.

Hamzah quickly grabs the pillow from beside you on the couch, pressing it firmly against his face. He bites down hard, muffling his loudest moan. You stand up gracefully, carefully placing the pillow back where it belongs. Hamzah's breathing is heavy, rising and falling rapidly as he recovers from the mind blowing orgasm you just gave him.

He quickly pulls up his boxers and zips his pants, attempting to compose himself as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, you storm towards your bedroom, slamming the door open with a loud bang.

There was silence before Hamzah heard your brother’s frustrated voice. “How the hell did you know? Did Hamzah say something? Hamzah! What the fu—” but he was quickly interrupted by you. “Hamzah didn’t tell me anything. You and his height aren’t exactly hard to notice, dumbass.”

The next time the two of you came out of your room, Hamzah overheard your brother mutter, “You’re fuckin’ irritating.” You just shrugged, offering a small smile. “I don’t know, Hamzah doesn’t seem to find me irritating.” The only reason you said that was to get a reaction from Hamzah, knowing he was still recovering from the aftershocks of what you had just done. With your brother also in the room now, he couldn’t fully relax.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Your brother’s gaze immediately shifted to Hamzah, who quickly flushed and shrugged nervously, a slight panic evident in the back of his neck.

“I just mean,” you continued, “he doesn’t seem upset that the plan didn’t go as planned… right, Hamzah? You’re not mad?” Hamzah caught the playfulness in your eyes, recognizing the smile tugging at your lips as you recalled the moment you had taken care of him, made him feel so good.

“Whatever,” your brother muttered, signaling Hamzah to follow him as he began heading back toward his room. Hamzah let your brother walk ahead for a moment, then jogged over to you quickly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before running to catch up with your brother.

#🍋‍🟩🪴bluntzah!masterlist.#brothers!bsf!hamzah #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah angst #hamzah the fantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah smut

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gunsandspaceships · 7 months ago

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MCU Timeline: Captain America: The First Avenger

March 10, 1917 - James Buchanan Barnes is born.

August 15, 1917 - Howard Anthony Stark is born.

July 4, 1918 - Steven Grant Rogers is born.

April 9, 1919 - Margaret "Peggy" Carter is born.

Why 1919 (deleted scene from The Avengers) and not 1921 (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), as stated in Wikipedia: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is not canon for the MCU (events of the show take place in another universe, where Peggy was born in a different year and had a different background).

1934-1936 - young Peggy serves as a nurse in the British Air Force.

1936-1940 - Peggy serves in the Special Air Service.

1940:

Peggy joins the Strategic Scientific Reserve.

Howard founds Stark Industries and becomes its CEO.

May 1941 - Steven Rogers attends a Dodgers vs The Phillies baseball game at Ebbets Field, Brooklyn.

March 1942 - Red Skull invades Norway and extracts the Tesseract.

1942/1943 - The Allies receive a gift from Wakanda: Vibranium. It is given to the SSR's Head Engineer - Howard Stark.

1943:

June 14:

13:50 - Steve gets his last 4F.

And his last beating in the alley a couple of hours later.

Evening - he and Bucky go to the "World Exposition of Tomorrow", where Howard demonstrates his (almost) flying car. Steve meets Dr. Erskine and gets a (falsified) 1A.

June 15:

Sergeant James Barnes heads to Europe with the 107th Infantry Regiment.

Candidate Rogers begins his trial week for Project Rebirth at Camp Lehigh in NJ.

June 21 - Dr. Erskine makes his choice and informs Rogers. They talk about it, about the serum and HYDRA.

June 22, morning - Steve becomes a super soldier. Erskine is killed. The last vial of serum is destroyed.

June 23:

Rogers is offered a position in the USO theater (to help sell war bonds) and receives a (fake) rank of captain.

Night - SSR (including Peggy and Howard) is being retasked to fight HYDRA and goes to London, UK.

July-October - Captain America's US tour (over 200 performances).

November 3rd:

Captain America show in Italy.

Night - Steve goes behind the lines to a HYDRA camp in Austria to rescue Bucky with the help of Peggy and Howard.

November 5th - he returns with 400 (CATFA) or 163 (CATWS) liberated soldiers.

A couple of days later - SSR in London. Based on the locations of HYDRA bases remembered by Rogers, they develop a plan to combat HYDRA. Steve puts together a team.

Marvel Studios' mistake: the medals and badges Steve wears don't make any sense at this particular moment. He simply had neither the time nor the opportunity to earn the Combat Infantry Badge, or the Presidential Unit Citation Badge, nor could he receive the American Defense Service Medal.

Next day, 8 am- Steve meets with Howard and receives his vibranium shield.

1944:

November 1943 - November 1944 - Howling Commandos destroy HYDRA weapons factories.

December 1944 - January 1945 - attack on the train with Dr. Zola. Bucky falls from the train from a great height and is declared killed in action. Zola is captured.

1945:

Soon after, early January - the Valkyrie is finished and ready to attack major US cities. SSR receives information about the location of HYDRA's main base in the Alps and heads there.

Next day - SSR attacks HYDRA's main base. Red Skull teleports to Vormir. The Tesseract is lost in the Arctic Ocean. Crash of the Valkyrie. Steve goes into suspended animation.

After January 1945 - Howard Stark leads expeditions to find Rogers. He finds the Tesseract, but not Captain.

March 23, 1945 - Case №17 is opened. James Barnes "joined" the HYDRA branch in the USSR.

May 8, 1945 - VE-Day.

Spring-Summer 1945 - Howard is involved in the Manhattan Project.

1946:

December 1945/January 1946 - Peggy is assigned to the SSR office in New York.

March 1946 - events of "Agent Carter" one-shot.

2012:

Early 2012 - 67 years later, Steve Rogers is found frozen but alive.

April 2012 - Rogers wakes up in the S.H.I.E.L.D. recovery room in New York City.

MCU Timeline: The Infinity Saga

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #james barnes #mcu timeline #captain america the first avenger #captain america the winter soldier #agent carter #peggy carter #howard stark

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edawgz · 7 days ago

Text

just for tonight

| anakin skywalker x reader. ~1.2k words. comfort, fluff. alphabet soup A.

masterlist. | alphabet soup. | oneshots.

The planet was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made your neck itch and your instincts stand on edge. The 501st had secured the outpost without casualties, but your gut told you the Separatists weren’t done.. not yet.

You sat on the edge of a supply crate, fingers tapping against your knee, helmet abandoned on the ground beside your foot. A soft, dry wind swept through the remains of the enemy base, carrying with it the scent of burnt circuitry and rust. It should’ve felt like a win. Instead, it just felt...empty.

“Do you always sulk when the mission’s too easy?”

You didn’t need to look up. That voice.. that half-smirk, half-challenge was already seared into your brain. Anakin Skywalker. Of course.

You rolled your eyes and tilted your head toward him. “Do you always gloat when no one asked?”

He rounded the corner, arms crossed over his chest, smugness radiating off him like heat. His tunic was torn at the sleeve, dried blood staining the fabric near his shoulder, and his lightsaber was clipped neatly to his belt like nothing about today had been dangerous.

“I’m just saying,” he prodded, stepping closer, “if you’d listened to my plan the first time, we could’ve wrapped this up an hour ago.”

You scoffed, “If we’d followed your plan, half the squad would be in bacta tanks right now.”

“That’s dramatic,” he narrowed his eyes, “Rex agreed with me.”

“Rex always agrees with you.” You complained

“Because I’m usually right.”

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

This was how it always went. You and Skywalker -- bickering like two sparring Padawans, locked in some eternal clash of ideals. You were careful and strategic. He was chaos in a robe. And yet... every time you found yourself assigned to his battalion, a traitorous part of you looked forward to it.

Not the war. Not the violence. Just him.

The way he threw himself into danger without blinking. The way he pushed your buttons like it was a sport. The way his walls dropped when no one else was looking. And how, sometimes on rare nights like this, he let you sit beside him without saying anything at all.

He dropped down next to you on the crate, close enough that your knees knocked together.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low now.

You glanced sideways, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t move and didn’t push, he just watched you for a long moment before saying, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Your shoulders stiffened at that comment. “You didn’t see what I saw out there today,” you muttered.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“In the eastern corridor.. there were kids. Civilians. Trapped under wreckage. I had to leave them to finish the mission. I gave the order to leave them.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t have a choice.”

You exhaled slowly through your teeth, “I know. But it still doesn’t feel like something I should forgive myself for.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then, in a voice arguably quieter than silence, “I’ve made worse choices.”

You turned your head to look at him, surprised.

“Don’t do that,” he said, meeting your gaze. “Don’t carry it alone.”

You swallowed hard. “You’re not exactly a model for sharing, Skywalker.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m trying.”

You studied him. The hard lines of his face, the scar above his eye, and the exhaustion that lived in the corners of his mouth, behind his flippant sarcasm.

You were about to say something, maybe something important, when his fingers brushed yours on the crate. And stayed there.

You looked down. His hand was warm, calloused but gentle. It was steady.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a cracked whisper.

“Something stupid,” he breathed out. “..Probably.”

You didn’t move, you knew you should but you didn't want to.

“Do you ever wonder,” he murmured, “what it would be like if we weren’t Jedi?”

You froze. “Anakin…”

“I know. I know we’re not supposed to ask things like that,” he said quickly. “I just-.. can’t help it. Especially with you.”

You were silent, then, very softly, “Sometimes I wonder.”

His head turned toward you. You kept your eyes forward, heart thudding.

“What do you imagine?” he asked.

You let out a breath as you gathered your thoughts, “I imagine quiet,” you started. “Peace. No battles, no orders, no Council watching our every move.”

He nodded slowly. “And me?”

You hesitated before a small smile tugged at your lips, " Yes, I imagine you too.”

That did it.

He shifted toward you fully now, knee brushing yours, hand still covering your fingers.

“I’d find you,” he said, voice rough. “Even if we weren’t Jedi. Even in another life. I think I’d still find you.”

You turned to him, the air between you tightened and pulled like a wire stretched too far.

You wanted to tell him he was foolish and that this was dangerous. That the Jedi Code didn’t allow this -- whatever this was.

But all that came out was, “I think I’d let you.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or reckless, it was soft -- like he’d been waiting for years and finally decided to stop pretending.

Your hand slid up into his hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. For a moment, the galaxy fell silent.

There was no war. No title. No duty. Just you and him. Two people beneath a sky that didn’t care who you were.

When you finally pulled back, you stayed close. Foreheads pressed together as you let your breath mingling.

He smiled, just barely. “You’ll yell at me for this later, won’t you?”

You smirked with a breathy chuckle, “Definitely.”

He chuckled, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes all the way. You saw the fear there. The guilt and the weight of what this meant was too obvious. It was obvious because you understood it, you felt it too.

But for once, you let yourself have it anyway. Even if it was just for tonight.

“Let’s go,” you sighed eventually. “Rex is probably sending a search party.”

“Or placing bets,” Anakin muttered, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it. You always would.

Later, aboard the cruiser, no one said anything when you walked in side by side. You two didn’t talk about it again, not right away at least. But the next time you fought back-to-back with him on some distant battlefield, and your hands touched, and your eyes met... you knew..

Even if it had to be a secret. Even if the galaxy was crumbling. Even if the stars were wrong. You always would have each other.

#ao3 #fanfic #dawgpound #edawgz #wattpad #writer #alphabetsoupz #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #imagines #one shot #oneshots #star wars #sw

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sugurugetoshairbrush · 6 months ago

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playing match-maker with professor!gojo satoru—”we can’t mind our business!” [nxt]

teaching is incredibly rewarding. nothing beats the sense of fulfillment that comes with educating the next generation—it gives you a sense of purpose and makes you feel like a contributing member of society. but recently, you've developed a guilty pleasure, an unhealthy vice.

because, in truth, what you really find rewarding isn’t teaching. it’s the juicy gossip you share with your colleague, gojo satoru.

it started innocently enough—quick whispers and passing speculations about students during breaks. then it escalated to frantic texts about classroom dramas. now, it’s a full-blown routine: coordinating your lunch breaks to debrief over an aptly chosen herbal tea at the café across the street.

gojo, the physics professor, is an instigator by nature. unfairly brilliant and chronically bored, he’s always looking for ways to entertain himself. you, an english professor with a manageable workload, were the perfect partner in crime. together, you’ve meddled in your students’ lives, and your escapades have become something of a shared hobby.

his preferred method of meddling is match-making, and to your credit you guys have had one successful match:

juniors, kasumi miwa and kokichi muta.

sweet, hardworking miwa was one of your favorite students, always putting extra effort into your creative writing assignments. muta, (aptly nick-named mechamaru) is a genius with mechanics and the president of the robotics club. gojo taught him quantum physics and claimed he was one of the sharpest students he’d ever met.

it started with a haiku.

you’d assigned miwa’s class a poetry assignment, and her submission, though simplistic, immediately caught your attention:

I may not love science, I can’t bring machines to life, yet I yearn for you.

if that wasn’t enough, there were faintly erased doodles of robots holding hands in the margins of her submitted assignments. around the same time, gojo noticed muta sitting strategically in his class so he could be visible through the window into yours. he angled his notes just enough to display his complex equations—clearly trying to impress miwa.

the moment you pieced it together, you texted gojo:

dr. gojo satoru: no way, her haiku is basically screaming I love him

you: lmao I asked her about the inspiration, and she said, “just a friend”

dr. gojo satoru: she’s gonna move on if we don’t act now!

you: what if we double-book office hours for them? “accidentally,” of course

dr. gojo satoru: omg brilliant, drafting the email rn XD

the plan worked. you and gojo “accidentally” scheduled them for office hours at the same time, then conveniently left them alone. miwa, stumped by an intentionally tricky writing assignment, was soon receiving help from muta. numbers were exchanged, tutoring sessions turned into hangouts, and four months later, they were officially dating.

now, every month, gojo extorts a cream puff from muta as a “thank you” for the setup from the pricey bakery downtown. you pretend to disapprove but always end up splitting the treat.

which brings you to your current predicament. you and gojo are locked in a heated debate about which first-year students to set up next. gojo insists itadori yuji and kugisaki nobara are the ideal pair, but you’re convinced yuji and fushiguro megumi are better suited. gojo’s conviction runs so deep he swears it’s ingrained in on an atomic level.

so to raise the stakes, gojo has wagered his louis vuitton messenger bag (est. value: $3k), while you’ve offered up your earnings from the third installment of your self-published ya novel (est. value: $4k). and yes, the fact that those numbers are so close in value is embarrassing.

desperate to prove each other wrong, you agree to consult your colleagues.

gojo’s first choice? philosophy professor getou suguru.

dr. gojo satoru added you and prof. getou suguru to a group chat

dr. gojo satoru named the group chat cupids <3

dr. gojo satoru: getouuuu dr. gojo satoru: getougetougetougetougetou

prof. getou suguru: this is highly unethical.

prof. getou suguru left the chat.

though getou pretends to be above your antics, he shows up to join you in gojo’s office later, coffee in hand and smirking. he brushes a finger across the desk and frowns at the dust.

“if I were willing to entertain your ridiculous game—which I’m not—I’d say megumi and yuji are the better match,” he declares, smugly.

he strolls to the whiteboard, sliding his glasses down from his forehead to settle over his eyes, his black bangs falling neatly into place, and begins sketching a diagram:

utilitarianism: will the act ultimately result in the best overall results—maximizing utility?

• megumi x yuji: opposing personalities balance each other out, ultimately improving their weaknesses. ↳ e.g. megumi silences yuji when he talks over the lecture, while yuji incites megumi to participate more during group projects, increasing his participation.

• nobara x yuji: similar personalities embolden bad habits, ultimately leading to chaos. ↳ e.g. nobara and yuji are rarely late individually, but when they hang out, they end up coming to class late, usually carrying coffee, and snacks.

getou pops the cap back on and crosses his arms, “I rest my case.”

you cheer while gojo groans, insisting getou’s biased.

determined to recruit an ally, gojo drags you to statistics professor nanami kento, the epitome of calm professionalism. confident in his plan, gojo smirks and declares, “once nanami agrees with me, the resident genius, your theory will come to a grinding halt—no momentum, no inertia, just friction stopping you in your tracks.”

nanami’s sitting at his desk engrossed in grading assignments when you all appear in the doorframe. his brown oxfords shined, speckled tie flung loose over his shoulder.

when he notices your presence, he pointedly checks his watch before stating, “you’ve got ten minutes, for,” he gestures, “whatever this is, I leave at six.”

you explain the predicament and nanami rolls his eyes, rubbing at his temples like he’d just got a headache. “sounds like simple probability, for example,” he rises to pick up a piece of chalk from his blackboard:

p (a) = # of favorable outcomes / # of possible outcomes

p (a) represents the probability of event “a”, megumi and yuji coupling up

he draws a number here, a letter there—the equation is getting increasingly hard to follow, even gojo looks dumbfounded.

“two, carry the one. and you get…” he starts completing the result:

p (a) = f(u)<k 0ff

he deadpans, the mirth visible in his eyes, “you guys really thought I’d help you with your childish endeavor, has anyone ever told you to simply just mind your own.”

you huff out offended, “we can’t mind our business! come on, don’t be like that. aren’t you close with yuji, being his advisor and all, you should want the best for him!”

nanami sighs, glancing down again at his watch. five more minutes. he approaches you and flips open his phone, scrolling for a couple seconds.

“here look,” he tilts the screen showing a text thread with yuji:

itadori yuji (freshman): sensei can I ask you something?

nanami k.: what can I do for you itadori?

itadori yuji (freshman): you know how I’m undeclared? well, I love spending time with friends. is it okay for their interests to influence my major?

nanami k.: while the choice should ultimately be your decision itadori, it is only natural that your environment and experiences influence the line of thinking that leads to that decision. which of your peers have you found most influential?

itadori yuji (freshman): I don’t wanna say because I don’t think they realize how much I look up to, and respect them. I’m scared I’ll psyche them out. but they’re terrific: driven, independent, and forthright.

nanami k.: well if those traits are any indicator they seem like a strong, positive influence to your academics.

you finish reading and you all share a look. you start, “okay so, I think I’m confident that with yuji’s messages in mind, we all think, no, are certain, that yuji’s ideal match is…”

“megumi!”

“nobara.”

“megumi!”

“nobara!”

and so, you once again, begin considering who might be the next best person to consult for an additional perspective.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ back in their dorms, megumi, yuji, and nobara can’t stop sneezing, the sheer weight of being so heavily discussed tickling their senses.

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waitingonher · 2 years ago

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A LIFE WITHOUT YOU ISN'T A LIFE AT ALL

summary: the aftermath of your injury. [percy jackson x reader]

author's note: finally on break so hopefully i can post more?? also i wrote this all in one sitting so i hope it makes sense...

percy jackson can take physical pain. he’s used to it. he’s seen everything in the book, from blood to broken bones, and it’s become easier to digest over the years. yet, what he can’t ever seem to get over, is the sight of you hurt. there’s nothing that could ever prepare him for the inevitable moments where your life would hang in the balance. today just happened to be one of those moments.

first, percy heard the screams, then he saw the blood. it was a strategically crafted ploy to hit him where it hurt—you. honestly, if you asked percy, he wouldn’t be able to tell you anything of what had happened in the following moments. all he knows is that he fought like hell to get you back.

“y/n,” a familiar voice pleads, “wake up, please, wake up,” fuzzy. everything was fuzzy. but then there was the familiar scent of lemon verbena—the candle will always lights in the infirmary. your hands begin to roam as you feel the cotton bed sheets, why are you in the infirmary? your eyes shoot open and immediately meet percy’s. he seems to be frantically talking, but you can only hear the ringing in your ears.

all of a sudden your hearing rushes back, and you really wish it hadn’t. people shouting orders and people crying over their loved ones wasn’t necessarily what one would want to wake up to. percy’s eyes widen in relief as he kisses your hand, “thank the gods. i almost thought i lost you.”

pause. you and annabeth were supposed to be leading the charge against the monsters on the northern borders of camp. where is she? how is she? despite being in no condition for sitting up, or for anything in that matter, you attempt to get up, “percy, i- me and annabeth, i need to get back,” an excruciating flash of pain pulses in your gut and you cry out.

percy immediately ushers you to lay back down on the bed, “y/n you need to-”

“no percy,” dazed, you fight against his hold, ignoring the burning pain, “please, let me go. annabeth, she needs my help and i can’t just-”

“y/n,” he interrupts, his voice ever so slightly raised, “listen to me,” percy cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. blood. there was so much blood on his face. then you notice the wild look in his eyes, “you’re okay. annabeth is okay. everyone is okay. it’s over, we won.”

you slowly nod as you take everything in. everything hurt. you had a relentless pounding in your head and an awful pain in your stomach, “what happened?”

percy pulls in a chair and closes the curtain around your bed, “from what i’ve heard from annabeth, your team arrived at the planned meeting spot, and instead of the couple dozens of monsters you guys expected…there were hundreds. i guess they somehow knew that you were assigned the northern border so they-”

“they focused all their divisions on the northern border, where i was,” you realize. it makes sense, and quite frankly, it was a good plan. why go for the rest of the camp when you could aim for the one person percy cares for the most? you sigh as you sink your head back into the pillow, a potent mixture of guilt and frustration eating at you.

percy takes your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over your bruised knuckles. he knows all too well what it’s like to be in this position, “y/n please don’t be so hard on yourself. nobody knew that this would happen.”

you purse your lips, “i know, i just can’t shake the feeling that i could’ve done something differently. i mean look around, this is the busiest i’ve seen the infirmary since the last titan war. and you, you’re hurt too,” your arm weakly raises to wipe away a bit of crusted blood on percy’s cheek. you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself if percy died because of you.

“y/n, you did everything you could. and besides, we can’t control everything, especially when it’s war. we knew the risks the moment we decided to fight back,” his hand meets yours as you caress his face.

you sigh, “you’re right. thank you percy.”

he gives you a reassuring nod, “and i’m okay, i promise, i already got everything looked at,” he adds, “will said i should be back to normal within a few days.”

you hum in approval and you two lapse into comfortable silence. percy opens his mouth as if to say something, but lets it fall shut. instead, he reaches for your hand again, holding tightly as if you were to fly away at a moments notice. you look at your boyfriend, finding him deep in thought, “percy what’s wrong?”

his gaze falls to the floor and a few moments pass before he lets out a shaky sigh, “i was just so scared. i mean, when i got there, i found you and you were just laying there,” he pauses, his brows furrowed and lips pursed, “i don’t think i’ve ever ran so fast in my entire life,” percy’s voice was barely above a whisper.

your heart begins to ache knowing how hard this affects him. but you also can’t help feeling happy knowing that percy feels so strongly for you.

“then when i got you here, even will was concerned, and you know how good he is. and then he was working on you for hours, and there was so much blood and i just…” he pauses before looking at you, his eyes swimming with desperation, “i've realized that i can’t live without you. so please-”

“percy," you grasp his shoulder tightly, almost as if proving your existence to him, “i'm alive. you saved my life. and i wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. you realize that, right?”

percy nods his head slowly, he himself finally realizing that everything would be okay, “yeah.”

“good, now give me a hug, my love,” you chuckle, “you’re too tense.”

and he does not need to be told twice. percy practically jumps (very carefully) into your arms, squeezing you in a tight hug. at the end of the day, you’re going to be alright, and that’s all percy’s asking for.

“i love you,” he whispers. a quiet oath to always be the one to find you, to always be the one to save you.

“i love you too, percy,” a promise to do the same.

#HELP i didnt know what to do for the theme #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #rick riordan #riordanverse #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

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sincerelykimii · 1 month ago

Text

𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔

𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑥 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑺𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑌𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦. 𝑇𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠…

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑦!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑔𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒, 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒, 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ(𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝚑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ), 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑥𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑠ℎ𝑒／ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑠 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑, 𝚑𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔！

𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦！

𝐴／𝑁：𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑠* 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑆𝑂 𝐺𝑂𝑂𝐷 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑣ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝐴𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 “𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑” 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑖. 𝐴𝑙𝑠𝑜, 𝐼’𝑚 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑦 𝑛𝑡𝑚 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤…

In the bustling world of S.H.I.E.L.D., you found yourself navigating the complexities of espionage and covert operations. Despite your gentle demeanor, you were a highly skilled agent, proficient in hand-to-hand combat and advanced technology. Your days were filled with rigorous training sessions, strategic planning meetings, and high-stakes missions. Your kindness and empathy set you apart from your peers, earning you the respect and admiration from most of your colleagues. You couldn’t have felt more content with life itself. Well, until Fury decided it was time for a new partner.

Everything changed when you were partnered with Bucky Barnes, the enigmatic former Winter Soldier. Initially, your partnership was met with skepticism from both sides, as Bucky's brooding nature contrasted sharply with your warm personality. However, as the two of you embarked on missions together, a mutual respect and understanding began to form. Your unwavering optimism and compassion helped Bucky confront his troubled past, while Bucky's experience and resilience inspired you to push your limits. Together, you became an unstoppable team, blending their unique strengths to protect the world from emerging threats. Their partnership not only transformed their professional lives but also forged a deep, unspoken bond that neither had anticipated.

Once again you felt content with the life you had. Only a few months of working together, word spread you were partners with Bucky around the compound faster than you could think. Initially you didn’t mind. You didn’t think being his partner was such a big deal…until you heard your name a few too many times in conversations. It started with, the why’s. Why did fury choose them to be his partner? Then came, the what if’s. What if I was chosen? I’d fit the criteria much better.

You couldn’t care less about what they were saying, you knew your abilities and you knew your worth. That was until, the comments they were making became…personal. Constant picking you apart about your appearance, your personality, even the way you talked. You tried to ignore it for so long, but slowly, you started to believe them. What if he had a better partner? Someone who fit the criteria, the looks, the attitude.

When fury assigned the two of you to a week long mission, you were more than relieved. Seven long days away from all the whispers, and the glares. But the words they embedded into your mind…

Just wouldn’t go away.

———

Bucky entered the second hotel room of the week beside you with his duffel bag and a grumpy face. Most of the mission was merely a stakeout, something both of you were relieved to have, But you just had to distract him talking about god knows what, getting both of you spotted. The fight was brutal. There were multiple men against the two of you and it clearly wasn’t a problem for Bucky, but it was for you. He makes his way into the room and he grunts as he sees one bed.

Your brows furrowed hearing his rough grunt. You were standing behind him, not able to see the room completely yet. You walked into the surprisingly warm room, the heat seeping into your skin immediately. Finally turning your head to look at him, you follow his gaze to the singular bed sitting in the middle of the room. Your shoulders slump down, knowing it’s going to be a long night. “I’ll take the couch.” you say softly, tone sweet per usual, despite the fight against the many corrupt agents you just had.

Bucky drops his bag onto the floor and strips off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks, his tone gruff and rough around the edges per usual. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

You shrug his response off, tossing your bag on the clearly rough couch. “You’ve had a long night buck, it’s fine.” you insisted, meeting his eyes.

You’ve both had a long night, but clearly his was longer. He was doing most of the work. He tossed and dropped any agent that came your way, despite knowing you could take them. He was covered in light bruises and had dried blood in places you adored.

However, you were fine.

Attempting to prove your point, you took a seat on the couch, the material of it clearly out of date. You stretch your legs out, being the perfect size to fit “comfortably” on it.

“See? Comfy.” you say, forcing a smile onto your lips.

Bucky just stares at you incredulously for a long moment before shaking his head violently as if trying to clear it. He mutters something under his breath, likely something harsh given his tone. He stomps over to the couch and grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to your feet with surprising strength. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt you.

"Stop being fucking stupid."

His voice is surprisingly gentle despite the harsh words. He towers over you, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Without letting go of your wrist, he points to the bed.

"You're not sleeping on this couch. You're tired too."

Your eyes flicker between his, knowing his stubbornness is just as bad as yours. “Okay.” you mutter. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as you agree, finally releasing your wrist. He watches you settle into the bed before he approaches it himself, climbing in on the opposite side. "Try not to kick me in your sleep." He mutters, rolling onto his side facing away from you.

You nod in response, despite knowing he can’t see you. Your body slips under the comforter, a relaxed sigh falling from your lips before reaching over pulling the antique thread, turning the lamp off. “Goodnight Bucky.” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky doesn't respond right away, his breathing slow and steady in the darkness. After a few moments, he mumbles quietly. "Night." His voice is unusually vulnerable in the dark, lacking the usual sharp edges.

The nightfall sets in, the outside city darkening. But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Maybe it was the endless thoughts racing through your head, or the countless nights you had to force yourself to stay awake. You turn over, facing Bucky’s back, his chest slowly rising and falling. His name fell from your lips smoothly, keeping a hushed tone. His body remained still, his back facing you. He inhales slowly, holding his breath as if waiting to see if you'll actually wake him up or if you'll just go back to silence. He doesn't make a sound.

“I’m guessing you’re asleep, but…thank you for today. I know I give you a migraine most of the time but, you never let me come out of these kind of missions hurt…I really am grateful for you. You’re probably not gonna hear this anyway, but I had to get it off my chest.”

Bucky remains absolutely still, barely even seeming to breathe. Your soft whisper hangs in the darkened room. After a moment that stretches uncomfortably long, he shifts slightly, rolling onto his back. Without looking at you, he mutters gruffly, "Don't thank me for doing my job."

Your ears perk up hearing his hushed tone, quickly you retort, “Your job wasn’t to protect me the way you did.”

In the darkness, he turns his head slightly towards you. His expression is probably thoughtful, though you can't see it. His voice comes out in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Would you prefer I let you get yourself killed?" The question carries a hint of irritation, but something else too.

You send him a glare, despite the darkness his baby blues are as vibrant as ever staring at the ceiling.

“Sometimes.”

He wasn’t meant to hear that, it truly wasn’t meant to leave your lips, but it did…and, oh did he catch it quicker than you could regret the words.

His eyes narrow slightly at your whispered admission. He's silent for a long moment, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Finally, he turns his head to look at you, his gaze intense even in the darkness. "And why the fuck would you want that?"

With a shrug of your shoulders, turning your head to meet his eyes, you finally confess.

“You have people that care about you out there, I could never live with myself knowing you died trying to protect me. You know, the other agents…they say, I’m not made for this kind of stuff.”

His expression darkens slightly as you speak softer and softer, almost like you're ashamed. His voice drops lower too, mirroring yours. "So you'd rather get yourself killed than hear them call you a goddamn baby one more time?" He asks sharply, though his voice isn't angry.

You shake your head, letting his words hang heavy in the air for a moment longer. “So you would get a new partner you wouldn’t have to worry so much about. Someone who doesn’t give you a headache every mission.”

His eyes linger on yours for a long moment, searching for something. When he finally speaks, his voice is rougher, his words tinged with a hint of something that sounds almost like... disappointment?

"I don't want a new partner."

Oh.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, his words throwing you way off track. “Why?” You ask, your voice softer than before, almost…vulnerable.

He pauses, his mind racing with reasons he shouldn't tell you. But in the dark, with only you listening, he finds himself answering honestly. "Because they're not you." He says simply, turning his gaze back to the ceiling.

Heat rises to your face, strawberry tint covering your cheeks, his words sending a flutter through your chest. “What’s so special about me Buck? I mean, you always act like you’d rather be anywhere else instead of here…with me.”

His jaw clenches as he hears the uncertainty in your voice, the same uncertainty that makes you hesitate on missions, that makes you second guess yourself. He turns his head to look at you again, his expression serious. "You're the most infuriating person I've ever met," Bucky exhales sharply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "And stubborn as hell." He adds, rolling onto his side to face you fully now. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he stares intensely into your eyes.

"But you're good at your job."

Your eyes widen slightly, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You think so?” You ask sweetly, your tone impossibly softer than before.

His eyes lock with yours, and he finds himself getting drawn in, like he always does when you look at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. He swallows hard, ignoring the strange feeling in his chest.

"You're a better shot than half the men out there,"

His eyes study your features in the moonlight, noting how your expression has softened entirely. He's aware he's probably said too much, gotten too soft - but somehow, it feels right. His voice drops even lower, definitely vulnerable.

"And don't you dare fucking get yourself killed."

The smile lingering on your face grows wider, your eyes never leaving his. “How can I? whether I like it or not, you’ll be there to save me.” You mutter, resting your head against the pillow, getting a better view of his softened features. He lets out a quiet snort, but there's no real annoyance behind it. More like... fondness? God, when does he ever get like this with anyone?

"Damn right I will. Even if it means putting up with your sweet-ass attitude every goddamn day."

You roll your eyes, despite the sweet smile playing on your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment Barnes.” You retort, studying his face for moment too long. You’ve never really looked at him like this. Really looked at him. His steel blue eyes, the stuble covering his sharp jaw, the small dimple when he smiles every so often, his subtle nose scrunches when he talks. He’s perfect. He catches you staring, his gaze lingering on yours for a beat too long. Something unspoken passes between you, a connection that's been building slowly over the months. He clears his throat, breaking the moment.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

———

The sun rises over the city, seeping strongly through the hotel blinds. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Buckys peaceful expression. His lips are parted ever so slightly, and his chest slowly rising, falling just as slow as it risen. For the first time in weeks, you slept, better than you ever had specifically. You let out a content sigh, before rolling out of bed, heading to the bathroom, running a hot shower. Preparing yourself for the day. You and Bucky had to go back to the compound, meaning you had to deal with the group of agents that constantly tore you apart, piece by piece.

You stare in the mirror, taking in your appearance. You didn’t look like the other agents, the other girls in the force were rough around the edges, yet they were so pretty, you were just…you. You swing the door open, dressed in your tactical suit only to meet Bucky’s eyes. Who in which was already dressed and ready to leave.

“Let’s go.”

———

They left the hotel, heading to the car. You tossed your bag in the back and hopped into the passenger seat. The car usually buzzed with energy on these drives, filled with laughter, debates about god knows what, and endless banters. Now, the silence was a thick blanket, suffocating any attempt at conversation. Each mile deepened the palpable tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Every glance felt like a dare, every breath amplified in the quiet.

About halfway into the drive, your leg started bouncing – the nerves were kicking in. You just didn’t have the energy to listen to the agents trash-talk you, especially with Bucky sporting bruises while you barely had a scratch.

He notices your leg bouncing, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He knows how much their words cut you, even when you try to hide it.

He’s always known.

Bucky had overheard the agents’ whispers, their words like tiny needles pricking at his conscience. They spoke of your involvement, their doubts and judgments laced with a thinly veiled disdain. He clenched his jaw, fury simmering beneath his stoic exterior, but he never brought it up. How could he? He didn’t want to burden you, didn’t want to add to whatever weight you were already carrying. So he swallowed his anger and kept silent, the words festering inside him, unsure how to broach the subject without causing more pain.

Without thinking, he reaches over and places a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You glanced at him, then quickly averted your eyes to the passing scenery. "Sorry," you muttered, fighting to still the nervous tremor in your leg.

He squeezes your knee again, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "Don't apologize," he says gruffly, his voice laced with a protectiveness he can't quite hide.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. They're just jealous of what you've got."

You shake your head, a quiet scoff falling from your lips. ”Jealous..” you repeat, voice barely above a whisper. What could they possibly be jealous of? Take Sharon for example, beautiful, tough, skinny. She had the whole package, then there was,

you.

Practically the opposite.

He glances at you, his expression softening. "You," he says simply, his hand still resting on your knee.

"They're jealous of the way you can take a punch and keep moving forward. They're jealous of your heart, even though they don't understand it." He pulls into the compound, the cars and noise immediately overwhelming. He turns to you before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, his eyes serious. "Listen to me," he says, his voice lowering.

"No matter what they say or do today, remember."

The words tumbled out before he could catch them, he hadn't planned to say anything, hadn't even realized the thoughts were there, but suddenly they were spilling from his lips, effortless and raw. Each syllable hung in the air, surprising him as much as they must have surprised you, a confession he didn't know he was ready to make.

“They’re jealous.” you repeated.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips as he nods approvingly. "Damn right they are." He releases your seatbelt, his hand hovering momentarily before dropping away. "Stick by me, yeah? If anyone gives you shit, just look my way. I got your back."

You smile softly, before opening the door grabbing your bags, falling into step beside Bucky.

“Always saving me Barnes.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Someone's gotta," he teases, his arm brushing against yours as you walk. As you enter the compound, the familiar faces turn towards you, whispers and stares immediately filling the air. He feels your tension, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on the small of your back. He guides you through the crowd, his presence a wall of protection between you and the judging gazes.

Steve was waiting at the end of the hall, a knowing look on his face.

Your eyes darted between them, and by the look on Steve’s face, you knew how this was gonna go. "You know what? You guys can catch up. I'm gonna head to my room and crash." You said, leaving no room for argument. You practically sprinted down the hall until you reached your room. You slipped inside, closing the door behind yourself, before collapsing onto the bed.

———

As soon as the door closes, Bucky turns his attention back to Steve. "She's been getting a lot of shit lately," he says, his voice low and even. "I don't like it."

Steve nods, knowing exactly what he’s referring too. He’s not deaf, he hears the way the other agents, including Sharon talk about you. He hates it. You’ve told him numerous time not to say anything but sometimes he can’t bite his tongue. Steve runs a hand through his hair, "She handles it really well," he admits. "Too well sometimes. She won't complain, she won't fight back. She just takes it." He uncrosses his arms, his expression stoic.

"It's like she doesn't care what they say."

They kept at it, rehashing the same points for what felt like an eternity, before Bucky finally announced he was heading to your room. The knock on your door was tentative at first, then a little louder, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a drumbeat. When he didn’t hear anything back, he figured you were asleep, or at least trying to be. He gently pushed the door open, stepping inside and carefully shutting it behind him, as if not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere he imagined you were enveloped in.

He stands there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He can see your silhouette on the bed, hear the soft sounds of your breathing. He walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "Hey," he says quietly, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder.

"You awake?"

You hummed softly, burrowing deeper under the covers and pulling the blanket over your eyes, "I'm sleepy, Buck," you whispered, your voice muffled by the fabric, hoping he'd get the hint and let you drift back to sleep.

He chuckles softly, the sound barely audible. "I figured," he murmurs, his hand lingering on your shoulder. Leaning closer, he whispers conspiratorially, "Had enough of their crap for today, huh?" His voice is gentle, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of concern.

“Just tired.”

He sits there for a moment, watching you pretend to be asleep. His mind races, putting together the pieces of your act. You always do this, retreat into yourself when things get tough. He pulls the blanket down from your face, his eyes searching yours. "Bullshit,"

Your eyes met his, locking in a silent battle of wills, before flickering nervously between the two. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips. "Just let me sulk for a little longer," you mumbled, rolling your eyes, despite the tell-tale blush that was already creeping up your neck, betraying your attempt at indifference.

“You can sulk all you want, but you're not getting out of talking to me," he says firmly, his eyes searching yours. He can see the exhaustion, the frustration, the hurt behind your mask.

You sat up, the blanket falling to your lap. Your eyes, tired yet somewhat, alert, bored into his, a silent command hanging in the air. "Talk," you demanded, the single word laced with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

He leans back, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Why do you let them get to you so much?" he asks bluntly, his voice low and serious. His elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together as he watches you intently.

"I mean, seriously."

His question caught you off guard, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "I don't know," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It never used to bother me, not like this. I'm not sure what changed." The truth was, you were just as baffled as he probably was. It was strange, this sudden wave of insecurity. You used to revel in your appearance, in the way you stood out from the crowd like a vibrant splash of color against a muted background. You embraced being different, even relished it. But now? Now, all you wanted was to blend in, to disappear into the sea of sameness, to be anything but the person you once were.

He studies your face, noticing the way your posture has become more defensive. "When did it start bothering you?" he asks, his voice softer now. He's close enough that he can feel the slight tremble in your hands. "Because I gotta say, it's been eating you up lately."

You broke eye contact, your gaze drifting towards the worn floorboards as you pondered the question, the weight of unspoken insecurities pressing down on you. "It started... when I became your partner," you finally admitted, the words barely above a whisper. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any real humor. "They always said I wasn't a good fit for you, that I was all wrong for Bucky Barnes. Too sweet, too cheerful, too…bright, and somewhere along the way, I started to believe them." The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual confident facade you presented to the world.

You shook your head, gaze darting around the room, desperate to avoid the intensity of his eyes. "Sharon was pretty clear about it," you mumbled, the words laced with a bitter taste. "She said you deserved someone like her. Skinny, beautiful, tough as nails. And she's right, isn't she? Look at you right now, Bucky, going all soft and sentimental on me. It's not a good look."

The words hung in the air, even Bucky didn’t know what to say. His eyebrows furrowed as he processes your words, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before hardening into determination. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to an intense whisper. "First off, Sharon can fuck right off. Second, since when do I give a damn what she thinks I deserve?"

“You don’t. But I do.”

Your admission seemed to resonate within him, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze locked onto yours, an intensity burning in his eyes that made your breath catch in your throat. "And what do you think I deserve?" he asked, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Because from where I'm standing," he continued, his voice thick with sincerity,

"I think I deserve you. All of you."

His confession hit hard, sending a rush of anticipation through your veins. There was no room for hesitation – every part of you had been longing for this moment. You looked into his eyes, a silent question passing between you two. Seeing only desire mirrored back, you surged forward, closing the distance between each other with a desperate urgency. Your lips crashed against his, a collision of pent-up emotions and pure longing.

#fanfic #reading #writers on tumblr #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #sincerelykimii #i love my moots #i love you

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noosayog · 2 years ago

Text

[my first task!] ft. miya atsumu

synopsis: inspired by the series, Old Enough? basically, in Japan, it's common practice to entrust a toddler an errand to perform all by themselves, such as fetching something from the store. sometimes, in a small village or closely knit neighborhood, all the shopkeepers and neighborhood residents are aware of when the toddler will be out and all work together to watch over them and guide them.

wc: 2.6k

“Are ya sure she has to do this today?”

“‘Tsumu, we’ve already done all the preparation. Let’s just let her try, hm?”

He grumbles, but moves to his assigned location at the dining table, where your daughter is already sitting, swinging her legs in anticipation of her favorite Omurice lunch.

You bring the plates of food over to the table and set one down at each of your seats. You give Atsumu a pointed look which he ignores. You clear your throat and give him a hard nudge.

“Ow,” he complains. He gives you one last pleading look which you leave unanswered.

He sighs and recites his scripted lines. “Oh honey, what about the ketchup drawings?” he asks you in monotone.

You tap a finger at your chin, looking up at the ceiling to feign deep thought. “Oh no! I think we ran out of ketchup!” You bring a palm up to cover your mouth, gaping open in dismay.

“No ketchup drawing? How can I possibly eat Omurice without the ketchup drawing?”

“Oh no,” you turn to your daughter. “We can’t have Omurice without ketchup can we?”

“No, we can’t!” your daughter exclaims.

“Well baby, do you think you can go to the store and get some ketchup for us? Just like how you do it when you go with Mommy.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement at the prospect of going out. “Me?”

“Yep, Daddy and I are so busy, we can’t go. Can we rely on you?”

“Sure!” she chirps.

So a few short moments later, you and Atsumu have strapped her little purse on her torso, containing just enough coins to purchase a bottle of ketchup and a card with your phone number on it, just in case. Atsumu laces her shoes up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. You think you see his eyes misting over.

You speak up. “Just to the store we always go to, okay? Mommy’s counting on you!” This was supposed to have been Atsumu’s line, but you can tell that the dam is about to burst so you help him out.

“You’ll do great,” he chokes out. “I’ll see you when you come home with ketchup so Daddy can have his Omurice. Okay?”

She nods, enthusiastic and completely unaware of Atsumu’s turmoil. With that, she’s out the door and Atsumu barely waits one minute before he’s following, sticking to his own plan to trail her on her first errand.

The route has been prepped ahead of time. All the neighbors and the local store owners have been informed of your daughter’s first errand to ensure her success. In addition, all of Atsumu’s teammates, old and new, showed up to guide her along.

So as Atsumu trails behind her toddling figure, hiding comically behind fences and walls, there’s really no need for him to intervene.

She first passess the local cafe, where Bokuto, Hinata, and Sakusa sit at a table strategically located by the open window facing the sidewalk. As she walks by, she recognizes them instantly, straying from her path to the store. Bokuto sits her on his lap while Hinata listens to her babble and Sakusa buys her an apple juice. After a couple minutes of chatting, Sakusa gently pats her and asks, “so why are you out here by yourself?”

“Oh!” she clammors out of Bokuto’s arms, suddenly remembering that she was supposed to be out on a mission. “I’m going to the store to buy ketchup for Mommy and Daddy. They’re counting on me.”

Hinata nods profusely. “You better be off then!”

“You should finish your juice first, though. Adults don’t waste food,” Sakusa tells her.

She nods, happy to sip the remaining juice from the cup, then sets on her way afoot.

The trio at the cafe watch her go, shaking their heads when they notice their setter conspicuously following close behind.

Next is Onigiri Miya.

Well, technically, next was supposed to be the florist on the main street, but the little Miya had seen the street that Onigiri Miya is on and took the turn out of habit. But no matter – you and Atsumu had foreseen this, so a team is at the ready there too.

Suna sits at the counter seat closest to the door to keep watch. When he sees her rounding the corner, he signals Osamu who comes out from behind the counter to greet her at the door.

“Heya, baby,” picking up her easily when she runs into her Uncle’s arms.

“Hi Uncle ‘Samu! Hi Rin-chan!” She greets Suna over Osamu’s shoulder.

Suna grins, “hey stink.”

“‘M not stinky!”

Osamu carries her into the restaurant and deposits her on the counter seat next to Suna’s. He rounds back into the kitchen where he begins shaping a miniature version of her favorite onigiri. She kicks her feet, completely at ease in the restaurant and blissfully forgetful of her task at hand. When the plate is deposited in front of her, she chirps out a quick thank you before digging in.

After chatting Suna up for a bit, Osamu finally cuts in.

“So, what are ya doing out here all by yourself?”

“Dunno!” she giggles.

Suna coughs a bit, giving Osamu a look which Osamu returns pointedly.

“Soooo… you decided to have lunch here without your dad and mom?”

She ponders this for a bit, before lighting up. “Oh yeah! Mommy made Omurice but Daddy forgot to buy the ketchup so I’m here to get it.”

Osamu’s eyes widen comically. “All by yourself?”

She nods sagely. “‘M a big girl now. Mommy is countin’ on me.”

“Well, ya better get going then. Yer silly dad will be waitin’ for ya.”

She agrees, hopping her to her feet. The two follow her to the door to see her off, holding the door open for her walk through. She gets halfway back the way she came when she turns around and grins toothily at the two.

“Thanks for the onigiri, uncle! Love ya!”

Osamu smiles and waves her off. Behind him, Suna holds out his phone, pointing the camera at the little girl’s retreating back, making sure to focus on the suspicious figure donning sunglasses, a mask, and MSBY jackals baseball cap tailing her. He sends it to the group chat warning the next team to watch out for a stalker.

Your daughter finds her way back to the intersection on the main road. She needs to take a left to continue her route to the supermarket. As she stands at the crossroads, she frowns, not quite remembering where she needs to go. She takes a right.

There, she bumps into the legs of Kageyama and Hoshiumi who are stationed at the intersection.

“Sorry,” she starts, craning her neck to get a better look at her obstacles.

“No worries,” Kageyama says, taking a step back.

Hoshiumi then strikes up a conversation with Kageyama, reading out the practiced lines.

“Hey, we need to go to the supermarket right?”

Your daughter’s ears perk up at that.

“Yeah. It’s that – ” Kageyama points dramatically “– way.”

“Ohhhh, I see,” Hoshiumi puts a hand up to theatrically mimic covering his eyes from the sun and squints the way Kageyama is pointing.

Your daughter nods to herself at that and turns around to walk in the correct direction this time.

When she gets far enough away, Hoshiumi shows Kageyama the text in the group chat.

“Stalker?” Kageyama reads, scrunching his face. “Should we –”

“Nah,” Hoshiumi cuts him off and points at the stalker in question, going the same way the little girl just went.

“Ah.” Tobio understands, noticing the peek of dyed blond hair from under the baseball cap.

At last, she arrives at the grocery store. This is familiar ground, so she wanders into the store and meanders the aisles, getting distracted by the array of colors in the snack section. She’s running her hands along all the biscuit options, contemplating how she can fit all the items she wants in her two hands when she hears someone clear their throat from above her.

This time, it’s Aran who waves a gentle hello to her.

“Aran-kun!” she exclaims, forgetting about the snacks and running up to hug his legs.

He chuckles and pats her head.

“Hi there. Are ya looking for something in particular?”

Once again, she thinks. She’s sure there must be a reason she’s in the store but can’t quite remember.

“I think so?”

“Hm, okay. Wanna go shopping with me until you remember what yer looking for?”

“M’kay!”

She grabs Aran’s hand and swings them as he guides her to the aisle with the condiments. There, she inspects the colorful array of sauces, eyes sparkling. Aran pretends to look for his own items, hovering a hand over the ketchup bottles and waving his fingers in the general area until she remembers. Her eyes hone in on the red bottle and she remembers her poor father, still unable to eat his lunch without ketchup.

“Aran-kun! I’m here for ketchup!”

“‘That so? Well, here ya go, then.” He picks up the bottle of the brand he knows you use and plops it right into her hands.

“Not this one,” she shakes her head. “Mommy wants that one.”

She points at the bottle next to the one Aran grabbed. They’re identical.

Unbothered, Aran switches out the bottle in her hands with the one she wants. “Sorry ‘bout that. All good now?”

“Yep!”

“Ready to go check out, then?”

She nods. He continues to walk her to the registers. Once the lines are in sight, she lets go of his fingers and darts over to the nearest line. But not before bowing a polite thank you to Aran.

At the register, she greets the attendant watching him scan the bottle and showing her the total amount owed.

“That’ll be 200 yen.”

She reaches into her purse and pours out all the coins onto the counter, not entirely sure what she needs to offer. The cashier picks out a few coins and deposits the rest back into her coin purse, allowing her to tuck the coin purse back into her bag and zip the purse securely before asking if she wants a bag.

“Yes, please!”

With a plastic baggie in hand, she makes her way to the exit. Aran catches her before and tucks a small box of pocky into her bag, pushing a finger to his lips and winking at her. “Keep it a secret from yer mom. Get home safe!”

She mimics his gesture and nods. With one last bear hug to Aran’s legs, she’s off.

Outside the store, Kita waits for her. She spots his white hair easily. Of all her uncles (excluding Osamu, of course), Kita is her favorite. She runs over to him, bag swinging carelessly behind her. Kita catches her and gives her a little spin before setting her back on the ground.

“Hiya, Uncle Shin!”

“Hey there. What’cha got in there?” he asks, pointing at the bag.

“Ketchup! Daddy forgot to buy more and he can’t eat Omurice without it, so Mommy’s countin’ on me to get it.”

Kita rests a hand on her head. “That’s real impressive of ya, to come to the store to get it all by yourself.”

She glows in his praise, rare but genuine.

“Going home now, Uncle Shin.”

“Alright,” he responds. “I need something from that way, so I’ll walk ya part ways.”

She beams and follows Kita in the direction of your home.

“Uncle Shin?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“Can I eat my pocky? Aran-kun bought it for me.”

He crouches down to her eye level. “Can I have some?” he asks seriously.

“Yeah!”

“Then, alright. But let’s go sit down at that bench over there, okay? It’s rude to eat and walk.”

“Okay!”

So the two take a detour, sitting at the bench to watch the birds hobble by while sharing the box of strawberry pocky. A certain stalker watches in envy from behind the trees.

Once the box is depleted, Kita wipes her fingers down with some wet wipes he keeps in his pocket and tosses out the trash. They continue on their way, Kita sticking with her until they pass the confusing intersection (where Kageyama and Hoshiumi bow slightly at the sight of Kita) and the cafe (where the MSBY trio nod in acknowledgement).

When the house is only a couple more feet away, Kita once again crouches down. “Alright, I gotta go my own way from here. Do ya think ya can make it home all by yourself?”

“Yep, thanks Uncle Shin!”

“Sure. I’m proud of ya, bug.”

She squirms a bit, overwhelmed by the praise she gets from her favorite uncle. The ketchup bounces in its bag by her side as she skips all the way back home.

After fishing out her own key and unlocking the front door, Atsumu is there to greet her at the genkan, scoping her up and squeezing her tight, the ketchup bag forgotten on the floor.

“There’s my girl!”

“Daddy!” she laughs.

“Welcome home,” you greet, tummy warming at the sight of your two Miyas.

“Mommy!” she squirms in Atsumu’s arms signaling for him to let her down. He obliges and she picks up the plastic bag to wave in your face. “I got the ketchup! Now daddy can eat his lunch!”

“Wow, great job! And all by yourself!”

You usher her over to the table as she babbles about her day.

“I saw Shoyo-chan, Bokkun, Omi-chan, Uncle ‘Samu, Rin-chan, Aran-kun, and Uncle Shin too!”

“Wow, sounds like you had a great day. Did you have fun?”

“Yep!”

Atsumu, who has since changed out of his stalker gear, slumps into his seat at the table, back to grumbling about his cold omurice and how it would’ve still been hot if he had quickly gone with his daughter to get it.

You throw him a bone by asking your daughter, “Did you miss Daddy on your trip?”

“What do you mean?”

You almost choke out a laugh; kids are ruthless sometimes.

“Why would I miss Daddy? He was there the whole time.”

Atsumu sputters. “What do ya mean? I was at home waiting for ya the whole time.”

“Daddy’s a liar,” she whispers in your ear. “I saw him, but he was wearin’ some weird clothes. Like covering his face.”

You break into a fit of giggles. “Your daddy’s really silly, isn’t he?”

Atsumu can hear everything. “Hey!”

“Daddy was following you because he was just a bit worried about you going by yourself. But he’s really proud of you. Right?”

Atsumu rounds the table to crouch besides your daughter’s seat. “Yeah. But you did so well. I’m so proud of ya.”

Her eyes light up at the praise. She throws her arms around his neck and wiggles in her seat a bit.

“Well, great job and since you got the ketchup for us, all your favorite uncles can now join us for lunch too.”

At that, each of today’s helpers emerge from the kitchen holding their own plates of Omurice, all undecorated. You figure it might be a good time to introduce her to Kageyama and Hoshiumi too, but she’s distracted by Kita and Osamu offering their omelets to her to decorate with the ketchup.

As she goes around the table and draws ketchup hearts and stars on each omelet, you wander over to Atsumu’s side whose eyes are getting watery again, watching her brag to each of them that the ketchup they’re about to eat is her ketchup.

“What’s wrong, ‘Tsumu?”

“Nothin,” he hastily swipes at his eyes. “‘M not crying.”

“I never said you were,” you say gently. You wind your arm around his waist and lean into him, rubbing circles into his back. His body closes around you instinctively.

“She’s just growing up so fast, ya know.”

“I know.”

“Soon, she won’t need me – us – anymore.”

“Aww, ‘Tsumu. Yeah, she’ll grow up but…”

He looks at you when you trail off.

You reach up to whisper in his ears. “We could always just make another one.”

#noos writes #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq fluff #hq imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu miya x reader #hq atsumu

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diamonddaze01 · 7 months ago

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[12:38 AM]

Pairing: bsk x f!reader | wc: 1.7k warnings: crying, reader is overworked! a/n: this was 100000% inspired by @tusswrites // lowkey i need seungkwan to yell at me when i overwork myself lmao

You’re on your third hour in the library, hunched over your laptop and surrounded by a mountain of research articles, notes, and half-finished slides. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, paired with the almost oppressive silence of the empty library, only serves to amplify the tension coiling inside you. Your gaze flickers to the clock on the laptop screen—12:38 AM. Tomorrow’s presentation looms over you like a storm cloud, the ticking clock counting down to when you’ll have to stand in front of your professor, exhausted and empty, and pray you can keep it together long enough to pass.

Beside you, Seungkwan shifts in his seat, his eyes darting between you and the neglected water bottle he placed by your laptop hours ago. He had insisted on accompanying you to the library after noticing you hadn’t stopped talking about this assignment all day—ever since you got it in the middle of class, you’d been laser-focused, muttering to yourself, planning out every detail. You could tell it worried him. He’d even made a quick run to grab snacks and water, placing them strategically in front of you, like little tokens of support. But in your mind, you don’t have time for snacks or breaks. There’s too much to get through, and the pressure is almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “You haven’t touched any of the snacks I bought. At least have a few sips of water.”

You shake your head, not even glancing at him. “I’m fine. I need to focus.”

He frowns. “It’s been hours since you ate anything. And don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped lunch too.”

You sigh, fingers still flying over the keys. “Seungkwan, I don’t have time for this right now.”

He doesn’t back down, crossing his arms and leaning in closer. “You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate. Come on—just five minutes. I’ll time it for you.”

“Seungkwan,” you bite out, tension lacing your voice. “Please.”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender but doesn’t move, clearly unconvinced. Minutes pass, with him silently watching your every move, his concern palpable. You try to ignore him, hyper-focused on your screen, but his gaze feels heavy.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks up again. “Look, I get that this is important. But you can’t push yourself like this. You’ll be completely drained by morning, and then how are you supposed to do your best?”

“Oh my god, Seungkwan,” you snap, hands freezing over the keyboard as you shoot him a glare. “Can you just… stop? This is important. I don’t need you hovering over me like some kind of health monitor!”

He blinks, clearly taken aback. Hurt flashes in his eyes, and he swallows before nodding. “Oh. Okay.” He stands up, quietly gathering his things and slinging his bag over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Good luck.”

WHe grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, the sharp echo of his footsteps leaving an empty void between you. The silence he leaves behind feels louder than anything he could have said. You try to turn back to your laptop, but the guilt, thick and heavy, wraps around your chest. You shouldn’t have snapped like that. He was just trying to help. Your fingers hover over the keys, but nothing feels right. You feel stuck—stuck in your frustration and your guilt, as if you can’t do anything but wallow in the mess you've made.

Minutes drag by. The longer you sit there, the more the guilt gnaws at you, until it becomes too much to ignore. Without thinking, you push your laptop away and bury your face in your hands, trying to hold it all together. You don’t even know why you feel so overwhelmed. It's just a presentation, just an assignment... but your heart races, your breath shortens, and the pressure of it all feels suffocating.

"I'm sorry," you whisper through your hands, but you don’t even know who you're apologizing to. Yourself? Seungkwan? The quiet library? "I’m sorry, please don’t hate me."

Before you can collect yourself enough to go find him, the sound of footsteps breaks the stillness. Your head snaps up, and there he is—Seungkwan, standing in the doorway, holding a can of Celsius in one hand and a small protein bar in the other. His eyes soften when he sees you, and without a word, he places the drink and snacks on the table beside you. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch gentle, reassuring.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The tears spill over, hot and fast, and you’re suddenly choking on your own sobs. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry," you whisper over and over, barely able to breathe through the flood of emotion. "Please don’t hate me."

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. The warmth of his embrace, the steady heartbeat against your cheek—it’s more than you deserve, and yet it’s exactly what you need. The first tear slips down your cheek, followed by another, and then you’re sobbing, clutching onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

“Shh,” he murmurs softly, rubbing your back in gentle circles. “I would never hate you, baby. It’s okay.”

His words feel like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. You cry harder, the weight of the stress, the exhaustion, and the guilt all pouring out in choked sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just—there’s so much to do, and I—” Your words dissolve into hiccups as you cling to him, tears soaking into his favorite sweater, the one he wears all the time, the one that smells like home.

He doesn’t let go, holding you as tightly as if you’re the one keeping him steady. His fingers trace gentle circles on your back, and he whispers, “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just stressed, and I get it.” He glances around, noticing the curious looks from other students. When one person stares a little too long, he shoots them a sharp look, muttering, “What are you staring at?”

You manage a weak laugh through your tears, feeling a strange warmth in your chest despite everything. But then you notice the mascara streaks and the growing damp patch on his sweater, and you pull back with a fresh wave of panic. “Oh no. No, no, no—Seungkwan, this is your favorite sweater, and now it has my snot and mascara all over it!”

He lets out a soft chuckle, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Baby, it’s fine,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s just a sweater.”

“But you love this sweater!” you sniffle, fighting back another round of tears. “I—this is your favorite, and now I’ve ruined it—”

“Hey, stop that,” he says, gently wiping the tear tracks from your face with his thumbs. “It’s okay. I can wash it, alright? Let it all out; I’m here.” His voice is so tender, so steady, and it only makes you cry harder.

He holds you tighter, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering little reassurances, letting you release all the tension and guilt into his shoulder, sweater be damned. “I’m here. Just let it out. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

You’re sniffling and hiccuping, clinging to him as you let yourself fall apart in his arms. With every gentle touch, he brings you back to a place where you can breathe again, where the overwhelming chaos of your mind finally begins to settle.

When you pull back, eyes red and puffy, he just smiles, reaching for your hand. “Do you wanna go home?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, sniffling. “I… I can’t. I have so much to do.”

“Alright.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Then we’re staying. Together.”

You look at him, blinking through blurry eyes. “Wait, you’re staying? Seungkwan, it’s past 1 AM. You don’t have to do that.”

He just raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual sass creeping back into his voice. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my girlfriend to study alone in a library at 1 AM? If you’re not gonna let me nag at you, at least let me stay and keep you company.”

You can’t stop the small, grateful smile that tugs at your lips. He settles back into the chair beside you, pulling your laptop towards him and scanning your notes. “Alright, so what’s the first thing we need to work on?”

He’s right there beside you, the same soft hum of his voice providing background noise as he helps you with the presentation. Hours pass, and time feels less like an enemy with him there, guiding you through it with gentle corrections and quiet encouragement. The soft glow of the laptop screen reflects in his eyes as he leans over your shoulder, pointing out a flaw in the data and offering a suggestion with that familiar, sarcastic edge you know so well.

At some point, he shoves a bottle of water at you, eyebrows raised in that way that makes you roll your eyes, even though you know what’s coming. You don’t protest this time, just take it from him and drink, the coolness of it grounding you.

He watches you for a moment, satisfied with your compliance, before a small, quiet smile curls up at the corners of his lips. It’s not loud or teasing, just... there, like a secret between you two.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he.

But the unspoken understanding between you feels clearer than it ever has. And for the first time in hours, you find yourself thinking, maybe... it’ll be okay.

Seungkwan just keeps working, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he goes over your notes. And for the rest of the night, there’s a quiet comfort in the way he’s simply there, letting you work, giving you space, but still keeping you grounded.

You don’t need to say anything. His presence is enough.

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l-in-the-light · 10 months ago

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Trafalgar Law and his rare friendships (Law and closeness series part 4)

Let's venture into less explored territory. And we will start with no one else but our beloved Kinemon!

They met at Punk Hazard, Kinemon doing some rampage and Law was sent by Caesar to stop him. At first he cut him up into three pieces apparently, but I think Kin is colorizing here a lot.

Because let's take a look at his awesome feats. He might be cut into pieces, but he's still a decent threat despite that! I think Law started by cutting Kinemon in half, then got surprised he still tried to fight him, and then he cut off his head as well only to realize that even the head alone is probably bouncing around as well! So he caught it, but in the meantime the legs already run somewhere else and the torso escaped Law on his way back to lab somehow which is where Brook finds it later. And Law was probably like "screw it, I don't have time for this" and left it be for now. But I bet it wasn't "letting his torso to rot, and feed legs to wild beasts" like Kinemon claims. After all his legs turned out to be just fine lol. And we know by now that Kin's legs just run off on their own aimlessly, so this is probably what actually happened.

And this is how Strawhats find Kin. I guess Kinemon was still causing a lot of trouble despite being only a head. Maybe he tried to bite Law? Anyway, he must have been really *mad* to cut him up into that many tiny pieces. I think Kinemon was behaving like a little shit. It's important to mention Law never did that to anyone else before.

And he attempts to do the same to Tashigi who is also trying to bounce around while being cut in half.

Yeah, Kinemon and Law started off on a great note there. But I think Kin earned Law's respect for that, because this is probably what Kin shouted at him while being cut into smaller and smaller pieces:

And Law shoved his head into some closed off room, instead of giving it to Caesar. I think he was trying to spare him and hoping he can restore him back later on.

As soon as they both end up on Strawhats ship, Kinemon already treats Law with respect! It's no longer "that warlord" but "Law-dono".

It seems that despite what Kinemon says, Law actually earned his respect back there already. He even tried to catch his name or the title to know who he is.

It's so sweet he's already asking Law to give him a ride to Zou and before he can get an answer Luffy butts-in haha.

He's always listening carefully to Law's plan in Dressrosa and keeps closely with his assigned group. And yes, it's implied that Law was the one who strategically seperated the groups.

Kin is the first one to raise a concern to stick to the plan and not waste any time. He understands the stakes but won't venture off on his own, instead making sure the whole group knows what to do. That's because they left before Law finished going over the plan again. Kinemon took it on himself to make sure "they got the memo", so to speak.

Kin's also the one who seems most worried about Law, probably because when he almost rescued him he realized in what kind of terrible state he was. "Answer me!!" there is a lot of concern there he didn't show for any of the Strawhats yet, but he did for Law.

His idea to distract and cause some chaos by disguising himself was also something Law would approve of.

On Barto's ship Kin is already taking care of the dangers ahead of others, because he's aware his friends are still recoving from their injuries.

Kinemon never forgets that Strawhats and Law are in alliance and are two seperate crews. He asks Law specifically for help as well, clearly surprising him with that request. Kin's amazement seems to be very genuine and he is very polite in how he asks for help.

And then alliance happens, they bump fists together I bet Law must have braced himself for it and Luffy declares "Being in alliance means we're friends!". This is the moment Luffy defines what Kinemon and Law's relationship is supposed to be from now on: friendship. And of course Law is annoyed about that, it should be up to him to decide stuff like that! Luffy doesn't care though, pushing Law's boundaries further for him.

Law already takes on his role in the alliance, assuring Kin they will be safe in his submarine and no one will be able to suddenly attack them on his watch. Now this is a turn of 180 degrees, Law takes them as his own personal responsibility from now on, gives emotional reassurance and basically saying "count on me" but with different words. He already succumbed to the fate Luffy bestowed upon him.

And take a look at this. There is team Luffy, team Nekomamushi, Team Inuarashi and Team Kinemon. Do you know what that means? Yes, Law handed the leadership over the group to Kinemon! Meanwhile himself taking the role of a support and protection. And this trend will continue all the way in Wano as well.

Apparently he visited Kinemon at the castle ruins every single day. Most likely worried about his health condition.

Law apologized immediately to Kinemon the moment the other asks what's going on. Even takes the blame for himself, but also takes extra time to reassure Kin that his part of the plan is unaffected and no one knows about the samurais. I think it's implied again that it was Law who seperated the tasks in each group meanwhile taking a supervisor role himself. He told Kinemon to find Akazaya samurais and they had a whole operation going on in the background with gathering supplies of weapons and food, bit by bit, while officially putting the blame on some third party. Knowing Kinemon he wouldn't be smart enough to think of it this way, so Law at the very least helped him organize stuff. Besides we don't see Kinemon running around and making sure everything works out: that's Law actually, checking up with all the groups and resolving any potential crisis situations (like when he warned Sanji of trouble and took it on himself to lead the whole group to safety). Besides we have Sanji's words for proof when Law apologized to Kinemon: "What kind of shoddy operation are you running, Law?!" which is pretty direct in pointing out who the actual mastermind is behind the Wano's battle.

Seeing how Kin also wasn't the smartest at reading the coded picture message about the raid, I think it was originally Law's idea as well that the message should be some sort of code only people involved would understand. The raid picture also mentions meeting up at a port specifically, and that seems to be a reoccuring point plan in every of Law's plans ever since Rocky PORT Incident. Even in Dressrosa and Punk Hazard the chosen meeting points for all seperated groups were told to be specific ports.

When it turns out there was a traitor in the midst of their core team, it's Law who seems to have taken it on himself to dig up information from Hawkins. Interestingly enough every last samurai arrives for the raid despite that every single bridge in the country had been destroyed. I have no evidence but I think it's likely Law helped all those people travel to the "true" meeting spot. After all we didn't see him for days before the raid, and while many fans believed Law turned into a snitch, the raid itself denies it: Law was from the very beginning to the very end on the alliance's side. But then why didn't he take credit for what he did to make the raid a success? Well, he didn't take any credit at all before either, giving it all to Kinemon, so why would he start to take it for himself suddenly?

Here Law rescues the samurais, scolding them for underestimating the sea. Doesn't it look similar to you? Law is rising them up just like Oden did on his execution day. This symbolically proves Law is the actual person carrying the whole battle operation on his back. Just like his full name, Trafalgar Waterloo, should have hinted us all along. His reactions to all the others discussing what's happening are also very telling - Law's the only one not surprised that samurais aren't there yet, that there is a traitor, not even surprised that Kid is there. But he is taken aback about news of Big Mom and Jinbei, because that's some wild cards he didn't know anything about before.

Even though Law protests his submarine isn't samurais garrison, it's pretty clear who samurais themselves think runs their plan in reality. And worthy to notice here: Law no longer calls Kinemon by his full name. It's "Kin" from now on. And how many people did we ever see Law using such an affectionate name for before? With him you're either "something-ya" or a full name basis. Kin is literally the only exception. You can't see it as anything else but affectionate. Throughout Wano they became really close friends.

And of course Law saves Kinemon's skin by coming up with a backup plan on the fly and even decides he will carry the samurais to the back entrance of the island on his submarine. He also allows Kinemon to take the full credit, not really expecting any gratitude. He just sits there in the background, letting others take the spotlight.

And this is a good moment to remind us of what Sengoku told Law about love. It should be unconditional, which means you don't expect anything in return for your help. Law usually operates on "favour for a favour" basis or impersonal alliance level. But in this "alliance" he doesn't even want the credit, doesn't expect anything in return, and breaks his own rule of not calling people in affectionate ways. And does he even get anything for himself from this alliance besides the rise in his own bounty?

Imo there's only one possible conclusion here: Law accepted the condition of the alliance Luffy set up all the way back in Zou, it's supposed to be a friendship. Law indeed fullfilled that condition, he truly became friends with Kin. Of course he still wouldn't admit openly that they're friends, but like always with Law, we need to actually look at his actions and subtext. This friendship wouldn't have happened if friendship with Luffy didn't happen first! After the raid Law doesn't stay at the shogun's palace and instead stays with the ships at the port, but I bet you anything Kinemon ran to him at least once to tell him how grateful he was for his help.

So that's one confirmed friendship of Law we see in the series (besides the one he has with Luffy, but I elaborated on that one all the way back in part 2). The other friendships we can see in the series is that with Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, and Wolf in Law's novel. We know that Law created Hearts Pirates together with them, he doesn't consider Hearts to be his own creation, it's theirs as much as it's Law's. That friendship started off on a sour ground, Penguin and Shachi were bullying Bepo and Law saved him. But they quickly became friends and Law's strength and attitude earned their deepest respect. Penguin and Shachi sometimes allow themselves very cheeky comments ("Captain! You're so sexy now!"), they're also slightly older than him, but despite that they have really big respect for Law and always listen to him, despite sometimes complaining ("Captain got carried away" or "stop him Bepo!!"). They know each other well and as teens they spent a lot of late nights just talking together. They would sacrifice their lives for Law and Law would do the same for them, but he's also not beyond sending them to safety instead and taking all the risk on himself. They often shower Law in compliments, almost like they know he has low self-esteem, but then they know him for 13 years already, of course they would be best friends at this point and know that stuff about him (about his touching trauma probably as well).

Bepo is the only one privileaged with any physical affection, he is Law's safe haven, the last one he allowed himself to keep. The main Hearts also know of Law's past and his full name, as well as the fact he is a D. Of course they also started doing those silly power rangers-like poses when Law introduces his crew and I bet you anything it's a nod to Sora Warrior of the Sea. They're all fanboying the comics together. Law is probably slightly more affectionate with his Hearts than anyone else (which in this case means he allows himself to be a bit more open, but he still keeps some distance from them), but we can see he still acts like a leader for them, trying his best to earn the respect he received. But we also see him worrying about Bepo a lot in Wano when the mink ate a poisoned fish. He almost threw his own raid plan out of the window just because Bepo asked to not leave him alone; clearly they are his firstmost priority. Too bad we don't have that many of their interactions to analyze.

And then we have his friendship with the old man Wolf, inventor from North Blue, who took Law in (spoilers ahead for Law's novel!). At first their relations are mostly "favour for a favour" kind, something that Law knows well because he tends to operate on same basis. So, Law is allowed to stay at Wolf's place if he finds a job and helps with chores and testing the inventions. They take turns preparing the meals. Everything changes when Wolf has an unfortunate accident and Law saves his life. Wolf then asks for a friendship and Law thinks to himself that he can't really refuse a request from someone who doesn't usually do "friendships", he feels honoured with that trust. Wolf still acts as their mentor but it feels more like they became a family. Law is very grateful to Wolf for standing in defense of Penguin and Shachi. Wolf is also the one who teaches young Law how to be a captain and puts it into his head that he needs to take responsibility at all times. In general Wolf acts rather cold and rough, but always shows a kind heart when any of them needs it, and I bet Law took on his habits because that feels a lot like how Law himself acts on many occassions.

Wolf definitely became some sort of a rolemodel for him, but there were also few occassions when Law allowed himself to say some really spoiled and cheeky things to him (like: you do the dishes from now on). Law also helps Wolf make a tough decision: to resign from taking responsibility for his son's actions and not to kill him with his own hands, he literally stops his effort by saying "Family shouldn't kill each other". At the end Wolf gives them a partying gift: a yellow submarine, and encourages Law to go out to seas to look for freedom and experience life as he wants. Even 3 years later both of them think of each other fondly, implying that maybe one day Heart Pirates will return to share stories about their adventures.

That's all the canon provides us. Law generally keeps to himself, but in Law's novel he doesn't seem to have any problem to make friendships, every person he saves becomes eventually his friend, which really gives one more argument that there's no way Luffy would be the exception to that rule. But it becomes clear that the older Law gets the more reserved he becomes and doesn't seek out friendships. He probably wouldn't have perceived Kinemon as his friend if not for the condition of the alliance Luffy applied. And this begs to ask about the elephant in the room: why? Why is he that reserved and why did he allow himself to accept Kinemon as friend in the end? I think he felt it's okay to become friends with Kinemon, because he's a samurai thrugh and through. Even if they win and Kin lives, Law would leave Wano and probably never see him again. I guess that made the decision easier on him to some degree.

I have some ideas about possible reasons why Law avoids any new friendships or affectionate bonds with people and instead tries as much as he can to keep it impersonal. He clearly can be a caring and dedicated friend and I don't think his trauma is the only reason why he avoids people. Because there's no reason anymore (after defeating Doffy and Kaido) to not openly admit he made new friends. I will take a closer look at his possible reasons in the next post.

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #kinemon #law's light novel #one piece meta #next part will be probably the last one for now #at least till we get more new sources with Law #it will be exciting to confront my observations with some new appearances of Law #I mean I could do movies but they don't always stick with facts for example in Stampede Law carries Robin no problem #but other than that is only ever touched by Bepo and Chopper #seems he is 100% okay with touch from animals and minks #still movies are often inconsistent that's too bad because they're very fun #One Piece Red is great I could watch it over and over again #I still wonder what's up with Kinemon's legs running on it's own in Wano because I don't think we heard the true reason for that yet #I got some asks I promise I will get to them soon one is partially answered in this post #Law and PTSD #Law and friendships

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achilles-rage · 11 months ago

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Good Luck Charm: Chapter 7

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: the weeks pass and you and evan get closer, hanging out more and more outside of the library. you try to leave the library early one day, but when evan pouts about it, you agree to let him go get groceries with you. then, you go for a drive with him one night.

word count: 3.9k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: the way i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this. i have nothing else to say. thank you so much for all the kind words so far!! i'm really loving writing this fic!<33

warnings: no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader, inexperienced!reader, evan being the only man ever<3

You continue to hang out with Evan for a few weeks, nothing much else happening but quick kisses and stolen glances. You’ve begun to hang out with Evan outside of the library; going to different restaurants and going on walks around campus, but you still haven’t gone to each other’s places. Not that he doesn’t want to. He’s been itching to get his hands on you, but because he’s letting you set the pace, and you’re still almost as nervous as the first day he kissed you, he holds back.

Your assignment is practically forgotten by now, as you both spend more time talking to each other in the library than actually doing any work. It doesn’t matter much; you’ve gotten a lot more done than most people in your class, but you’re still not completely done.

Tonight, you plan to get groceries, but Evan puts up such a fight when you tell him you have to leave the library early that you’re now forced to drag him around the grocery store with you. You almost give in to him when he complains, but knowing you’re running out of food in your fridge, you know you can’t put it off any longer. At least he agrees to drive you there, meaning you don’t have to lug your groceries a couple of blocks back to your apartment.

“You go grocery shopping with a list?” he exclaims as you pull up the note on your phone. You turn your head slowly to look at him, blinking as you take in his words.

“You- you don’t write a grocery list?” You’re in disbelief. How else are you supposed to shop? How else would you know what you need?

“Why would I?” he asks, a hand on the shopping cart as you push it around the produce aisles, picking up some fruits and vegetables on your list.

“To plan out your meals? Write down what you’re running out of?” you explain, and you can’t help but laugh softly at his words. It’s such a boy thing to say, you think.

“I have a meal plan for football. I basically just get the same things every week.” he murmurs, shrugging as he follows you around the store. You bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“Let me guess, chicken and rice? Maybe some broccoli?” you tease, laughing louder when he looks down at you with furrowed brows, and you realize that you’re right.

“Why would I need anything else?” he says, pouting slightly as you laugh at him. Your eyes soften at his pout and you give him a soft smile as you try not to laugh anymore.

“Some people like having a variety, Ev.” you tell him, rolling your eyes at the fact that he really eats like how you’ve heard some student athletes eat.

He can’t help but smile at your nickname for him. He wants you to say it again, but he knows it would be weird if he were to ask you to.

You make your way around the store, going through your list, which you have strategically written in order of how you walk around the store. The slight pout has made its way back onto his face, upset that you’re focused more on your list than him, but he keeps following you around the store, making jokes every now and then.

You’re almost done when you pass by a big display of cookies. Evan stops and grabs one of the large boxes, chuckling softly as he holds it out to you.

“Do you remember these cookies? I used to beg my mom to get them, but she stopped buying them because I always snuck them when she wasn’t looking and ate the entire box in less than a week.” he tells you, an amused smile plastered to his face. You smile at his story, but shake your head, telling him you’d never had them. He scoffs, and throws the box towards the cart, telling you that you just had to buy them, but the box misses the cart. It bounces back towards the display, which causes the top few rows to topple down, the sound echoing through the store.

He smiles sheepishly as you bury your face in your hands, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment as everyone around you whips their heads around at the noise. He laughs awkwardly, picking up the box he threw and putting it in the cart. He stands still for a minute, but seeing a few people still looking at him makes him drop down and pick up another box, gently placing it back on the display. He quickly walks over to you, your face still hidden in your hands, and puts his arms on either side of you to push the cart away.

You follow him, too embarrassed to even think of the way he has you trapped between his body and the cart. You take your hands away from your face once he navigates you out of the aisle.

“I thought you played football, you can’t even throw cookies into the cart?” you mumble, biting your lip. He smiles awkwardly, making his way to the checkout.

“You make me nervous, princess.” he teases softly, his face still flushed in embarrassment. Your eyes widen as you notice he’s on his way to the self-checkout.

“I still have a few things on my list.” you tell him quietly, looking up at him as he keeps you between his arms.

“We need to get out of here right now.” he whispers, noticing the worker that’s currently giving him the death glare, having seen the entire thing. You can’t help but laugh, which makes him laugh as well. He helps you bag all your groceries, and then you quickly make your way to the exit, both of you mumbling a quick “sorry” as you pass the worker.

“You really don’t have to carry all the groceries up.” you tell him, letting out a soft laugh as you watch him try to carry all your bags in his hands. He shakes his head with a grunt, standing in place as he waits for you to lead the way up to your apartment.

“I got it, princess. I’m gonna carry them.” You sigh, shaking your head with a smile as you make your way up to your apartment, knowing he won’t let you take a bag even if you tried. Once you get to your front door, you unlock it, then turn to take the bags from him. He shakes his head, scoffing as he pushes past you and into your apartment.

“I can make it a few more steps. Look at me, I can handle it.” he teases you over his shoulder as he places the bags on your kitchen counter. He turns back to you, striding over to you with a smirk. You fight back a smile, shaking your head, and wrap your arms around his neck when he gets to you.

“Thank you.” you say softly as you tilt your head to the side, keeping your eyes on him.

“I think I’m gonna need a better thank you than that, princess.” he murmurs as he leans down to meet your lips, putting his hands on your soft hips and pulling you flush against him.

You smile into the kiss, rising onto your toes so he doesn’t have to bend down as much and weaving one hand into the hair on the back of his head. He pushes you back against the counter, raising a hand to your jaw and tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth and pushes himself harder against you.

You tilt your head back as his lips move down to your neck, nipping and sucking gently, which causes you to shiver. He lets out a soft chuckle as you react to him, feeling his jeans get tighter as he feels your plush belly and chest against his torso. You tense slightly as you feel his hard length against your stomach, and you pull back suddenly, feeling your nerves coming back.

“I have to put my groceries away.” you mumble in a daze, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He groans softly, giving you another quick kiss as he keeps you pressed against the counter.

“Come on. They can wait, can’t they?” he says in a teasing tone, licking his lips as he takes in your puffy lips and blown pupils.

“I have frozen stuff.” you trail off, looking towards the groceries. As much as you want to keep going, you can’t help the dread that’s filling every inch of your body. He’s so attractive, and he’s made it very clear that he’s experienced. Even though deep down you know it doesn’t really matter, you’re still a little worried about not being able to keep up. He senses your nervousness, and runs his thumb across your cheek to try to help ease your nerves.

“I guess I’ll let you do that.” he says in a low tone, giving you a small smile. His smile widens as he sees you smile back, then traces his fingers down from your cheek to your collarbone, his eyes following their path. “I’ll see you later?”

You nod, biting your lip. He must be getting a little frustrated with you, you think, but he never tries to push you any further, and you’re glad. He backs away from you begrudgingly, and your arms drop back down to your sides. He leans forward and gives you one last kiss with a hand placed softly on your cheek.

“Do you want me to walk you out?” He shakes his head, waving you off.

“Put your groceries away, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow.” he says, giving you a wink as he opens your front door, letting his eyes travel down your figure once more before he closes the door.

You let out a sigh, turning to put your groceries away, glad your roommate isn’t here to witness this. She’s had enough fun teasing you about how nervous you get around him, and you really don’t want her to see it in person.

A few nights later, you’re sitting on the couch with your roommate, half watching a reality show she has on, when you get a text.

Evan: Wanna go for a drive?

You smile at your screen, replying to him quickly before you get up and go to your room to change. You put on a hoodie and some jean shorts, then go back into the living room, trying to fight the smile making its way onto your face as he replies.

Evan: I’ll be there in 15, princess.

“Where you going so late?” your roommate teases as she tears her eyes from the screen to look at you with a smirk. She already knows exactly who you’re going out with; she knows that look on your face.

“I’m going for a drive with Evan.” you say sheepishly, sitting back down in your spot as you wait for him, your eyes making their way to the tv. She raises a brow, her smirk widening.

“Right, a drive. Okay.” she trails off, looking back over at the tv, the smirk not dropping from her face. Your eyes widen slightly at her words, and you snap your head over to face her. She laughs, seeing you out of the corner of her eye, and then turns to face you again as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s almost 10pm, you think he just means a drive?” she asks with a small laugh. You groan, tilting your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“You think he means a drive?” you ask, keeping your head tilted back against the couch. You feel your stomach fill with nerves again. She shrugs, and can’t help but laugh at how much you’re trying to avoid anything more than kissing Evan.

“Why don’t you just get it over with? It’s not like he’ll care.” You know she’s right, but everytime tensions rise, you start moving and speaking before you have time to think.

“I’m serious. It won’t be that bad. It’s not like he’s some random guy.” She tries to calm your nerves, and it helps a little. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She’s right, you think, you do know him. You’re filled with a burst of courage, thinking that maybe it would be best if you just got it over with.

You’re torn from your thoughts when your phone vibrates, signaling that he’s here. You quickly make your way out the door and down to his jeep, groaning as you hear your roommate wish you luck before you close the door to your apartment.

You get into his jeep, greeting him with a smile. His eyes trail down your body, taking in your bare legs as he greets you. He starts driving once you’re settled, noticing that you’re fidgeting with your fingers, and reaches over to put a hand on your thigh. You look down at his hand, his thumb tracing along your thigh helping to calm your nerves a little bit.

“You’re gorgeous.” he says after a moment, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye, taking in how the streetlights illuminate your face. You fight back a smile, looking out your window.

“Where are we going?” you reply, trying to ignore the way your face is heating up. He shrugs, keeping his hand on your thigh as he keeps driving.

“Just wanted to see you. Thought we’d drive around.” You can’t help the smile that erupts on your face, replying with a soft “okay.”

He keeps driving further from the city, and you start to see less street lights and more trees, but he keeps going.

“Are you going to kill me?” you tease softly, turning to look over at him with a smile.

“You caught me. You’re the perfect target. I barely had to do anything to lure you out here.” he replies in the same tone, grabbing your hand and raising it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand gently.

“I won’t go down without a fight.” you tell him seriously, fighting back a smile as you turn in your seat to face him. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.” he tells you, winking at you quickly as he takes his eyes off the road for a second.

After a few more minutes, he pulls off onto a dirt road, driving for a minute until you come to a clearing. He turns off the car and looks over at you with a smile.

“So you are gonna kill me.” you tease, meeting his gaze. He shakes his head, chuckling.

“Come on, princess.” he tells you, getting out and quickly making his way around to your side and opening the door for you. He leads you to the front of the jeep and leans back onto the front bumper, pulling you between his legs and making you lean back against him, your back pressed against his chest.

“What are we doing here?” you whisper, as if speaking any louder would disturb the calm night air surrounding you. He puts a finger under your chin and raises your gaze up to the sky, a soft gasp escaping your throat as you see the stars in the sky.

“You like it?” he asks you softly, his head also tilted up to take in the night sky. You nod, biting your lip as butterflies fill your stomach. You can’t believe this. You would’ve never guessed he would do something like this.

“My mom used to take me outside at night to see the stars when I couldn’t sleep.” you whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He hums softly, smiling at your story.

“Do you know the stories about the constellations?” You turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder, your brows furrowed slightly.

“You know stories about the constellations?” you ask in slight disbelief. You already didn’t expect him to do this, and you really didn’t expect him to know the stories. He smiles at you, nodding.

“I got curious. Googled them one night.” he says sheepishly, and your smile widens.

“You’re full of surprises, Buckley.” you tease, turning your head to look up at the sky again, resting your head back on his shoulder. He chuckles, humming softly.

“Well, you know Perseus? He killed Medusa, and saved Andromeda from a sea serpent with Medusa’s head?” You nod, humming softly. “Well, the Gods were so impressed by his accomplishments, they immortalized him in the stars. You see him up there?” He tries to describe it to you as he points in its direction, and you nod along with him, a big smile on your face.

“Okay, and there’s two constellations called Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Zeus fell in love with one of Artemis’ nymphs named Callisto. He got her pregnant, and when Artemis found out, she made Callisto leave her group. Then, Hera turned Callisto into a bear, because she was jealous. Then, years later, Callisto’s son became a hunter, and came across his mother as a bear. Zeus saw this, and intervened, placing them both in the sky as bears. Right up there.” he points up towards them, and you nod softly.

After a few more stories, you then lean away from him and turn to look at him over your shoulder again.

“You sure do know a lot.” you tease softly, a large smile across your face. You’re impressed. You didn’t think he’d know much about myths, let alone how they relate to the stars. He feels his face flush at your compliment, and he looks down for a moment.

“Just google.” he murmurs before looking back up at you.

“My mom never told me about the stories.” you whisper, eyes trailing inspecting his face, taking in his features.

“Are you close with your mom?” he asks softly, squeezing your hips softly. You shrug, your smile fading slightly for a moment.

“I used to be. I’m not as close with her anymore. We never really see eye to eye, and she can’t hide her emotions when I do something with my life that she doesn’t want me to do. But, she’s still my mom.” He nods, studying your face as you explain, trying to learn more about your relationship with your mother than the vague answer you’re giving him. “Are you close with your parents?”

“Not really. I left as soon as I could. They were there, but, they were never really there.” You give him a sad smile as you nod.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. He hums softly, kissing you back, putting a hand on your cheek.

“They’re good people. They’re just not good parents.” You nod, frowning slightly. You can’t believe that his parents barely have anything to do with him. You think he’s the best man you’ve ever met, and you can’t help the frustration flowing through you as you take in that they don’t see him the way you do.

“I think they’re missing out.” you tell him after a moment, your eyes still scanning his face. He can feel his heart swelling as your words hit his ears. He’s never thought of himself that way. He leans in again, meeting your lips in the most tender, dizzying kiss you think you’ve ever had. You turn in his arms, standing between his legs to face him once you break the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and hug his head to your chest.

He melts into your touch, a soft sound of happiness escaping his throat. He wraps his arms around your thick waist, nuzzling against your chest, which makes you laugh softly.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” you whisper after a few moments, and you feel him lean his head away from your chest and look up at you with a smile.

“Thanks for coming with me.” he replies in the same tone. “But, I should get you home. You have class in the morning.” he says a bit louder. His hands slide down to your hips and he guides you back a step or two before he stands up, towering over you. He leads you over to the passenger side and helps you in, then makes his way back over to the drivers side and turns the jeep around to head back to your apartment.

It’s silent almost the whole way back to your place as you both enjoy each other’s company. His hand has found its way back to your thigh, and the cool breeze coming in from the rolled down windows is helping cool down your warm skin. You feel so relaxed in his presence that you can feel your eyelids becoming heavy, and you spend most of the drive trying to keep your eyes open.

Once he pulls up in front of your building, he puts the car in park and looks over at you. His eyes soften as he takes in the way you’re fighting to keep your eyes open, and he feels a little bad for keeping you out so late, but he loves how adorable you look in your sleepy state.

“Come here.” he whispers after a moment, reaching out to place a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. You lips meet his over the center console, and one of your hands comes up to grab his wrist. He pulls back with a big grin on his face, seeing how your face has lit up by his actions.

“Go get some sleep, princess.” he says, his voice just above a whisper. You nod, turning and opening the door to get out of the jeep. Once you jump down, you turn to face him again.

“Text me when you get home.” you whisper, almost as a question, but he knows you mean it. He nods, his smile growing at the thought of you wanting him to get home safe.

“I promise. Now, go.” he tells you sternly. You nod, shutting the door and waving at him before you turn and walk inside, feeling his eyes on you until you disappear into the building.

As you slowly walk inside, you can’t help but be a little disappointed. You had finally become okay with wanting more with him, but he really had just meant a drive. Nevertheless, you enjoyed spending time with him, and this is definitely something you never thought a man would actually do for you. You make your way up to your floor with a dazed smile on your face, glad to see that your roommate has already gone to bed once you make your way inside your apartment.

You fall asleep quickly once you get into bed, your thoughts on Evan, and how hard you’re starting to fall for him. You have a quick thought about what exactly you are, as you haven’t exactly had the talk with him yet, but you push it aside quickly. You’re happy with where you are right now, anyway. You’re definitely not seeing anyone else, and if this is how he treats women he’s not even dating, you think you’re okay with that, although you want more than anything to be with him for real.

next chapter

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glowup-princess · 5 months ago

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ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ ɢʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ

Hermione Granger is known for her exceptional study habits and academic prowess in the Harry Potter series.

1. Plan and Organize

Keep a schedule: Use a planner, calendar, or digital tool to track assignments, deadlines, and study sessions.

Set priorities: Tackle the most challenging or urgent tasks first.

Break it down: Divide larger projects into smaller, manageable steps.

2. Be Consistent

Study daily: Dedicate a specific time each day to review and reinforce your knowledge.

Avoid procrastination: Stay ahead of your workload to reduce stress.

3. Use Resources Wisely

Books and notes: Hermione always turned to books for answers. Take comprehensive notes and reference reliable materials.

Library time: Visit a quiet space, like a library, to minimize distractions and focus.

4. Engage in Active Learning

Ask questions: Be curious and seek to understand concepts deeply.

Teach others: Explaining what you've learned helps solidify your knowledge.

Practice regularly: Use practice tests, flashcards, or summaries to reinforce what you’ve learned.

5. Stay Disciplined

Avoid distractions: Put away your phone or use apps to block distractions during study sessions.

Stick to routines: Set a study ritual to signal your brain it’s time to focus.

6. Collaborate Strategically

Study groups: Join or form study groups with peers who are equally motivated to learn.

Share knowledge: Like Hermione, help others while also learning from their insights.

7. Self-Care Matters

Get enough sleep: Prioritize rest to enhance memory and concentration.

Eat healthy snacks: Fuel your brain with nutritious food while studying.

Take breaks: Use techniques like the Pomodoro Method to maintain focus and prevent burnout.

8. Be Resourceful

Seek help: Don’t hesitate to approach teachers or mentors if you’re stuck.

Use technology: Take advantage of apps, videos, and online tutorials to supplement your learning.

9. Embrace Curiosity

Learn beyond the syllabus: Hermione often read extra material for deeper understanding.

Stay inquisitive: Cultivate a genuine love for learning.

10. Confidence and Perseverance

Believe in yourself: Even when faced with challenges, trust your preparation and abilities.

Don’t fear mistakes: Learn from them and use them as stepping stones.

Remember take care of your best weapon (spoiler: it's you <3)

pt.2?

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 8 months ago

Text

Mine to Protect Part II

Source for Pic

Mine to Protect

Word Count: 7026

Tags for the whole story: Highlander!Kid; Fem!Reader; Alternate Universe - Scotland 13th century; Gore; Blood; Violence; Death; Mild Angst; Fluff; Nudity; Cursing; Sexual Tension; Explicit Sexual Content; Protective!Kid; Possessive!Kid; Soft!Kid; Feral!Kid; Jealous!Kid; Happy Ending; Sort of Enemies to Lovers; Teasing; Banter; NSFW; MDNI; Mature Audiences;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your father and his allied clans are at war, and you're a liability. When you're assigned a guard to protect you - against your will - you do everything in your power to infuriate him. The problem is that he can be more infuriating than you, as you're about to find out.

Notes: This is the largest of the chapters, sorry about that but I couldn't find another logical way to split it! I hope you're all enjoying Highlander Kid! I know I am 😎 Also, this part doesn't have a prompt, as it was pushed to part 3.

Part 2 of 3

The days that follow the attack, you don’t acknowledge what passed between you and Kid. Neither does he. Other than building an intricate iron lock for your window himself, and forbidding you to open it at night, which inevitably leads to another argument between the two of you.

“You don’t give me orders! My father hired you!”

“Stop bein’ a brat! It’s a damned lock, and ye have the key tae open it! It’s no’ a prison, lass!”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

“I do when it comes tae yer safety! Between all yer shenanigans and trips tae town, I’m already burdened enough.” You turn sharply away from the window, your gaze burning against his as he purses his lips, realising the mistake he made.

“Burdened?”

“No’ what I meant. Yer just being difficult.” He clears his throat, grunts, and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly a defensive position.

“Aye, I get what you meant, Kid.” You scoff. “Matter of fact, you just earned a night off. I don’t want to burden you. Go away and leave me alone. You're dismissed, Kid.”

He stands in silence for a beat, and you turn back to the window, actually locking it so he does leave you alone.

“Yer no’ the one who hired me, lass. Ye cannae dismiss me.”

“Get out!” You shout, banging your palms against the window, frustrated breaths leaving your mouth in ragged pants. You don’t look, but a shuffle of clothes and the click of the door tells you he’s left.

Good.

Because today, you need to go into town without your shadow, or your plan won’t have the slightest chance of working.

-*-

You heed the advice Kid gave you on your first encounter and cover your face with the hood of a plain, worn-out brown cloak, travelling inconspicuously to the inn on the outskirts of town, where no one will find you.

You arranged an encounter with a laird’s employee from one of the opposing clans. He has vital information that could help turn the tide of the war, and he’s willing to sell it to the highest bidder. With a sack full of jewellery, you’re it at the moment.

Dismissing Kid was either the brightest idea you had or the dumbest. You don’t know this man at all, but you came prepared. Your hands pat the two daggers strapped to your thighs, and you take a deep breath before entering the inn. It’s eerily empty which makes your encounter setup very suspicious.

Except for the fact that the man is young –roughly your age– handsome, and clean. So maybe this can pass as a lover’s encounter instead of a strategic one, and that plays in your favour.

“My lady.” The man drawls as you sit in front of him, pulling your hood back a little but not removing it entirely.

“Sir.” You return the greeting. “Let’s get to the point, please. I must return before my absence is noted.” You think about Kid once more and hope you made the right choice by dismissing him.

“I understand the rush, but I must say I’m impressed.” You raise an eyebrow, your right hand clutching the dagger at your thigh as you hold your breath. “You’re stunning.” A small surge of heat rushes to your cheeks as you were not expecting that.

“Thank you?” You begin, not really knowing how to respond to his compliment. “Now, I have gold and–”

“The price has changed.” He says smoothly as his eyes devour you.

“What do you mean? We had an agreement, I can’t get more gold on such short notice, and–”

“I don’t want gold anymore.” Your breath hitches as he grins, and you understand immediately what he wants, even before he says it. “I just want one night with you.” He says it anyway.

One night? Closing your eyes, you rest your elbow on the table, pressing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose. One night… if one night is all it takes to get information that can free your people, you’re willing to sacrifice it.

It’s not like you’re a maiden anyway. You’ve been with men –scratch that– you’ve been with boys who barely knew how to touch you, but… are you willing to do it for your people?

Absolutely.

“Fine. I accept.”

-*-

Kid can barely believe his eyes as he watches through the window. He rakes one hand through his fiery hair while the other grips the handle of his sword. He followed you to the outskirts of town to a run-down, rickety inn just so you could meet with a man? He lets out a low growl as he clenches his teeth.

That’s why you got rid of him so fast earlier, you wanted to get laid and needed to get rid of him.

He knows he should turn back and go to the keep, he even tries to argue with himself, trying to convince himself that the only reason he’ll stay is because your father hired him to protect you, but he knows he’s lying.

He’ll stay because he can’t bear the thought of you in another man’s arms, but he bears it even less if he has to stay away from you while you do it. It’s the most twisted form of masochism he’s ever known.

At first, it looked like just a meeting, but now you’re climbing the steps towards the rooms and he can barely stop his pacing. The demons in his head fight and struggle against him, as they have been doing since the cursed day he laid eyes on you. Demanding that he split his attention between duty and want, honour and need.

You’re the most beautiful, aggravating creature he’s ever met. And damned if he doesn’t care for you more than he should.

Fuck this.

There’s no way he’ll dig a hole in the floor with his pacing when he can drag you out of that fucking room himself. You can be mad at him for all eternity, if you wish, but he’d much rather have that than see you in another man’s arms.

Kid silently enters the inn, his scowl and weapons prompting no questions from the man behind the counter when he leaves a coin there and climbs up. Upstairs, there’s only one closed door.

Kid seethes and grits his teeth, his jaw nearly snapping from the tension, but as soon as he reaches the door, he hesitates, your voice, coming softly from the inside, stops him in his tracks.

“Can I have the war information now?” You ask, a slight tremble in your voice he’s not accustomed to hearing, which makes him furrow his brows.

War information?

You’re giving yourself to this bastard for information? Somehow, this makes him even madder than the though of you being here willingly just to fuck another man. This is wickedly cruel. Sacrificing yourself for information?

He knows that’s something you’d do easily. You go out almost every night, there’s barely any jewel to your name, and you give away most portions of your own food. He knows how much you’re willing to give and do for the people you care so much about. But this? This he cannot stomach.

“Soon, my lady, soon. Let’s get to this first, shall we?”

Kid clenches his fists and hesitates again. You being mad at him for interrupting a quick lay was something he was fine with. But you being utterly angered at him for ruining your chance of turning the tide of the war… that will get him in real trouble with you. And he’s weighing all the pros and cons of it. Is he willing to risk it? Can he fucking bear it? Because there’s no way he’s going to leave you here alone, even if he has to hear everything that happens in that fucking room.

“Wait, wait. No, stop. I’ve changed my mind, I need more time and–”

“I think not, my lady. You’ve had enough of that.”

Fuck the risks.

-*-

Your hands are still pushing the man’s hands away from your legs when Kid kicks the door open, sending it flying back, broken and splintered. A gasp leaves your lips as he rushes forward, grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him to the ground near the door.

“Get the fuck out.”

Kid doesn’t need to say it twice before the man bolts, tail between his legs. And now you’re pissed.

“What the hell, Kid! I said you were dismissed for the night! That man had vital information about the war front and–”

“And ye’re willin’ tae do what for it, exactly?” Kid roars as he turns to you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair, but he doesn’t scare you. The only time he did was when you didn’t even know who he was. So you take a step forward, meeting his eyes with the same fire he’s pining you with.

“Whatever was necessary to save my people!”

Kid points at the bed, the veins in his neck protruding dangerously as he steps closer. “Lay with him? Whore yerself for information?”

A surge of heat rushes through you, and his words hit harder than you expected, but you still bite back with equal venom. “I would’ve done anything. My people matter more to me than my body or one measly night. I don’t care.”

“Ya should!” His broad figure towers over yours, and you sense him tense up, the lines on his face sharper, the intensity in his gaze darker.

You shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Well, I don’t! And I could’ve handled it alone.”

His laugh sends a waft of warm air against your hair, and you hiss. “Aye, aye! I believe ye! Like ye’ve handled it all the other times? Little Miss ‘I dinnae need help from anyone’!” He mocks.

The condescending tone makes your anger burn hotter, the air between you dense with tension, crackling with energy. You shove him again –to no effect. “I cannot let my people suffer through this war anymore!”

“What about ye?”

“I don’t matter, Kid!” Another shove. “They matter! The children, the elderly, the sick!” A stubborn tear falls from your eye and you shove him again. “I’m the only one they’ve got! I don’t give a damn about myself, I–” You shove him again but his hands gently catch yours, and you sob. You’re relieved he showed up. You would’ve done anything, but that doesn’t mean you wanted to do it.

“And ye think I give a damn about yer charity? Yer people?” His hand reaches up, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your jaw so you have to meet his eyes. “Lass, I’d rather see the world burn down tae ashes and be ravaged by war, than let some bastard touch ye like that.”

His admission takes you both by surprise, but he quickly masks it with an angry scowl. Your heart, however, gives you no reprieve, pounding violently in your chest. You will yourself to throw back a witty retort, angry words, anything– but nothing comes out except awkward sputters as you struggle to shut your open mouth.

Kid’s words hang in the air between you like a storm cloud, charged and dangerous, leaving you unsure how to act. He lets go of your hand and chin and you step back, dowcasting your gaze and taking a deep breath, your anger subsiding as your voice loses the edge and intensity it had a minute ago.

“I don’t know what else to do, Kid. It’s my people, my responsibility.”

“It’s no’.” His voice is level again, still edged, but much less intense. “It’s yer da’s. He should be the one seekin’ aid and information, no’ ye. There’s always another way, and next time ye want tae get information,” Kid sighs heavily. “Dinnae do it alone.”

You swallow hard. There are no more tears, but the weight of his words hangs heavily on your chest. You can’t rely on your father for help. He doesn’t leave the keep, barely knows what’s happening around him, aside from the warfront. It was up to you. And… and now Kid… put an end to it.

“You ruined everything.” You whisper, not daring to meet his eyes because you’re being unfair. He saved you.

Again.

“Aye. I’d do it all over again.”

-*-

It’s a painful feeling, the one that lingers afterward. You know you care more for Kid than you should. It’s not just desire –but by the gods, there’s so much desire– it’s something far deeper, far more intense. His words resound in your head like a sickly echo.

“I’d rather see the world burn down tae ashes and be ravaged by war, than let some bastard touch ye like that.”

He cares too. There’s really no other explanation. But you don’t know what to do with it, so once again, you and Kid don’t talk about it.

He’s more and more adamant about not leaving you alone and, sometimes, it pisses you off so much that you sneak out, elude him, and trick him so you can just find some peace. He always finds you and you always end up arguing.

Today, though, you manage to buy yourself a decent amount of time by asking the children from the town to distract him, and before Kid even realises what happened, you’ve already given him the slip. There’s every chance he’ll find you soon, but for now, you will enjoy the coolness of the nearby loch. There’s a more well-known, wider area of the loch, where children usually play, but you know of another, smaller bay just a few metres away, and it's perfectly secluded and peaceful. Just what you need at the moment.

Peace.

Because there’s none of that when Kid is around. Not inner peace at least. There’s always a war raging inside you, willing you to push him to his limits, to defy him because you don’t need –nor want– his protection. Yet, the space between the two of you is always charged with raw energy and magnetism, like a storm cloud waiting to pour its deluge on both of you.

Unsurprisingly, now that he’s gone, you miss him.

Fuck me.

-*-

It takes Kid almost an hour to sniff out your trail, and he’s beyond pissed. He’s about to lay all his anger on you, almost wishing you’d gotten into trouble, just for you to realise that you need him and stop doing foolish shit.

The loch?

He approaches silently, always moving like a shadow before making his presence known, and by the gods, he made the right choice in doing that now, because you’re standing naked at the loch’s edge, preparing yourself for a cold dip.

Kid’s heart pounds violently against his chest as he watches you. His eyes devour your body, blood roaring with the desire he’s felt for you since you tried to punch him on that first night. But it’s on your face his gaze lingers unabashedly. You have a look of utter relaxation on your features, and he’s never seen you like this around him. Completely vulnerable, unguarded, and free.

He’s lived on edge since meeting you, constantly tense in your presence, alert to any and every danger that could take you away from him, and even when there’s no danger, there’s always something far more perilous. An unspoken tension between the two of you, anger and desire mingling into something he can’t quite place, but that keeps pulling you to him. It’s maddening.

Yet, what he’s feeling now goes way beyond anything he’s ever felt in your presence. It’s wilder, untamed, and desperate.

Gritting his teeth, Kid knows he can’t stand and watch you forever, but he’s not willing to let you be alone anyway, so he makes his presence known. “Enjoyin’ yerself, lass?”

-*-

You spin around in the water, facing Kid through wet lashes, but surprise is only etched on your face for a split second. You knew he’d find you.

“I was. Go away.”

“I cannae do that. It’s my job, ye know that.” He crosses his arms and leans against a tree near your discarded clothes. “Besides, yer a sittin’ duck right now. Have ye learned nothin’?”

You turn away from him again with a tut, dipping your head back to get your hair wet. “I don’t need protection, Kid. Leave. I want to be alone.”

“I’m never leavin’ ya alone again, lass. Better get that straight into yer noggin.” You can hear him snicker as you splash your hands against the cold water, trying to chase your frustration away. “Enjoy yer little dip, while it lasts. I’m no’ leavin’.”

“Gods, Kid! You’re infuriating! Leave. Me. Alone.” You accentuate every word with another splash, but that just makes him grin more.

“Ye dinnae have tae like me, but I thought ye’re used tae me by now.”

You stop thrashing, and he chuckles infuriatingly again. He thinks he’s won this round, but you’re about to serve vengeance on a cold platter. He doesn’t want to leave? Fine! But you’ll win this argument without uttering a single word.

You turn back to him, defiance splattered all over your face as you gaze into his fiery, cocky red eyes. Without so much as a blink, you strut to the shore, baring your naked body to him without a hint of shame.

You have to fight a victory smirk from gracing your lips when Kid pushes himself away from the tree, his arms falling limp at his sides as he follows you with his gaze.

-*-

You want to kill him. That’s the only explanation he finds for what you’re doing at the moment. Because if it’s vengeance, it’s quite petty. Kid has to fight the urge to reach into his breeches and adjust his cock, which gets hard just by looking at you. The way you’re staring into his soul while baring yourself to him, water dripping over your body, your perky nipples shimmering and slick with water, walking with long, unapologetic strides. It’s too much.

Fuck.

He’s fought all kinds of men and beasts and never once did it occur to him to surrender. But to you, he’d fall on his knees and beg, and that is the scariest thought he’s had in a while. Kid clears his throat as you approach him, your chin raised in that regal way about you that he both loathes and admires.

“What are ye doin’?” He barely recognizes his own trembling voice. It’s like he’s a boy again, pissing himself while facing an enemy on the battlefield.

“I told you I don’t need protection.” You take another step, and it takes all of his willpower not to thread his fingers through your dripping wet hair, grip it and pull it back until your throat is vulnerable, and then crash his lips against yours. Kid bets you’d taste delicious.

“Aye.” Not his smartest answer. Not even an answer, really, and you must know you have the advantage because the smirk that curves your lips is both infuriating and endearing. Then you move closer, almost as if you’re going to whisper something to him, and as all the blood rushes to his cock and his heart thrums in his ears, all Kid can think about is how your soft skin would feel against his rough and calloused hands, or how your moans would sound whispered against his ear.

He holds his breath and you lean in. Your perky nipple grazes his arm and burns like the hottest of fires, undoubtedly etching and scorching a mark on his skin, something that digs deeper than his ugliest scars. It’s like the moment freezes in time, the air shifting into something heavier and more dangerous. His fingers itch to touch you and his hands almost move of their own volition to fulfil a desire fueled by his loins. Then you break the moment by bending and grabbing the clothes next to his feet, pulling the dress over your head and batting your lashes at him innocently.

“Problem?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches three times before he deems it safe to speak. “Stop playin’ with fire, lass.”

Your smirk grows wider as you slowly pass your arms through the sleeves, bouncing your breasts and revelling in the way Kid’s eyes wander and linger. “Maybe I like to get burned.”

-*-

Shit. Where did that come from? Other than the bottomless pit of desire currently fueling your loins?

He takes a step back, raking his fingers through his hair as his hand reaches for the front of his breeches, making you bite your lower lip in anticipation. But instead of unfastening them and slamming his cock into your dripping self, he shuts his eyes and curses. “We’re leavin’. Get dressed.”

Turning to leave, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply as he walks towards the edge of the forest, stopping and waiting for you with his back turned. You take deep, steadying breaths and will your heart to calm down, lest it jump right out of your mouth.

Does it still count as a victory if you feel like shit from being rejected?

-*-

This party had been planned for a year, back when the war had just started and the vaults were still full. Now, in your opinion, it was a waste of money, food, and time. But your father was adamant about hosting it, as it was meant to serve as a courtship of the lairds and their sons to you.

You had to choose a husband –a strategic alliance– so your father could secure more money and soldiers for the war effort. You knew where your father could shove the potential suitors, but you couldn’t find a way to get out of the party, so here you were, enduring yet another speech about the feats and achievements of another stuck-up man.

You wore crimson tonight. A dark, deep, lavish red gown that matched the intensity of your rage towards this event. A red that coincidentally matched the fiery hair of your guard.

Speaking of Kid, you had yet to lay eyes on him, but you knew he wasn’t far. Your father had given him the day off, but he had stayed true to his infuriating declaration of never leaving you alone again, even when he was blatantly dismissed. So, you were sure he was, or would be, around. The only time he was away from you was when you slept.

You manage to fight yet another urge to roll your eyes as another man approaches you out of nowhere, invading your personal space with what they all believe are charming words. Every one of them makes you want to gag.

“My lady, you look as beautiful as the loch outside.”

Now you can’t stop the eye roll, even if you wanted to. “Truly? Cold, stinking of fish, and green?” The man stammers, a hint of red spreading across his pale cheeks, and you sigh. “Excuse me, I’m needed… elsewhere.”

Anywhere else.

Two more steps, one more drink, and another idiot. “My lady, the skies must have lost a star, for your beauty is far too radiant for mere mortals.”

You raise your brow as the corner of your lips threatens to curve up. “Is that so, my lord? Are you implying that I’m the reason the sky looks so dim tonight?” This man stammers just like the one before and a chuckle escapes your lips before you excuse yourself and turn away, leaving him flabbergasted.

Gods, you just want this torture to end.

“Are you not tired of these fools, my lady? Perhaps a reprieve would do you good?”

Another one already? Is it too much to ask for a moment of peace?

“A reprieve? Are you offering sanctuary in my own home, my lord?” You look him in the eyes as the corner of your lips rises. He’s quite handsome: dark hair, tanned skin and a beautiful smile.

“I was merely suggesting an escape plan, away from all the lochs and stars.” You chuckle, and he seems encouraged to continue. “I assure you, my company comes without any celestial expectations.”

“Aye, I see that. Does it come with that charming wit, or was it a one-time event?” He offers his arm, and you take it, actually impressed by him.

“For your company, my lady? I will gladly put forth my best efforts.”

-*-

You didn’t even realise he was at the party, Kid is sure of it. He’s keeping to the fringes, a mug of ale in his hand, as his sharp eyes follow you everywhere. Just because your father gave him the night off doesn’t mean he’ll skip his duties. Especially when you’re his duty.

He’s been spending all of his time growling into the mug, clenching it so tightly he’s bound to break it before the night ends. These fools keep approaching you with their charming words and honeyed speeches.

He has to admit, though, you’re handling everything quite well, and he’s found himself rather entertained by the look on the face of each suitor you reject. Deep down, he’s hoping that he’s the reason you keep rejecting them, but he quickly dismisses that thought.

Especially because his entertainment suddenly turns sour.

A posh-looking laird approaches you –again with sweet and charming words, things Kid would never say to you– and you have the gall to laugh. To actually laugh at what the bastard said. And then you take his arm as he leads you to a more secluded part of the ballroom so you can speak.

The distinct burn of jealousy courses through Kid’s veins, and he doesn’t quite know what to do about it. It’s not his place to go over there and demand–... what? That the man leave you alone? He’s not even doing anything wrong, he’s just talking to you.

And you’re laughing again. Fuck.

He grips the mug tighter, the ale suddenly much more bitter than it should be. He needs to keep his shit together, though. You’re a noble lady, you’re going to marry, and he won’t have any say in it. Better to keep distancing himself like he was trying to do. Even if it kills him.

-*-

You excuse yourself from the laird’s company after a while. Sure, he’s handsome, witty, a sweet talker, and has the right kind of armies. But he’s not… it.

With a loud sigh, you reach for another mug of ale, willing the night to end quickly so you can tell your father it was a complete and utter disaster. Will he still force you to choose a husband, though? Or will he simply force one on you? That is the real question.

But your thoughts are soon diverted when you feel a prickling at the back of your neck, that tingling, warm sensation you’ve come to associate with Kid.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away long. Free ale and pretty ladies?” You smirk smugly as you turn around to meet the slightly disgruntled gaze of your guard. “I don’t know how you haven’t come down sooner.”

“Lass, I’ve been on yer tail since ye left yer room.” He snickers, but you can see it’s forced. “Havin’ fun?” The way he crosses his arms seems charged with tension, he’s angry at something.

“So much fun, Kid. Something you’re unfamiliar with, I guess. It’s when people laugh because they’re entertained. You know,” you reach and lift his cheeks upwards so his lips curve into a grimaced smile. “Kind of like that, but less scary and… constipated.”

“I laugh.” He grumbles, swatting your hands away.

“Do you?”

“When yer not pissin’ me off.”

Now you laugh. “Right, never then!” You’ve seen him amused, with that annoying smirk he uses and the way his eyes crease a little bit. But you haven’t heard a real, genuine laugh. “I doubt you’re even capable of such a thing.”

You both saunter into a corner of the room, where Kid leans against the wall and you sway on your feet, tired of sitting down.

“Maybe I dinnae have reasons tae smile.” Cryptic much? What’s he talking about? His scowl deepens as he locks eyes with someone and you follow. It’s the laird from before, the charming one. Is Kid jealous? “So, is he the chosen one?”

He is jealous.

“Maybe. He’s charming enough and knows the right things to say.”

“Never thought ya needed tae be sweet-talked.” He crosses his arms and averts his gaze from the laird with a scowl but doesn’t look back at you.

“Sometimes it’s nice to feel wanted.” You tease, but you mean it.

“Wanted? By him?” He pushes away from the wall, indignation written on his face, his intense energy turning the air around you heavier, stifling, and making your heart pound violently with anticipation.

“At least somebody wants me. That might be enough to make me want to marry him.”

“Ye cannae do that.” He growls, taking a towering step towards you and suddenly you don’t know if you should feel aroused by his behaviour or angered that he thinks he has a say in your life.

“I do whatever the hell I want, Kid. You don’t tell me what to do.” You step towards him too, the party fading into the background as if you’re the only people there. The space between you seems small and cramped, tight with tension and need. “You don’t own me.”

The hot puffs of breath coming in ragged feel warm against your face, and you can see just how sharp his canines are as he bares his teeth at you. He’s all growls and grunts, a litany of sounds that vibrate straight into your cunt. Fuck. You need him.

The clenching of his hand is a dead giveaway to how much he wants to touch you, but you can tell he’s holding back. You can count the passing of time by the way his jaw ticks, and the fire in his eyes burns straight into your soul. “Yer mine, lass.”

The words make you gasp, and he’s also startled by them as you both take a step back. The tension flutters and fades, and the noise from the party resumes all around you. What did he say?

“Tae protect. Mine tae protect.” He adds quickly, his voice hoarse as he averts his eyes.

The seconds stretch as you’re left speechless. You can see a war being waged somewhere deep inside him, there’s a fury in his eyes with an intensity that speaks volumes and only adds stiffness to his bulky frame.

“Aye.” You say, voice strained and a sarcastic quip at the tip of your tongue. “Just to protect. Got it.”

Kid grunts, his eyes searching yours again. “I’m yer guard.”

“I know.”

“That’s all.”

“I know.”

“It cannae be more.”

“I know!” You raise your voice as you turn your back on him, dropping the mug on the nearest table and storming out of the room, but not before adding with as much authority as you can muster. “Do not dare follow me!”

-*-

Where the hell did you go? Kid’s heart races in his chest as he turns left and right. You disappeared on him after he blurted out the stupidest shit he’d ever said in his life –even if it was true. You were just there, and then… you weren’t.

Fuck.

He knows well enough that these big parties are the playground of assassins, and your father is a man many people want dead at the moment. For lack of that option, since he’s well-guarded, taking you is the next juicy prize. And now you’re nowhere to be seen. Or protected.

When Kid finds you, he’ll choke you with his bare hands for this stupid stunt.

He scans the gardens since you’re not inside the party, and he feels a mix of relief, anger, and indignation when he sees you at the edge of the forest near the gate. He’s definitely going to kill you if you’re sneaking outside for a midnight encounter with that prick.

Wedding match be damned to hell.

-*-

You just had to leave and get some air. It wasn’t even just the argument you had with Kid, or the sudden realisation that you and he were miles apart, even when you were so close. It was the stuffy ballroom, those insufferable suitors, the loudness of the music, and the expectations on you. It was all too much. You thought about retiring to your room, but there were sure to be guards on the stairs, and you doubted your father would let you leave so early. So you moved to the grounds where it was quiet.

You just want peace. Is it too much to ask for?

“Here you are, my lady. I’ve found you. And look, all alone, the possibilities are endless for our night.” You sigh at the lecherous suitor who followed you –the one who spewed the loch remark. You must have hurt his feelings, because he looks ready to snap your neck, or worse.

Is it wrong that you don’t fear him? Or that you don’t even feel the need to reach for your hidden daggers? You don’t quite know when this happened, but as insufferable as he is, you trust Kid fully, wholeheartedly, and you know, you just know, he’ll never fail you.

“Get the fuck away from her before I make ye piss yer pants, bastard.”

A smirk curves your lips upwards. You knew it. He’s always there. The man leaves with a shriek, and you face Kid, not really in the mood for more bickering, but of course, that’s all he wants to do.

“The hell were ye thinkin’, lass, leavin’ the party all alone and–” You don’t even let him finish the sentence. Fuck bickering, fuck fighting, fuck it all. Your fingers grasp his shirt as you pull him down towards you with all the strength you possess, lips crashing against each other with urgency and desire.

It took an entire evening of wrongs –wrong men, wrong words, wrong faces, wrong accent– just to make you realise that the right one was beside you all the time.

The kiss is unbridled, hungry, and desperate. A clash of not just tongues and lips, but of wills and stubbornness. It’s the culmination of all the little arguments, of all the bickering and of all the tension that enveloped both of you since you met.

You pull him closer, hands climbing his neck and tugging at his fiery hair. He’s so rigid that it’s as if he went into shock when you kissed him. The only thing that proves it wrong is the way he’s devouring your mouth. And then, with a soft thud as he releases his axe to the floor, he moves – desperately!

Kid’s hands grip your hips, and he pushes you against a tree, forcing the air out of your lungs with a wanton moan. His body presses against yours, clinging to you as if you’re about to run away from him again. It’s like he needs you with all his soul, and he’s showing you exactly that.

His kiss is, at the same time, everything you’ve imagined –consuming, heated, furious– and nothing like it. It sends lightning coursing through your veins, igniting them with pent-up energy that demands release. Kid’s hands roam, climbing up your body and cupping your face, deepening the kiss even more, making you feel as if you are drowning in him.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, as if you’re the only thing that matters and he’s afraid to let go. It’s daunting, but also comforting.

Kid pulls back after what feels like too little time, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your cheeks as your panting breaths mingle, and you lose yourself in his fiery gaze.

“Ye drive me insane, lass. Ye’ll be the death of me.”

“I could say the same of you.” He doesn’t let you go and neither do you. Your hands press against his chest, nimble fingers untying the strings of his shirt as he smirks at you.

“Needy, are ya, lass?”

He’s not wrong.

“I am. Kiss me again.” And he obeys you. For once since he’s been stationed as your guard, he obeys you. His lips even more urgent than before, his hands groping and feeling every inch of you as you slither your fingers under his clothes, tracing his taut muscles and the roughness of his scars.

“Fuck, ye want me dead. That’s what this is.” But he doesn’t stop. He bites your lower lip and kisses your jawline, moving lower to your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive spot there. His mouth parts as he murmurs more words against your skin in his low, rough Scottish brogue that makes you weak in the knees.

You grip his hair, pulling him closer as your head falls back in abandon, and a soft moan escapes your lips when he sucks particularly harshly against the hollow of your throat.

“Do that again.” His tongue licks from your neck up to your ear, and the involuntary whimper leaves your lips again. “Fuck.” Raising his hands, he pulls the neckline of your dress down, baring you to him as he keeps muttering low, a litany of words you can’t make sense of and could very well be prayers or curses. Then he cups your breast, his thumb grazing against your nipple as you arch into his touch, seeking his touch, begging for more.

“More.” You whisper as he leans to roll your nipple against his teeth, making you shiver, a combination of hot and cold, pain and pleasure, that leaves you breathless and dizzy. “More, Kid.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your nails bite into his skin in a desperate attempt to have more of him, like you’re requesting.

“Gods, lass. Tell me ye want this.” He groans, his hands already tugging at your skirts, lifting them up. “Tell me ye want me.”

“Aye, Kid, aye! I want you.” Your words are a mere whisper. They’re as hot and desperate as you feel. You need him now.

It’s all the confirmation he needs because, in the next moment, your skirts are pulled all the way up against your hips, and his rough, big fingers find you wet and wanting, ready for his touch. He parts your lips, inserting one finger with a low, hot groan against your ear, and you arch your body to his touch, a small gasp of pleasure cutting through the silent night. “So tight for me, lass.”

He inserts another finger into your slit and then slides them in and out with slow, languid strokes as you cry out his name. You’ve wanted to feel him touch you for so long, but, somehow, you never imagined it would feel this amazing. “Mine.” He bites into your throat as you arch your head, riding his fingers and feeling heat pooling in your belly. “All mine.”

You can’t even argue with him, all your brattiness and fight lost at the tips of his fingers.

“Gods, Kid, please!” Your head falls forward as you pant into his ear. His fingers feel amazing, but you need more, so much more. “Please!”

Kid uses his weak arm to free his pants and take out his cock, pumping it twice and groaning as he keeps fingering you, his thumb pressing against your clit and sending wave after wave of heat down your legs.

When he removes his fingers, you whine softly, but as his hands grip your thighs and he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing, you gaze into his eyes in anticipation. “Lass–”

“Yours.” It’s all you say before he even asks if you’re sure about this. His eyes darken, and he thrusts forward, inserting himself inside you, stretching you, filling you up completely to the point where you don’t even know how you’ve gone all these years without him to make you whole.

A loud cry of his name leaves your lips as he bottoms out and stands still, waiting for you to accommodate his size. His lips brush against your neck as he feels the way your pulse flutters against his tongue and your cunt throbs around his sheathed cock.

“Easy, lass. Breathe for me, aye?” As you relax in his grip, he pulls back, only to thrust harder, making you cry again. You’re right at the edge, feeling your legs tingling, your coil ready to snap and send you into bliss. “All mine.” He keeps repeating, maybe trying to prove it to you, to stake his claim, but he’s right. You’re his, all his. And you never want to be anyone else’s.

He thrusts harder again, hitting you just right, and you lose yourself in his hold, bare back scraping against the harsh bark of the tree as you cry your release into the night in the form of his name and broken moans. “Fuck, ye feel so good, lass. So good. Scream my name again!” He says, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to do it sooner than you thought, because the warm waves of pleasure are still making you shiver and tingle, and you’re already feeling the build-up of another wave ready to crash over you.

Kid never stops.

“Again, aye? One more?” You nod, your breaths increasing as his thrusts become faster, sloppier and needier.

“Gods, Kid, just like that, I’m–”

“Aye, lass, let it out for me.” He grunts against the curve of your neck as he steadies his arm against your back to hold you with his strong arm, using the other hand to circle and pinch your clit.

Another cry leaves you, the intensity of the bliss much greater than the one before, as your mewls and moans sing into the night. Kid follows you over the abyss right after with a few sloppy thrusts, and you’re both left heaving harsh breaths, tangled in sweaty limbs and bliss.

Why the fuck didn’t you do this sooner?

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @takamimami

|Part 3|

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