#That one will be in the future and very brief ok?

[mh073099]

“I’ll Find You” - Captain Rex x Reader Fic Part 3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Sexual Harassment- a bit. Themes of Torture, Terrorism, Murder, our girl is a separatist spy okay she's not the good guy yet. Age Gap- 18/19 to a 24/25. Don't Worry not for long, I am a fan of age gaps.

Author Note- SOOOOOoooo It has been a really Long time since I posted anything for this and almost abandoned it but I reread it earlier and got some inspiration again, to anyone that cares reading this. Also, pay attention to the time stamps.. they will be important in the future.

Gif rights to creator

Part 3

Paris, France 05/21/2067 01:45

As we sat down in the café, I suddenly felt awkward. Here I was, sitting down with the first person in ages that really noticed me, regardless of if it was real or not. I felt naked. Laid bare under his gaze. 

“Relax, princess. I’m not going to bite.” He smiles at me. Never in my life has someone smiled at me this much. 

“Not even if I ask nicely?” I snark back, leaning forward onto the table with my hands. Rex just looks at me, smirk on his face, not taking the bate. 

“You know what’s scary?” I ask him. I’m unable to help myself.

“What?”

“Knowing that you could destroy everything I’ve ever known, and yet I think I’d let you.” What the fuck am I saying? And that thought must be showing on my face because he starts to speak again.

He regards me carefully. “Maybe that’s what you need,” comes out slow and soft.

“I don’t need saving.” I look him square in the eyes.

“I’m not taking about saving you. I’m taking about freeing you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feel we are dancing around the obvious.

“Hmmm. Tell me something about yourself. Something honest, real.” He asks while sipping his hot chocolate. He looks so normal, so calm and at peace. While we sit here and dance around elephants in the room. 

“Oh, well I don’t know. Um… I speak 6 languages.” I offer up. Kinda at a loss to answer, for Am I really that much of a person? I do what I’m told. I am the makeup of ash and ember that has been molded by pain, over and over again. My whole life is a lie. A secret. Something I cannot share, for the so called greater good. Honest? Something Real? Am I even real? These thoughts aren’t ones I should be having. Conversations like this lead down a dark road.

“Wow, that is impressive.” He really does look impressed by that fact. “What Languages? Even though that’s not what I meant by my question, obviously. But I have to ask.”

“Maybe I am Deflecting.”

“You are most definitely deflecting.” Then he looks at me expectantly.

“Well, English obviously,” earns me the low chuckle that I am growing to adore. “As well as French, Spanish, Geonosian, Huttese, and Kittat.”

His head snaps up from where he was drinking his coffee. “Kittat? That’s a dead language, used by- “

“Yes, The Old Empire. My mother is a historian. Translated a few things for the republic. Taught me as she was teaching herself.” The lie falls easy and quick from my mouth. The dead language isn’t as dead as everyone thinks. It’s what the separatists use to pass information along. An Illegal language has its benefits.

Which of course he brings up. “Mhhmm. And Isn’t it an illegal language?” He cocks his head; his eyes harden the slightest bit.

"Technically yes but Historians like my mother have permits and clearances for such things. Teaching me? Now that wasn’t necessarily legal but what kind of government prohibits a whole language? Its just words.”

“Dangerous words” he counters carefully.

“As if words in any other language can’t be dangerous?” I lean back. “It was William Douglas said ‘The most important aspect of freedom of speech is freedom to learn. All education is a continuous dialogue- questions and answers that pursue every problem on the horizon.’ Without the freedom to criticize, question and challenge the dominant narrative, societies cannot make progress.” I finish with a huff.

Rex leans back, with a smile on is lips, and something bright gleaming in his eyes. “You’re very passionate about this.”

“There is only passion.”

Rex pauses, licks his lips and smiles. “Of course, you’re 100% right about freedom of speech. But progress is slow. We must learn from the past. Not repeat it.”

“And isn’t that what’s happening?”

“I don’t think so. I work for a great senator, Her efforts and even the quiet efforts of her husband have shown that they actually care for their people. And truly want to make the world a better place. The right way.”

“What’s your job title exactly?” I bait him.

“What’s yours?” 

I sigh. He had me there. “Hmm.” The right way. Is there really such a thing as right and wrong? Or did it come down to Just you and them? Two sides of the same coin? I look down at my hands, unable to look him in the eye anymore. “Still feel like you’re following me.”

“Maybe it’s not you I am following.” His response makes me freeze, and then surprisingly relax. That is a loaded response…but maybe. Just maybe.

He reaches his hand down across the table, pinky touching mine and interrupting my thoughts.

I loop my pinky with his. Looking down at our entwined fingers. His pinky finger is calloused but warm. I hope he couldn’t tell how sweaty my hand was while being hooked on my pinky.

“Where do you see yourself five years from now?” I asked, still staring at our pinkies.

His inhale makes me look up, and I can’t make the expression on his face. “You don’t ask easy questions.”

“You’re one to talk.” I fire back.

We both dissolve into giggles. I just feel giddy, and his smile in intoxicating. For the first time, I feel clean. Like I don’t have to hide. 

“In five years? A promotion, with better pay and better hours. My schedule now is nowhere near stable, but a set work schedule would be nice. And hopefully, a relationship. I’m a little young to think about starting a family, but I want that someday, and in 5 years, I hope to have that person by my side.” He answers, taking hold of my whole hand as he finishes.

“Hmm. That sounds nice.” I say absent mindedly, imaging what a family would even feel like.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” He squeezes my hand in reassurance.

Dead. For a cause that I am not even sure I believe in.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Right now, my work keeps me busy, as well as in the moment. Success is seen in immediate results. Long term is not something I am looking at yet” I try to keep it vague.

“You haven’t thought about it?” He pushes.

But pushing starts to irritate me, and I snap back with, “I’m young, what’s there to worry about? Who cares for future.” I say in a huff. A dark look overtakes my face and I pull my hand away. Hands in my lap, looking at him in all his handsome goodness. Curse life for dangling him in my face. His eyes are filled with sympathy as if he could possibly understand what it was like to not know what happens tomorrow. To have your fate completely out of your own hands.

“Princess, you asked the question.” He pauses then leans a little more forward. He looks so open. “I don’t know what you’re caught up in. But I have friends. People that could help-“

“Woah let me stop you right there. I do not need saving. I am perfectly fine thank you very much. I don’t know what you think you know, But I can tell you, You are wrong. I have a well paying job that provides for me, I get to travel, I-“ I loose track of where I was going with this. How do you try and stand up for living a life you don’t want? “Rex,” I sigh. “I’m fine. You will just come to find that I tend to be pessimistic at times.” I offer up.

He just looks at me, taking in the sight of me. I wonder what he sees?

Then he reads my mind and goes, “When I look at you, I see a strong, beautiful ruthless young woman with her whole life ahead of her. But you have this look in your eye. You’re not happy. Not even close.”

“How do you know?” I shake my head.

“I recognize that look because I used to stare at it in the mirror every day. Until I found a way to stop living like that.” He offers. Rex cocks his head at me, looking concerned and sympathetic. I hate it. I can’t understand why he cares.

“Sounds easy.”

“Hardly.”

The silence seems comforting. I don’t feel as alone as I normally do.

“I’d gladly let you ruin me if you asked.” Left my mouth unbidden.

First, I see surprise flash across his face. Determination settles in its place.

He pulls out a card, and slides it across the table. I don’t look at it, just slip it in my pocket.

Rex goes to say something, But at that moment, the door to the 24-7 café we’re in opens.

When I connect with his eyes, all I feel is dread. The anger is rolling off him in waves. The card heavy in my pocket.

Rex must notice the color drain from my face because he turns slightly and catches sight of Maul.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper to Rex, as Maul approaches with long strides. He arrives at our little table in just a few steps.

“Let’s go.” Is not question. “I’ve been requested to make sure you arrive home safe. Your mother was worried.” His deep voice oozes with thinly veiled venom and misplaced passiveness.

“Is everything all right?” I hear, Rex’s tone firm, calm and dangerous. I look over at him, and the look he is shooting at Maul rocks me off balance. He looks positively murderous. Never could I image his face set in stone like this.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Maul sneers, slowly moving his gaze to Rex. The heat in their stare was almost Nuclear. As if at any moment, they would collide and explode on each other, leaving devastation in their wake.

"Everything is fine John,” I quickly say making sure not to give his real name out, hand reaching out to his and I go to stand up.

His gaze shifts to me and his eyes soften. “It was nice talking to you princess. Stay Safe out there.”

I softly smile and look to Maul. His eyes burn me, promising trouble that he will enjoy, and that I certainly will not. “Well? Let’s go then.” I bark out bitterly.

We turn and leave.

It took everything in me not to look back.

 Paris, France 05/21/2067 02:15

The whole drive was silent on the way back to the manor, but the smugness was rolling off Maul in waves. I didn’t know what lied ahead of me. But I did know one thing. Rex knew I was trouble. This could go one of two ways. I could give rex up, milk him for what he knows and dispose of him. The thought twisted painfully in my chest, and it became hard to breath. Or I could toss Rex a bone. Slowly bring down the cause. I’d be betraying everything I had known. But what was a cause that killed and stole for their own gains? An Ideal that the Republic is the oppressor while simultaneously oppressing not only those they deem an enemy to the cause, but to their very supporters as well. That idea made the weight on my heart ease a bit.

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?

When we arrived at the manor, I was hesitant. The place held a blanket of doom that did little to keep the cold out. Maul stalked forwards while I meekly followed behind. I was scared. Maul was excited.

We entered the haunted manor and made our way to the main parlor. In the room stood the Count, my Mother, and Him. The Chancellor of the separatist movement. Everything about him was absolutely Sidious. My mother’s face was blank. Just an empty shell with her face. The Count looked bored. Maul looked like a dog, drooling for a bone.

“Hello, my darling girl.” His voice was like poison. It took everything in me not to flinch. “I have a job for you.”

Here. We. Go.

  Paris, France 05/21/2067 04:00

I lied there, in my own blood and vomit. Left alone to pick myself up.

The Humiliation of this night will forever be burned into my spine. All for what?

To test my strength, He said. To assure everyone but more importantly to assure myself, that I have the will to continue this path. To kill doubt that lingers within myself and within our circle about my abilities. After all, I was just a young girl. They needed proof of my loyalty. My undying loyalty. To remind myself that Peace is a lie. To become what I pretend to be, he said. To prove I am enough for this job, that I will see it through. No matter the pain, the costs.

“Tell me, do you have anything to say for yourself? To prove yourself worthy?” In all his Sidious might, he stood over me. Brand still glowing, the smell of burning flesh overtaken my senses. I looked over at my mother. She looked at me as if I was nothing. I didn’t recognize her anymore. 

Turn back to him, Looking him in the eye. “There is no peace, only passion.”

 His smile is wicked, and he continues.

  Paris, France 05/24/2067 13:47

I lay in bed, just staring at the wall. Ace by my side. I have to keep him from trying to lick my wounds.

I need to get up. I need a plan out of this. This…this isn’t me, right?

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion.”

I sit up, pushing myself through the pain.

“Through Passion, I gain Strength.”

Standing up was hard. My legs gave out, and I had to learn heavily on the bed until I could get my feet underneath me.

“Through Strength, I gain Power.”

I slowly make my way over the mirror.

“Through Power, I gain Victory”

The Woman looking back at me is unrecognizable.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.”

A lie. All I see are chains.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.” I repeat.

Tears cloud my vision, and I am filled with rage.

“Through Victory, My chains are broken.”  I whisper, before I slam My fist into the full-length mirror.

My knees hit the floor, digging into glass. I relish the pain.

“I am set Free.”

I reach for the Card.

Paris, France 05/24/2067 13:59

He picks up after the first ring. “Hello?” His voice deep, and rumbles through me. I take a deep breath.

“Did you know?” I ask, voice hoarse and sore, but full of force. No room for argument. 

“Princess, is that you?” I ignore the butterflies in my stomach at the nickname.

“Rex. Did you know when we first met? Back in D.C.?” I ask again. There’s no way he didn’t know now. Not with the way our late-night conversation went.

He sighs. “No. I didn’t know back then.” 

“You Promise?”

“I promise.”

“When did you find out?” My voice breaks.

His voice is soft when he replies, “I didn’t find out until after seeing you that afternoon at the cafe. I went back to the embassy after that and... well.”

I took a deep breath. He was honest with no hesitation. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. I believed it deep in my bones. 

“You let me walk away.” My vision starts to get blurry.

“I knew you’d make the right choice in the end. I believe in you.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” I whisper.

“Princess, are you ok? The other night you-

I choke out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m fine. Tell you’re bosses I’ll help. That’s what their expecting right?” 

I let out a sniffle. God, I’m really doing this.

“Look, Let’s talk about th-”

“No. No talking. One condition. You’re the person I talk to. No one else.”

A sigh. “I wish you would stop interrupting me.” His voice holds 1000s emotions, and I can’t place any of them. 

“Get used to it. Good-bye Rex. I’ll keep in touch.”

I hung up the phone. 

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[scarlethexelove]

can you please write Y/N and Wanda also Natasha is not dead here (up to you thooooo) , and Y/N pretty much replaced Vision. But before these events Natasha has always been there for Wanda, (after Endgame) so she didn’t make a hex but still griefed about Y/N and Wanda making a big move for Y/N’s reincarnation but in a good way. After Y/N being back from the dead. She learns that her soon to be wife has already fallen for Natasha and her reincarnation just meant nothing and Y/N didn’t go on with her life and ended it just there.

Wands regretted everything until she lost herself and made a big mess with the universe (pretty much MoM) and overall Wanda regretting everything, and when she gets us back (it can be Wanda taking another one of us in an another universe) or her just making us alive from the dead *this all can be up to you author*

I love your stories 🖤

I'm Sorry

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3590

Warnings: Cheating (Allusions to it but really it is there), Angst, Major character death, Mentions of Murdering innocent people, Angry Wanda, Suicide by others, Not really a happy ending, tiny bit of fluff like very little.

A/n: This one was fun. I hope I did it justice. I may have changed a little bit of it but I hope you still like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Everything hurts. You have a splitting headache and it feels like you got run over by a MACK truck. Your face scrunches up in pain, the lights too bright even with your eyes closed. Sensory overload has you curling in on yourself. Hands come up to clamp on your ears when you hear a voice, but it’s so loud and muffled that you don’t even know who is talking to you. All you want is for all of it to stop. You had been an experiment but that experience doesn’t compare to what you are feeling right now. 

“Nat turn the lights off.” Wanda orders the older woman in the room. Nat flicks the light off as she watches Wanda brush some hairs back. You let out a whimper at the contact. It breaks her heart seeing you like this. When her hand brushes against your skin she can feel you. She feels your pain. Red whisps leave her fingers slowly seeping into your skin. Soon enough the pain starts to dissipate. 

Wanda crawls in the bed behind you wrapping herself around your frame. You feel a body pressed against yours and you immediately know who it is. “Wanda.” You whisper. You turn around in her hold and nuzzle into her neck. “I’m here sweetheart.” Wanda combs her fingers through your hair. You're so tired and she feels like home. You fight to stay awake but her ministrations have your eyes closing. “It’s ok detka get some rest.” Wanda whispers and kisses the top of your head. You finally let yourself drift off to sleep. 

A little over 5 years ago the team was fighting Thanos. Your powers let you see brief points into the future. You saw that if you died that Wanda would be safe. Thanos needed you gone to get what he wants but you also saw that in the end the Avengers would win. The event that sets that in motion was your death. So as much as it pained you you let it happen. To save Wanda, to save the world. Wanda could move on but the fate of the universe was in your hands. 

“Wanda.” Nat says softly from the corner of the room. She looks at you curled into Wanda’s arms. A sight she had hoped to never see again. “Natty, she needs this.” Wanda says softly, still stroking your hair as you sleep. Nat just nods. It hurts but she knows it is something that Wanda had to do. 

Your mind races. Your dreams are of your last memories. The fight with Thanos and how you let him kill you just in order to save everyone else. Your body shoots straight up as your chest heaves from the memories. You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back but you haven’t quite gained control. You mind questioning how you are here. Why are you alive? You should be dead. That was all your mind could see and you had accepted that fact but here you are. Tears stream down your face. “Why?” You're not sure what you are asking, who you are asking the question of. You feel so small. “Why what detka?” Wanda asks you with concern on her face. “Why am I here? I should be dead.” Your voice breaks and Wanda’s heart hurts seeing you like this. 

Wanda starts explaining everything that had happened while you were gone. Excluding some details. They had worked tirelessly to bring back those that were snapped away. Wanda and Nat become the de facto leaders of the Avengers. It took 5 years but they finally did. Once that was done they set out to bring you back. It took some time but somehow when Bruce had snapped his fingers he was able to bring you back. But somehow you ended up in a pocket universe in a deep sleep. They were finally able to get you back safely. All the information flooding into your mind is a lot to handle but eventually you understand. Somehow the universe had different plans for you. 

It’s been a few months since you came back. Most things are the same but something seems off. Wanda hasn’t been as loving towards you. Before she was always so touchy and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets cuddling while watching some sitcoms. But now she barely even gives you a hug. Sleeping in the same bed has you feeling like she isn’t even there. She is a million miles away even if she is only right beside you. Your heart hurts not understanding, is she still mad at you for letting Thanos kill you. Anytime you try to talk to her she just brushes you off and says nothing is wrong. So you're left alone to your thoughts and worries.

Nat had moved into your shared home while you were away. The two women grew closer at the loss of so many others. You want to be angry and jealous that Nat gets more attention than you but you still trust Wanda hoping that she will come around eventually. 

You’re walking towards the kitchen when you can hear a hushed discussion between Wanda and Nat. You stop just shy of the door frame listening in when you hear your name mentioned. “Wanda you need to tell Y/n.” Nat says her body leaning on the counter and arms crossed against her chest. “Tell her what Nat?” Wanda counters. She sits at the table with a sad look adorning her face. “You know what Wands.” Wanda lets out a sigh. “I can’t do that to her Nat.” Wanda’s voice is low. “You can’t keep lying to her. You can’t keep lying to me. I love you Wanda.” There is a pause in the conversation before Wanda speaks up. “I love you too.” Your heart drops the moment the words spill from Wanda’s mouth. 

You’re quick to turn on your heels as the tears start to stream down your face. Holding in a sob as it all makes sense now. In your absence the two had fallen in love. You’ve somehow become the other woman in Wanda’s life. You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. Your powers should have felt this but they hadn’t and now you’re left heartbroken. You push into your shared room focusing on pulling yourself back together. You can’t let them know that you know until you figure out what to do. 

The buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your despair for the moment. You see Fury’s name flash on the screen. You quickly wipe your tears and answer the phone. “Sir.” You say masking the waver in your voice. “Y/l/n I have a mission for you. Since you have been cleared for duty I would like you to head out tonight with Barton and Barnes. I have sent over the reports for you to go over. Good luck out there and glad to have you back.” The phone line goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. You open the report sent to your phone. You now see the flashes in your mind of how the mission will go. And that is where you see it. What you’re going to do. 

That night you enter the Quinjet greeted by the two men. Hugs and joy at your return. Your powers are always a significant help to missions. You three go over the plans for the mission. You lay out what you had seen in your vision, excluding one crucial part that the men don’t need to know. You know if they did they would try and stop you. But your heart aches and you put on a fake smile so that no one would expect a thing. 

Everything was set to go. A long message meant to play for Wanda after it was already too late. This would be your last mission. Wanda and Nat would have all that they could ever want. You wouldn’t be the burden that you know you are. They should have just left you dead if they were going to do this to you. So you made that decision for them. You weren’t going to come back from this mission alive. 

The mission was going perfectly. Playing out exactly as you had seen it. Bucky and Clint were together and far away from you. You snuck into the building off the side. It held some hostages that had been taken by Hydra. You snuck in taking out every agent that you passed. It didn’t take long for you to make it to the hostages. You were able to release them from their binds and get them out of the building safely. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. Bucky and Clint were waiting exactly where you told them too. Having each hostage run towards them for safety while you stood with your back towards the open area. 

You waited knowing what was to come soon. You could change the outcome but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be in a world where Wanda loved someone else. You waited with bated breath as the last hostage ran towards your teammates. You exhale the air in your lungs before a sharp pain in your stomach is felt. You grit your teeth turning around firing off a few rounds, but you're hit with another round to the shoulder. You can hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Clint calling out for you but you push through. Another shot to the leg sends you kneeling on the ground. You push through the pain as you stand. A few steps forward as you unload your mag into the man. Another man appears with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You watch as an arrow sores through the air and hits the man directly in the chest. His finger squeezes the trigger as he falls. You’re hit with the array of bullets. Your body sways before falling to your knees then falling to the ground. The ground below you stains red as your body goes cold. 

Wanda felt a change in the universe. She cries out causing Nat to panic next to her. Wanda clutches her chest in pain. She felt this twice before. Once when Pietro died, the second when you died fighting Thanos. She had never wanted to feel that pain again but here she is feeling it. The world stops turning at that moment. Not again she thinks tears streaming down her face. 

The doorbell rings but Wanda doesn’t hear it. Nat tries to console the younger woman pleading for her to tell her what is going on. It continues to ring when no one answers until Nat gets up and finds out what is going on. Wanda sits sobbing on the couch. Nat walks back in with a folded paper with your hand writing on it. Wanda scribbled on the top. 

Wanda sees this snatching the paper from her hands and quickly opening it before reading the words delicately written across the page. 

My dearest Wanda,

You’re reading this because I’m gone. I’m sorry to do this to you

but I can’t live life like this. I know that you no longer love me.

I see the way you look at Natasha and I know she is now

the love of your life. I want you to be happy. I saw this coming

and I could have changed it but who am I to keep you from the 

one you love. Don’t mourn for me, just live your life. You don’t

have to worry about me anymore and you can be happy, that 

is all I have ever wanted for you. But my love I can’t live in

a world where you love someone else. So this is goodbye.

Love,

Y/N

Tears hit the paper blurring the words in front of her. Wanda’s heart shatters into a million pieces. How could this have happened? How could she have thrown away all that you two have? She is absolutely disgusted with herself and with Nat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go but she was blinded and now her eyes are finally open but now it could be too late.

Through the tears Wanda gets up making her way out the door and immediately taking off towards the compound. Her magic lifts her into the sky as she flies as fast as she possibly can to the one place she knows you would be. Praying that maybe it was all wrong, maybe you can be saved. Nat calls out for her as she leaves her alone standing in the yard. 

The ground cracks below Wanda’s feet as she lands hard on the ground. Anger and guilt pumping through her veins as she walks towards the building. Her magic slamming doors open as she makes her way to the med bay. Your body is already lying there. Bucky and Clint talking outside the room. Windows lining the wall as they keep looking back at your body. Wondering what they would tell the angry redhead but they didn’t have to wait too long. They spot Wanda fear and sorrow on their faces. “Wanda we can -” Clint is cut off. “Save it.” 

Wanda makes her way into the room. The boys walked away looking like kicked puppies. Wanda’s breath picks up as she sees your still body encased in a black bag. The top half of it unzipped revealing your pale skin and blood staining your suit. You look so peaceful like you could be sleeping. Wanda cups your cheek, a light jerk of her hand when she feels how cold you are. She lets her magic slip out the ends of her fingers going into your head. Fresh tears streaming down her face. “I can’t feel you.” A sob wracking her body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry love you never deserved any of this.”

Wanda silently sobs as she sits next to you. Your hand in hers as she just stares blankly at your body. The door clicks open a while later. Wanda doesn’t turn to look. “Go away.” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying but she doesn’t care. “Wands.” Nat whispers. “I said leave.” Wanda’s voice raises as her head snaps towards the door red swirling in her eyes. Nat knows she is just upset so she doesn’t back down. “Detka.” She whispers. “Don’t you dare detka me.” Wanda stands letting your hand drop off the side of the bed. “This is all your fault. She is fucking dead because of you.” Wanda seethes. “Don’t put that blame on me Wanda. You're just as much the problem.” Wanda stalks towards Nat red surrounding her body and slamming her into the window, a crack forming behind her body. “Don’t you fucking dare blame me. It should have been you. You should have died back then. I would still have her. She is more of a woman than you will ever be. I let myself be blinded by you. Blinded by the love you gave but I didn’t love you. I don’t fucking love you.” As hard as Nat can be, Wanda's words cut deep. Tears shine in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Wanda sends Nat’s body flying through walls until she lands outside. Wanda follows as she does so. Releasing Nat’s body which is now battered and bruised. She then flies off into the night. 

It’s been months since anyone has seen Wanda, held up in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains. Some have tried but they always get blasted out so they stopped trying. She has been lost to the Avengers and they aren’t sure they could ever get her back. The day they lost you they also lost her. 

Wanda’s black tipped fingers comb through a book. A very dangerous book. The more she searches the darkness in her soul grows and the blacked tips grow. She has tried everything in the book to bring you back to life but none of it works. She had another attempt today, something new, something hopeful but it ends with a magical outburst throwing everything in the cabin. She continues to comb through the pages ignoring the disarray around her. She closes her eyes and lets her magic do the work. It’s not long before she finds something new. She thought she had seen all that this book had to offer. All that the Darkhold had to offer to the Scarlet Witch. 

You are sitting in your living room, two small boys cuddled into each of your sides as you watch a movie. Empty bowls of ice cream sitting on the coffee table that you have your feet propped up on. You laugh as your son Tommy tries to mimic you. You other son Billy giggling along. Tommy huffs and crosses his arms. “Not funny.” He mumbles. You can’t help but ruffle his hair which makes him swat at your hand causing you to chuckle. “One day buddy you will reach it.” You kiss the top of his head. All of you falling back into the silence, the only sound is the movie playing. 

Your mind flashes to a vision of Wanda but not your Wanda standing in the middle of your living room. Her face twisted into something you can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams from the woman you loved. The pain that she has caused to get to this point. As your world comes back to you you are met with a star shaped portal in the middle of your living room. What was once an image in your head now in front of you. 

Wanda’s hand wraps around the young girl's throat in front of you. “What did you do?” She seethes. The two boys next to you are terrified. You quickly stand and tell them to run but Wanda’s head snaps towards you. The couch you were once on is now thrown at the stairs blocking the way. You push your boys behind you in a protective manner. Wanda’s eyes trailing the boys curiously, a small warm spot forming in her heart seeing your protective nature. She didn’t expect to find you with kids but she always wanted a family with you so it can’t hurt. 

“Wanda!” You yell at her. Wanda is startled by the anger in your voice. You have never yelled at her like that. “Let the girl go.” You demand of her. Her hand slips from the girl's neck as she coughs on the ground holding her throat. Wanda starts stalking towards you but you back up with your boys behind you. 

Billy tugs on your shirt a little trying to get your attention and you quickly look back at him. “Is that Mama?” His voice sounds so small. Your attention quickly turns back to the woman in front of you who has stopped. You can see tears in her eyes at Billy’s words. “That is not your Mama.” You shake your head. You can see the hurt on Wanda’s face as she gets closer to you. “I can be.” She says a crack in her voice. 

You start to walk towards the woman but your boys try to stop you. You motion that you will be ok as you stand in front of Wanda. “You could never be my Wanda.” She falls to her knees, her hand on her chest as she looks up at you. “I can see your hurt and your pain but you have caused so much more and for what.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I did it for you.” She whispers. “I would never want you to do this for me. Wanda you murdered people. Good people.” Wanda stands back up and moves towards you, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You back up away from her touch. “I wanted you back.” You scoff and shake your head. “After seeing what you did I could never want you. I miss my Wanda but you are not her and could never be.” 

Wanda’s face twists in anger. You try to back up again but she is quicker this time. She grabs your wrist in her hands. “Wanda that hurts.” You whimper as she digs her nails in. “Too bad. I’ll make you love me just you see. Now that I have you back I will never let you go again.” There is a panic that rises in you. “We will have the perfect little family.” She looks behind you. “Won’t we boys?” They are too scared to say or do anything just holding onto each other for comfort. 

Wanda keeps one hand on you as she turns around. Her wrist flicking as America is thrown back through the portal. It dissipates from the middle of the room before she turns back to you. You struggle to get free but she is stronger than you remember. She clicks her tongue and looks at you, her hand finally reaching to cup your cheek. Red whisps leave her fingers as they sink into your mind. “All mine now.” She replaces every memory and thought of your Wanda with her. Changes the fear to love. You’re hers now and no one will change that. Her magic soon flowed into the boys having the perfect little family. She would tear the world in two to keep you and the boys forever. 

[avelera]

Let's Play: What's Wrong with this Sculpture?

Following in the theme of sharing astonishing moments of ancient sculpture pedantry here on Tumblr, based on my brief undergraduate stint as a T.A of ancient art history, I thought I'd share one of my other proudest moments of being an absolutely insufferable know-it-all about ancient sculptures.

In the process, I hope I can also share some of the sort of largely useless (from a practical perspective) information that Tumblr tends to glory in, so buckle up buttercups.

This question was posed to me on a walking tour of the Capitoline Museum in my ancient art history class while I was living abroad. Our professor, a delightfully curmudgeonly Belgian, stopped in front and asked us to figure out why this sculpture is just plain wrong.

I intend to walk you through the process of how I got the right answer and, after gaining my teacher's rare approval, glowed with enough serotonin to power a small nuclear reactor.

So, let's return to the original question: what is wrong with this sculpture?

Because if you are truly eagle-eyed you should be able to spot what very famous sculpture this actually is, before an overly imaginative Frenchman brought it back wrong.

Hint #1: It was incorrectly restored.

Look closely at the the difference of the patina, or color of the stone. It's a bit hard to tell in this photo, but the head was added later. It's a paler white than the core of the torso, which is what we have of the original sculpture.

Hint #2: It was incorrectly restored in the 18th century by a Frenchman (Pierre-Étienne Monnot) who made some, shall we say, creative interpretations of what's going on here.

You can tell it's by an 18th c. Frenchman because the facial features are so delicate. Ancient statues tend to have less narrow and delicate chins and noses. In general, that is a dead giveaway when something is 18th century French vs. Ancient Greek or Roman.

Here's a good example. The first sculpture is 18th c. French, the second is the famous Venus de Milo. Note her blockier chin and less delicate features. So in the future, you can tell these sort of later additions to Greek or Roman sculptures if they added a new head because 17-19th century sculptors in Europe had tools (like finer drill tips) and tastes (beauty standards that favored more delicate men and women) that led to a pronounced difference in the faces.

Hint #3: Check out the anatomy of his lower shoulder. That's another addition, that arm should not be coming straight out of a torso where the muscle, if you look closely, is turned inward.

Seriously, that looks painful.

Hint #4: The sword he's holding up is just total nonsense for the Roman era. I mean, the restoration makes no secret of the fact that this sword is a later addition, but it's also just an absolute nonsense sword with its silly little curved cross guard. This Frenchman literally just made it up.

Here's an ancient sculpture with a sword in it that actually looks right:

From the Ludovisi Gaul, a famous Hellenistic Baroque work of Greek sculpture. Note the much blockier sword though I will admit, it could be a later addition, I don't know for 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure it's the original. Regardless, it fits the sculpture much better and let me add that sword I'm criticizing is completely made up for the sculpture we're talking about and is not there in the original sculpture that was incorrectly restored.

Ok, so those are all the hints.

Look closely at the body of the first sculpture. Cut away the arms that are not connected to the body correctly, the sword that shouldn't be there, the face that was far too delicate. When you separate those later additions out, can you tell me what sculpture that actually is?

Because here is the reveal!

The Discus Thrower, aka, the Discobolus by Myron.

The French restorationist got carried away by his own imagination, saw a twisted torso and thought it could only possibly be a warrior in the midst of twisting around to fend off a blow, not an athlete in the midst of a demonstration of skill. It's a martial, fanciful read that completely misinterpreted the subject.

This is why most restoration today employs a much lighter touch, rather than trying to reattach pieces incorrectly, they tend to just outline where the missing pieces are with a light sketch of an educated guess of what might have actually been there. Faulty restorations like the Capitoline Discobolus is one reason for this modern stylistic principle when it comes to restoration work.

When my professor asked us to identify the correct original sculpture that day on the museum tour, it was the sword that pinged me as wrong first, but zeroing in on the core of the sculpture, the torso, is what revealed the true statue underneath.

This notoriously difficult to please professor was very proud when I blurted out, "It's the Discus Thrower!" and the high-octane serotonin I got from his approval probably could have propelled me into the sun that day, and brought to you Yet Another Moment of Ancient Sculpture Pedantry.

[cherryredstars]

Hiii cherry♥️ i have a request for simon🙃🫠 ok so smth where they kidnap his civilian wife and he's losing his mind trying to find and save her😣😫 also she's pregnant but he doesn't know🥲 love your writing mwah mwah💋💋♥️♥️

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst(???), Mentions of Kidnapping, Mentions to Simon’s Trauma, Happy Ending

Summary: His worst fear has come true. 

Word Count: 1.5K (Unedited)

He’s loosing his fucking mind. 

Of course, right when he got comfortable. Right when all these fears started to melt away. Right when he was happy and he had a family again. Everything always goes to shit for him. He can't have a single good thing. History repeats itself. Again and again and again. He should have known. He should have known better. He knew better. He shouldn’t have gotten close to someone again.

Six good years. Six peaceful years.That’s what he got. Six years without any threats, or blackmailing, or discovering. Six years of learning how to love and be loved. Six years of finally having a home again. Six years isn't enough. He wants more damnit. If you’ve taught him anything, it's that he deserves more. And he’d be damned if he didn’t fight for it. Fight for you. But in order to do that he has to fight through this… this fog in his head. This murky fuzziness that shadows in the corners of his mind. It makes his trained focus wane. 

He can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes. He’s zoning out. One second he’s thinking strategies in a briefing room, then his eyes are floating past Price’s shoulders and he’s looking at the fucking wall. You’re missing and all Simon, or Ghost, or he can do is look at the fucking concrete walls like a fucking idiot. Any sounds are just white noise, a soft, distant buzzing. He doesn’t process anything. It’s not going through one ear and out the other. No, it’s not even reaching him. He’s not even thinking about anything as he sits there. It’s all just blank, empty. 

He’s claustrophobic too. He can’t sit in a room for too long. Can’t stand too close to any single person. Fuck going to the mess for food or training or meetings or even being on base. He can’t even fucking spend more than an hour in his barrick before he can see the walls shrinking in on him. It makes his breath quicken and he races out of there quickly. But there isn’t anywhere else he can go. He can’t even stomach the thought of going to your shared home. He knows the second he steps in he’ll feel like a traitor, a murderer, and an accomplice to your abduction. He won’t survive that, he can’t. It feels like he’s back in that fucking coffin again. 

He needs to get up and walk around. His body demands it. He… he needs to be doing something. He just doesn’t know what. So he trains and works out and runs laps over a thousand times. He bounces his knees when he sits. He shifts in his chair no matter how comfortable it is. He picks at loose threads on his gloves and he fidgets with his combat gear. He cleans and disassembles his guns and puts them back together. He does paperwork, or he attempts to. He can’t focus on the words and he can’t get his words right. He spends the time in his office bouncing his knee and clicking his pen and sweating because even though the window is open he can see the walls caving in from the corner of his eye. Nothing is right. Nothing he does is ever right. 

He’s just so tired.

In the late hours of the night, usually on the nights he comes back from deployment or had a god awful nightmare, he would lay awake with you. The two of you facing each other, breathing in each other’s exhales as he played with your hair. He would lean in close and whisper into the still air, I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s the truth. Look at him now: an unfunctional mess with less capabilities than a bloody piece of paper. He’s absolutely useless without you. I don’t know what I would do without you, he had said. Guess he knows now, and his future doesn’t look very promising, (not that it would last more than a couple of hours if you weren’t ever saved). 

He isn’t the only one who sees how he’s losing his mind. Everyone sees it. Johnny, Price, Gaz, even fucking Laswell. It makes him want to laugh. In fact, he does laugh in Price’s face. It’s funny, really. Really goddamn funny. Price and the lot of them. He won’t admit that he feels like he’s backed into a corner. That he’s seconds away from barring claws and fangs at them. He thinks he’s really fucking funny.

“You’re not going on this mission, Simon. I’m not signing off on it.”

Ghost wants to roll his eyes. Of course Simon isn’t going to go. That weak, emotional twat would get killed in seconds. Ghost is going. Not Simon, never Simon. Not anymore. But Price is looking at him like he’s fucking stupid. Like he’s dense and missing something. Then it clicks. If Simon isn’t going… that also means Ghost isn’t going. Two lives in one he realizes. Ghost and Simon. Simon and You. 

“Like fucking hell I’m not going!” Both of them growl, Simon and Ghost together. For your sake, he can get his mind straight. There is no fucking way that he isn’t going to go out there and save you. Leave your life-  the only life that matters in this damn world- in the hands of someone else? He thinks absolutely fucking not. He just hopes Price doesn’t see the thickening film over his eyes that’s been developing since you’ve been gone. 

“It’s too personal for you. At this rate, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

The anger coursing through his bones is strong and vibrating. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides and he feels like he can breathe fire. “Yeah? Things between the two of us are about to get fucking personal.”

Price does nothing but look at him calmly. He gives Ghost a pat on the shoulder, one that he quickly brushes off, and… walks away. It leaves Simon fuming, but as he stands there, his mind drifts again. And it floats and it flutters and his mind has gone blank again. His anger dies down to nothingness. He hates when that old geezer is right. 

______________________________________

It’s made final. He watches them through the cameras in Laswell’s room. Yeah, he’s on Laswell’s personal assistant duty. He’s standing besides her, brooding as the rest of 141 board the chopper. He watches as it slowly begins to lift off the pad, and in a few seconds, it’s flying away. Laswell gives him what’s supposed to be a comforting pat on the shoulder, but Simon just stands there, looking at the empty helicopter pad. 

He spends the rest of the time blanking out. He doesn’t really care for what Laswell is saying to her team on base, telling them to check coordinates and statuses and whatnot. Every now and then, one of the lads says something in comms that fills the room with static words. It all just sounds like white noise. Simon only realizes that they retrieved that target when Laswell shakes his shoulders and gives them a tight squeeze. It takes him a minute or two, his mind trying to channel in. But then it hits. It registers in his mind and in his heart and in his body. The fuzzy edges of his mind recede and everything looks sharper than it has in the past week and a half. 

You’re coming home. He sags, head buried in his hands. His shoulders shake as he cries. 

Even when the tears dry, he stays in that position until the boys get back. He jumps up, following behind Laswell to the medical center. The rest of 141 is there already, conversing about the briefing they will have to go to afterwards. When they hear the two of them approaching, they quieten up and smile. Simon doesn’t give them the chance to say anything before he pulls each of them into a hug, muttering that he owes each of them one. When he gets to Price, he holds onto him the longest, thank yous rushing from his mouth. When he finally pulls away, he asks how you are. 

Price smiles, slapping his shoulder firmly, “Both are fine. Just check ups.”

Simon furrows, looking at Price, “There was another hostage?”

He’s confused when no one answers, looking around. He wants to slap the wide smile off of all their faces. Have they gone manic or something? 

His attention draws back to Price as he chuckles, “Her and the baby.”

Simon feels his breath escape his lungs, his mind getting light headed. He might just cry again. He wastes no time walking into the room, eyes wide as he looks to the bed. You’re conversing casually with the nurse, hand resting on your stomach. When they both hear him enter, the both of you quiet and turn. You smile at him, opening your mouth to say something that never escapes as he rushes you. His hug is bone crushing, but you let him have it. 

You’re finally back. You and the baby.

[merakiui]

AAAAA ok so. You're one of my favorite authors here on Tumblr and slkssnlssksn I'm so nervous waaaa thanks for taking your time to brainrot with us <3 I'm in love with your writing and your delicious concepts and how you execute them oh god and when you write about stinky greasy incel Idia OK I'm gonna stop and actually order aaa

Can I please get assorted macaroons with a lacy lingerie along with a hint of sea salt caramels and a finishing touch of a pineapple parfait with Floyd and Jade, together? Something sweet and cute but with a lingering feeling of uneasiness <3 Hope it's well-ordered! Please and thank you very much!! 🥹

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy relationship/behaviors, drugging, implied captivity, brief mentions of implied nsfw, obsession note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴊᴀᴅᴇ ʟᴇᴇᴄʜ & ꜰʟᴏʏᴅ ʟᴇᴇᴄʜ

☆ Your “wedding” was unofficial, a quiet ceremony without an audience. Jade dressed you for the occasion, prettying you up as if you were a doll. You certainly felt so as you watched your reflection in the mirror, drifting in and out of a daze. Floyd poked at your shoulder to rouse you, giggling about his “sweet, sleepy Shrimpy.” When the wedding bands were slid on your ring fingers—the left for Floyd and the right for Jade—it became official. They kissed you on both cheeks and promised you a future filled with love and happiness. You couldn’t protest; there was no room for such a thing, not when Floyd’s mouth was already closing over yours.

☆ The first five days are for Floyd, and the next five will be Jade’s. They planned it together, all with your and their shared interests in mind. The first five days of your honeymoon are spent at a tropical resort. You delight in local cuisine and beautiful sights, allowing the twins to hold your hands while you walk between them. They spoil you rotten, buying all sorts of clothes and jewelry to add to your wardrobe, trinkets that catch your eye, sweets you seem to fancy. Money has never been an issue, which is why everything feels so grand and lavish. You’re taken to the beach, to a quiet, desolate strip that few tourists know of. Towels are laid out; an umbrella is propped. Floyd drags you towards the sea, eager to shed his human form and swim with you. Jade reads in the shade, occasionally glancing up from his book to watch you.

☆ As the sun shifts through the sky, you tire yourself out. Between swimming with Floyd, sunbathing alongside Jade, and indulging in a picnic with both, you’re plenty sluggish by the day’s end. They snap your picture just as you feel yourself falling, giggling to each other about how cute you look. The twins intend to capture many of your best (and possibly worst) moments during the entirety of this honeymoon. When the secret contents of your lunch catch up to you and render you sleepy, you assume it’s just the result of a long day sapping your energy. It makes you pliable, has you dragging them into bed when you’re oscillating between slumber and wakefulness. The camera shutters, capturing you curled up against Floyd in bed—perfectly, peacefully asleep.

☆ The twins take turns cooking for you. Mornings are for Floyd. He prepares all types of breakfasts, all with your favorites. You think he has too much fun in the kitchen because some meals are decorated cutely—pancakes looking like cats and bears and fruit cut into stars and hearts. Jade takes care of lunch and snacks throughout the day. They work together on dinner. It’s a guarantee that you’ll always feast on delicious meals regardless of which twin cooks. Strangely, the meals are so delicious that they leave you sleepy or, in some cases, achingly hot. The twins take good care of you whenever this happens. Maybe something just didn’t agree with your stomach… It’s nothing to worry about. They’re here for you.

☆ As the days wear on, you find yourself swamped in love. Whether you’re enjoying mornings down at the beach, exploring and shopping in town, touring popular destinations, or enjoying drinks on the balcony at sunset, the twins are always by your side. Floyd clings, his arm perpetually wrapped around your waist. Jade likes to slide his hand into yours, holding it with such a gentle fondness. He kisses your knuckles softly, eyeing the rings on your fingers with a pleased smile.

☆ Jade booked quite the quaint cabin for his half of the honeymoon. For the next five days, the three of you will see endless, sprawling pines from your spot in the mountains. He’s got a vague itinerary in mind, but it’s subject to change as you get through these five days. Surprises are more than welcome. The cabin is so cozy, equipped with all the necessities for a trip such as this one. It even has a fireplace. Jade is much too eager to gather and chop firewood even though it’s already supplied.

☆ He takes you out on hikes through the woods, pointing out flora and fauna as you encounter them. His eyes are sparkling the entire time. Floyd’s not as into it as Jade is, but he does enjoy walking alongside you and taking pictures of your most candid moments. You’ve been feeling groggy ever since breakfast, so you’re not nearly as alert as you usually are. Floyd takes this as his opportunity to snap your photo when you least expect it and to steal quick kisses. Jade thinks it’s so cute that you can hardly keep your eyes open. He promises the lot of you will turn around and head back after he gathers just a few more mushrooms for tonight’s dinner. You’re lying down for a nap by the time you make it back, the sun dipping below the horizon. You think you feel the bed depressing under Jade’s weight, his hands ghosting over your clothes to help change you into something comfortable. You let it happen.

☆ This place is oddly isolated. The locals are sweet, though. When Jade tells them you’re here on honeymoon, they all smile and tell you to have fun, to enjoy these special moments, to feel lucky that you have two husbands who adore you so very much. You thank them with a pleasant smile. Jade and Floyd keep their hands on you beneath the table during lunch. Even if you wanted to say something, you couldn’t. They make sure of that. And if you seem paranoid, they wave it off casually. Jade tells anyone who asks that you just love the variety of mushrooms here, especially the fun kinds. You’re not sure what he means until much later when you’ve digested your meal and your vision blurs. Jade’s there to steady you before you can fall over, petting your head in that affectionate way and cooing at you to calm down. It’s your honeymoon. You deserve to relax. His sharp, overly sweet smile is all you see in your dreams.

☆ Honeymoons are especially exciting because they come with amenities fitting for the occasion. A complimentary bottle of wine, luxury chocolates, condoms… Floyd tosses that last one aside. You won’t need them. If you insist on using protection for whatever reason, Jade will ease your worries with a placid smile. He’ll indulge your request. He wears one, yes, but then it’s not a guarantee that this one hasn’t been tampered with in some way. You’ll never know. Floyd’s a bit more difficult to convince. He adores cumming inside and then felching it out of your slick hole. You shiver through it all, clawing at the sheets as you melt beneath them. Your husbands pamper you excessively, so don’t think about anything and just enjoy yourself.

☆ The mountains are peaceful. Unlike the tropical paradise you previously came from, things are slower here. You enjoy watching the sunrise cut through the trees in the mornings, sitting at the window with Jade and Floyd. You sleep late into the afternoon, sandwiched between both of them. Floyd’s an early riser, so breakfast is always waiting for you when you and Jade eventually wake. It’s quiet bliss. You sit and sketch nature alongside Jade in the afternoon, who adores every little line you make with your pencil. He tells you so, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth when you pout and insist his is better. There’s no competition here, and even if there was he will always love yours more. When night falls Floyd prepares a campfire. You roast marshmallows for s’mores. Floyd dances around the firepit, singing gleefully and pulling you up from the log to dance alongside him. Firelight reflects off of your rings. It’s a wonderful honeymoon.

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

(Another two-part-er! Stay tuned for part 2 very shortly!)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). One comically graphic description of cannibalism (first paragraph). Also, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect a lil angst sprinkled in there (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

Ok... I'm gonna be honest folks, I have no idea if this fic is even coherent. This ain't my Best Work™ - this is literally the coping mechanism I've been relying on to put myself to sleep every night this week because HOLY SHIT my life is stressful at the moment. 😅

But anyway, I've decided I'm just gonna go ahead and post it, because 1) the world needs more lee!alastor, and 2) I'm not here to do my Best Work™, I'm here to write cute self-indulgent little stories about Alastor getting tickled to bits by his platonic wife. I'm here to decompress my hypervigilant ass at the end of long days by imagining my favorite endearingly creepy characters get wrecked by my other favorite endearingly creepy characters.

In summary, I'm here to have a good time, and I certainly did with this fic. So I hope you do too!

Featuring my new oc! (Rosie and Al still take center stage though, don't worry lol)

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

It's a little-known fact that cannibals make terrific doctors. When you spend every meal tearing the human body apart with your face, you end up with a pretty comprehensive intuition for demonic anatomy.

So Alastor supposed he should consider himself lucky to have Rosie and her loyal posse so close at hand after his battle with Adam.

He was certainly relieved when Rosie had stumbled upon him, barely conscious from blood loss on the floor of his wrecked radio tower - and especially a few hours later when, having been rushed back to Cannibal Town, he was whisked into a warm, familiar parlor and deposited on a comfy couch.

Within minutes Rosie had summoned a woman in a white coat who swooped in, produced a bottle of a strange, foul-smelling gel from her medicine bag, soaked a rag with it, and pressed it firmly against Alastor's wound. The searing pain evaporated almost on contact.

"What is that?" Alastor breathes, visibly relaxing against the arm of the couch he's propped against.

"Anesthetic." She begins preparing a needle and thread.

"Didn't know such a thing existed down here."

"Of course! We're demons, not barbarians," Rosie scoffs, watching from the sidelines.

Cannibals, as a rule, rarely last long enough to need a doctor, but Rosie is no ordinary cannibal. And Dr. Trudy Sawblade - a young surgical resident in life, and Rosie's personal physician in death - is the best of the best. While she hadn't quite completed her medical training before her untimely death, in Rosie's service she's gained more than enough experience to make up for her education cut short.

"That salve is derived from a distant cousin of the poison dart frog. Evidently most of the frogs are assholes, because hell has an downright enormous population of them." Trudy's voice is measured and matter-of-fact, with a soft lilt that is both soothing and vaguely unsettling. "Haven't been discovered on earth yet. Which is good, because one whiff of this would end a mortal life in a matter of seconds."

"Lucky you, you're already dead," Rosie chimes in cheerfully.

"Lucky me," Alastor murmurs, without conviction.

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

Truthfully, with the pain from his chest wound numbed, the weight of his recent defeat presses even more heavily on Alastor's heart. Someone - probably one of the cannibals who helped transport him from the rubble pile to Rosie's parlor - must have grabbed the broken microphone as they carried him out, because the fractured pieces are sitting on the side table at the other end of the couch. Under normal circumstances the awareness that someone had touched his staff without permission would spark a flash of rage from the Radio Demon, but now he can only stare dismally at what remains of his cane - aware that it's no longer capable of accomplishing much anyway.

It takes only a few minutes for Trudy to stitch Alastor back up and wrap his chest in a stretchy gauze. Meanwhile, Rosie quickly mends the worst of the tears in his clothes - if only to avoid having to watch her friend stare down the couch at his broken staff, with an uncharacteristic half-smile that damn near breaks her heart.

"Alright, sir, that should do it for now. It's a nasty gash, for sure, but the salve should keep it from getting infected."

"Thank you, my dear." He gives an appreciative nod to the surgeon, and Rosie too, as his fellow overlord hands him back his clothes.

"Can't have you going around with a big hole in your chest, can we?" Rosie steps back and scrutinizes her own patch job as he slowly dresses himself again. "It ain't perfect... especially for a classy fellow like you. But I'm sorry to report that I saw my tailor at a Sunday brunch just last week. Inconvenient, but I gotta admit, he made a wonderful casserole."

For the briefest of moments, this aside manages to tweak Alastor's smile into something vaguely genuine. "I'm sure he did."

"One more thing, Mr. Alastor, sir," Trudy jumps in as the radio demon pulls on his coat. "So sorry, I almost forgot. The angel also threw you against a wall, correct?"

At the recollection, Alastor's smile stiffens into something more closely resembling a grimace. His antlers rise between his ears. "Does it matter?"

"You may be at risk for internal injuries." If Trudy is at all fazed by inviting the most powerful overlord in hell's annoyance, it doesn't show. "I really ought to check, just to be safe."

Alastor looks away. As loathe as he is to even acknowledge his own fragility, he truly isn't sure of the extent of his own injuries - given that he's not used to receiving them in the first place. And he'd be damned (well, damned twice) if Adam had ruptured something vital, spelling the radio demon's second death a few hours after the fact.

He grits his teeth. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Lovely. If you could just lie back, sir..." As he obliges, she kneels beside the couch. "I'm just going to feel for any swelling..." Her hands hover over him-

"Er, wait." Alastor abruptly sits up.

"It's alright, I won't touch your wound!" Trudy soothes. "I'll just be feeling down here..." She gestures to his midsection (which elicits a sharp flinch).

"No, I-" He hesitates. "I'm... not sure this is necessary."

"Oh, Alastor, stop worryin'!" Rosie reassures him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Trudy is quite picky about her meals. She'd never go for venison."

"That's... not what..."

Alastor pauses, and evidently decides against trying to explain what he meant. He reluctantly lies back against the cushions again.

"I'm going to place my hands under your shirt, sir. If you feel any pain, please alert me."

"Very well."

As Trudy lifts his shirt, he looks like he is going to say something more - but whatever it is dies on his tongue the moment her hands make contact with his stomach. He brings one knee up sharply.

"Tender there, sir?"

"No! No, your hands are cold." His words have gone uncharacteristically stiff.

Trudy methodically probes one side of his belly, then the other (which in turn causes his other knee to pop up). This time when Trudy asks if he's in pain, he merely shakes his head.

The surgeon furrows her brow, concentrating. Human-animal hybrids like Alastor already take a bit of poking around just to get a sense for each unique configuration of organs. It doesn't help that the man is bracing for every touch...

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt, sir?" she murmurs tentatively. "You're very tense."

"Yes." The word comes out like a hiss. She glances at the radio demon's face. He's wearing his typical showman's smile, but his eyes are fixed on the ceiling with a weird, wide, unwavering stare.

Finally the surgeon sits back. "Well, I don't feel anything concerning. But to be honest, sir, I can't feel much of anything." She turns apologetically to her employer. "His stomach is all clenched up..."

But Rosie is simply standing there pressing a huge grin into her glove. She's known Alastor for decades. She can read his expressions like a magazine.

"Alastor, darling," Rosie drawls casually. "Are you ticklish?"

From the radio demon's reaction, you'd think she'd asked if he was an Exorcist. He scrambles to sit up. "No! Why would-"

"You're ticklish. That's..." She catches herself just before the word precious.

"...What?!" There's an edge of defensiveness to his voice that Rosie very rarely hears from him.

"Why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not emb- That's not- what-" Oh, she's giving him that look. "I'm just- I wasn't-"

As he speaks, Alastor's voice suddenly goes thin. His gaze turns inward. "I'm stuttering. I don't stutter! I've never stuttered!" He clutches his coat closer around himself. "I am the RADIO DEMON, for heaven's sake, I don't sta-AHH! Haha-!"

Evidently a scribble to the ribs is a very effective way to interrupt a panicking demon. Rosie runs her fingers from his hip up his side to his arm and back a couple times for good measure.

The amount of startled laughter she is able to draw from just this surprise touch delights her - the poor man is so ridiculously sensitive that a five-second one-handed tickle leaves him fully breathless.

"Okay! Okay, okahay! Keheh- Rosie!"

"Sorry dear, couldn't resist." She holds her hands up, still beaming like a stadium light. "I'll stop torturing you."

Alastor clears his throat. "You're not torturing me, dearest." He straightens his bowtie, clearly attempting to salvage his dignity. "You know what I always say, laughter is a powerful sign of-"

He cuts off with a sharp inhale and defensive flinch as Rosie perches on the edge of the sofa beside Trudy. She grins.

"You're right. That's certainly your specialty, isn't it?"

Alastor forces a nervous chuckle. "Never fully dressed without a smile, you know."

"Well don't worry, darling. I understand." She pats his knee. "Just because you've got the scariest evil cackle in hell doesn't mean you appreciate having it tickled out of you."

Rosie had expected this assurance to put him at ease, but if anything, he seems more troubled.

"Why would I mind a little, ah..." Tickling. Tick-ling. He can't bring himself to articulate two syllables. Is this all he's left with without his staff? "...Er, a little bit of levity? Can't let things get too serious, can we?" With another quick cough, the radio demon finally manages to get his voice to fall back into his familiar breezy cadence. He turns to Trudy. "Now, are we... quite finished with that examination?"

"Nothing seems amiss, from what I can feel." Trudy takes a step back. "Which is not much, but I think I've already made you uncomfortable enough..."

"Nonsense! I'm perfectly at ease!" He lies back again and smooths his coat. "Please, finish your little checkup. I insist."

Trudy regards him curiously for a moment. "Right." Her hands hover over his belly again. "But if you want me to stop, sir, just say the word-"

"I assure you that w-won't be necessahary..."

Trudy watches him seize up before her fingers even make contact. This time she presses a little deeper into his belly, trying to feel around his defensiveness.

"You are punching holes in my couch," Rosie remarks dryly, watching the poor demon's claws bury themselves in the cushions.

"I kn... ohow, I'm just-" He squeezes his eyes shut as Trudy hits a particularly bad spot. And then another. And another... hell, his torso one big bad spot.

"What do you think, Trudy?"

The young doctor just shakes her head.

"Alastor. Darling. You have GOT to relax."

"I am!" Alastor's composure is dangling by the thinnest of threads.

"Maybe it would help," Trudy says, with infinite caution, "to just go ahead and laugh, sir."

A beat. And then Rosie bursts into laughter.

"Giving new meaning to the 'deer in the headlights' expression, my friend." She scoots closer. "I thought you just said you don't mind a little 'levity'..."

"I don't!"

"In that case. Carry on, Trudy - Auntie Rosie is gonna help our patient out a bit while you work."

Too late, Alastor realizes what his fellow overlord has in mind. "Wait, wait! Ros-"

A delicate set of nails find the region just under his ribs - and it's all downhill from there.

"Ah! Fuhuck!" Alastor chokes on a curse before he can catch himself. He twists sideways, collapses into muffled giggles, and briefly manages to pull himself together - just barely - with a few hyperventilated breaths. "Rosie, really! This isn't- please- ack! I can't-" There's that damn stutter again. He hadn't even stuttered when Adam slashed him.

And now, Great Alastor the Radio Demon, undone by some scribbles? And a medical exam?!

Meanwhile, Trudy can feel even less now than she could before, her patient's belly now quaking with silent, suppressed mirth. But she takes one look at Rosie's delighted expression... and continues probing anyway, curling a subtle little smirk of her own.

It seems Rosie has picked up on a slightly less tangible injury than anything Trudy can address. But fortunately, they've just stumbled upon a promising potential treatment.

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

Part 2 is already pretty much finished - my brain is just too mushy at this point to contend with Tumblr's shitty text interface any longer, and this feels like a good stopping point.

Lemme get a good night sleep and another dose of Prozac and I'll have the rest out shortly 😅

💜 - Cozy

[tulypes]

nsfw alphabet: dick grayson

please like, reblog or comment. ♡ open orders i'm super inspired to write, lol. minors don't read.

tw: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, insinuation of drug use (cannabis/marihuana), Dick being a goofy pervert, degradation, hc a little long

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dick is a caring boyfriend, that's undeniable. but post-sex is always a round of sleep, you both fall completely asleep and love it. aftercare actually comes after a brief nap; You wake up, you put on a blouse and Dick puts on some underwear, then you go to the fridge, eat something silly together and watch some comedy film until you fall asleep again.

Or they talk about routine, future desires, marriages, children and everything else.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's a fan of ass. He loves!! likes to squeeze, hit, bite.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Men are visual and Dick doesn't shy away from that. He likes to see you swallowing his cum (if you don't like it, he won't complain, Dick is very respectful), but he goes crazy when you suck him whole and shows that you're swallowing it like it's your favorite flavor of ice cream.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I'll give two, I don't know if you'll like the second one, but let's go.

1: you both have several folders with lots of videos and photos of you having sex (obviously you both agreed to the amateur recordings and they were just between the two of you as a kind of fun – sometimes he even threw them in your face) — look how beautiful you were in that video, look at your face begging me to eat you. Girl, what is this?

2: He likes to smoke…...... Dick knew that marijuana wasn't Bruce's or some superheroes' favorite thing, but he smoked it sometimes. before sex it made him sensitive, he was literally BEGGING for you. After sex, it was more about relaxing, staying calm. Dick loved to drink wine and smoke

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is very experienced, after he lost his virginity, he never stopped. He knows exactly what he's doing, but that doesn't stop you from teaching him something.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ok, I'll stop for a moment here. It depends on the day, it depends on what you're feeling at the moment. when you two are in a more romantic vibe: missionary. He loves to look into your eyes, tell you how much he loved you, while sinking his dick into you, my beauty. WOW, he also LOVES LOOKING at your face with pleasure and HAVING full access to your breasts.

NOW, MY LOVES, IF DICK GRAYSON IS STRESSED WITH YOU FOR BEING A DEPRAVED BRAT: doggy style. DOGGY STYLE!!!!!

He will push your face into the mattress, he will hold both of your arms behind you and he will hit your butt so hard that you will have bruises for days. Seriously, he loves your ass slapping against his pelvis, you looking at him over your shoulder… this man will cry with passion.

— I love you so much, you bastard!

he'll go even more crazy if you hold his ankles ;)

Dick loves sucking you, the son of a bitch is a pussy addict, so he loves it when you sit with your legs wide open for him, giving him full view of everything. This boy will suck you from top to bottom, side to side.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I feel like the boy Dick is a little silly, at least what's in my head is super playful…. He'll be really fucking you, then he'll remember something, like a fall that Wally took in front of everyone, or some stupid joke, then he'll laugh a lot.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he doesn't like to let it grow, but if you let it grow, he doesn't care

— I'm a feminist man, the way you give me that beautiful little thing between your legs, baby, I'm going to eat it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

you share a lot of intimacy. In addition to being lovers, you are friends. you two share everything, so there are no problems in that regard.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

those videos there? What do you think they are for? When you're far from each other, he jerks off and doesn't have the slightest shame in admitting it. He sends a photo, teases you, says he misses you, moans your name loudly like a prostitute.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

everyone knows he's an exhibitionist. Sex in public or forbidden places was her greatest joy. you have sex in the car, you have sex in the movies, you have sex during Bruce's galas, you have sex during missions, you even have sex in the Batcave (don't tell Batman). he likes air deprivation, wow. He loves squeezing your neck with all his might while you smile like an idiot at him.

HE LOVES WHEN YOU GIVE A SQUIRT, DRINKS IT LIKE WATER AND STILL SAYS IT FEELS YUMMY

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

batcave. lie, I'm joking. So, despite being an exhibitionist clown, Dick loves having sex at home. He loves the comfort that home brings because you don't have to worry about clothes or what you're going to do next. PLUS THERE IS MUSIC!!! Who doesn't love a sex playlist?

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think that if he knows that you want it, that the desire is mutual, it is already a motivation. Seriously, Dick is very respectful, so if you show any hint that you're not in the mood, say no at that moment, he won't try anything.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

menage. divide you. watching you have sex with someone else. and synonyms. Seriously, he doesn't like it! THE BIGGEST SUPPORTER OF MONOGAMY OF THE CENTURY. He likes being with you and that in addition to sex, so there's no way he can have a threesome.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he loves them both. loves to suck you, as I said. but he also loves receiving, Dick always praises his skills with his mouth. he loves sideways 69, because the pleasure is divided for both

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day and the moment, but it is generally faster and more difficult. you both liked this!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes it a lot, but he prefers complete sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dick is willing to do anything except menage. one time, you even joked with him about being a snack between him and his brothers…. Dick got upset, girl.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The guy is a superhero and lived in a circus, he is resistance personified, but if he is too tired or injured, due to his tough routine as a nightwing, he won't get very far, okay?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

when he found out that you had vibrators stored in the back of a drawer, it was like WOW, A DEVILIAN SMILE CAME ON THAT FACE. He loves using them, touching them at full speed to your breasts or clitoris.

— you have a dick amusement park, mini Dick will be jealous

Do you know what he loves? vibrators with remote control. This son of a bitch will make a point of sticking them in you and taking you to dinner. with every step you take, it will change your speed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he really likes it! you two were a great match in every aspect, so teasing is always welcome. you're doing something, he comes up from behind, kisses your neck, says he misses you, IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU'RE TOGETHER ALL DAY, ALL WEEK. When you're on some not-so-important mission, he'll keep whispering how hot you look in the hero costume, he'll rub your ass whenever he gets the chance.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he is so noisy…

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Did you read the letter A of the alphabet? So, let's go. He always wakes up first, so he loves watching you sleep, no matter how messy your hair is or if there's drool on your cheek, he thinks you're beautiful. He will caress your waist, he will caress your scars, your stretch marks. It's not very sexual, but I think it's a good hc

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's big and thick, not in an absurd and lying way, but he's got a REALLY nice package. It's obvious that you preferred mini (or not so mini) Dick over vibrators.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

the bastard is always excited, he always makes you laugh. but in the morning…

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it turns off, ok? Don't expect much from this guy, especially after a round of weed and sex.

[sageandravens]

Patience - Something

Summary: Bucky and Sunshine’s first meeting

Featuring: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark

Word count: 1997

Warnings: Bucky being self deprecating. Tony being smug ass.

This was it. This is where all the hard work you’ve completed led you. All the sacrifices you’ve made to reach your goal has finally brought you to were you wanted to be in your career. Your background in Special Forces Night Stalkers Unit and your time in the CIA had caught the eye of Nick Fury, after all the constant training and tests and interviews, you found yourself staring at the grand building that was the Avengers compound. Pride swelling within your chest, this one achievement outshining all the others you have accomplished in the past.

To say that you were eager was an understatement. Your body vibrated with unrestrained excitement about meeting the people responsible for saving the world. People you had admired for their accomplishments. People you get to call your coworkers and maybe one day, your friends.

You carried on, practically skipping your way to the entrance of the building. Reaching the entrance, you smoothed your hands down the yellow knee length pencil skirt and adjusted your white blouse of the imaginary wrinkles that the nerves in your mind believed were there. With one last tug of your skirt, you plastered on a smile and walked to reception.

The receptionist had you sit on a nearby bench as she called to inform of your arrival. You smiled and greeted at whoever glanced your way and chatted with the receptionist in between her calls, your politeness helping you to pass the time.

“So, you’re the new recruit?” An amused voice snapped you out of your conversation with the receptionist. Looking to your left your eyes widened as they landed on Tony Stark himself.

“Mr. Stark! You’re leading my orientation?” You mentally slapped yourself as you straightened your posture. “I mean, yes, yes I’m the new recruit.” You offered your hand to the billionaire, internally holding back your excitement.

Ironman! Oh my god, oh my GOD.

“When I went over your file, I didn’t expect someone who was the personification of puppies and rainbows.” Stark stated. You quirked a brow at him.

“I was observing you from our security system on my way here.” He shrugged like it was no big deal for him.

“Ok, Bubbles. Let’s get this show on the road.” You grinned back at him, following his lead as he explained the workings of the compound and the work you will be doing within its walls. The whole time absorbing all the information that he spewed, asking questions, and matching him snark for snark.

Tony gave you a very grandiose tour of the facility, which you didn’t expect anything less considering his reputation. He showed you the gym, the dining facilities, the offices and the briefing rooms in the compound. Along the way, he had introduced you to some of the Avengers that you will be working closely with.

You hit it off immediately with Steve, who had congratulated you on joining the team and looked forward to working on missions with you in the future. You beamed at his praise and thanked him for being so welcoming.

Natasha took a little longer to warm up to you. Upon introductions she had stared you down while giving you a once over, making you feel as if she was trying to seek out anything that made you suspicious. She stepped back giving a nod to Tony.

“She’s good, welcome to the team.” You blinked at the abruptness of her departure, watching her as she walked down the hallway.

“You’ll get used to that, Bubbles.”

You and Tony continued on your tour, listening as Tony explained your moving in process. He lead you down another hallway with less foot traffic, you looked around at the various decorative art pieces along the walls, glittering light caught your eye, focusing on its source you saw it reflecting off a tall, muscular man ahead of you.

Reflecting off his metal arm. His very recognizable metal arm.

“Is that who I think it is?” You ask, catching Tony’s attention. He looked in your line sight and raised a brow.

“The arm doesn’t give it away?” You rolled your eyes at Stark. “I’ll introduce you, just don’t expect a warm welcome. He’s still a little frosty.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The metallic clang of the weights echoed throughout the gym. Sounds of grunts and bodies hitting the floor mats as agents trained and worked out all around the gym. It was almost mid morning by the time Bucky finally decided to put the weights down, having been in the compounds gym since five in the morning. Another night where a nightmare has plagued his already battered mind, usually, a couple of hours in the gym calmed him down but this particular nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake off.

The screams of the victims. His victims, still echoed in his mind, their horrified faces and their blood that he spilled was a slide show on repeat. The frown on his face deepened, matching the aggravated look on his face.

Frustated, he placed the weights back on the rack with a grunt. Pushing back the lose strands of his hair that escaped from his low bun away from his face he looked around, taking in all the agents around him. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and his anxiety wasn’t letting up, he gathered his items and trudged back to his room within the compound. Hoping a hot shower would ease his frazzled mind.

Bucky stomped through the halls, ignoring the way the agents and other employees quickly moved out of his way with worried looks. He knew they feared him, fearing that he would snap back into his Winter Soldier persona. Worried that whatever deprogramming they did in Wakanda didn’t actually work.

They should fear me. They’d be dumb if they didn’t. His face turned darker at the thought. He continued down the hall towards the elevator reserved for the Avengers that lead to the residential floor. The promise of a long, hot shower to process his racing thoughts and wash away the sweat from his extended workout this morning within a short distance. The hope of finally being away from lingering fearful stares and hushed whispers only an elevator ride away. He placed his hand upon the scanner built into the wall, waiting patiently for elevator to make its descent.

“Hey, Manchurian Canidate!” Bucky groaned at the sound of the irksome nickname. He silently prayed that the elevator doors would open at that second to make his escape. The frown on his face getting even deeper as he realized that his need to be alone was disappearing the closer as they footsteps approached him. Turning around, Bucky accepted his fate, hoping that his post workout odor makes this impending conversation short. Bucky was not in a mood for Starks antics today, or any day at all, really.

“Whoa, you are ripe! You know there are showers in the gym right?” Bucky rolled his eyes and grunted a response. The ding of the elevator announced the arrival of his belated escape plan, turning back around when Bucky entered the elevator and much to his annoyance Tony followed. The movement of someone clad in bright yellow caught his attention, tilting his head up, his eyes focused on the young woman standing next to Stark.

“Oh, by the way.” Tony passively gestures towards you. “This is Y/N. Our new recruit, former sergeant first class. She outranks you.” He added smugly.

Bucky refused to take the bait, giving Tony another short grunt, not even bothering to look at him. You looked at Bucky, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the sweat clinging to his brow, evidence of his strenuous workout. But, you noticed something behind his blue eyes that spoke of something darker, an emotion that seems to plague him.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you!” Your peppy voice rang in his ears. The joyfulness of your tone making him wince. He glanced back at you, your (y/e/c) eyes bright matching the smile that graced your lips, your hand reaching past Stark waiting for him to grasp it. Bucky just stared at it.

“Oh, well, I look forward to working with you and the others.” You say, the pep in your voice never faltered. You brought your hand back to your side, you had hoped that being your usually bright self, you would come off as a potential friend to Bucky and break the grumpy exterior Tony warned you about. No luck, not letting Bucky’s rebuff of your greeting bother you. Bucky’s eyes landed on your face once more giving you a confused look.

“I’m excited to learn how you and the rest of the team work together quickly. I know my skills will be of great use to you all. Maybe we’ll be paired up for a mission some time?” His lack of words made you want to fill the silence between you. You were alright with that, you understood that some people weren’t the talking type. Bucky’s stare made you continue on with your rambling.

“Since you know, we both have military experience. I think we would pair well with each other.” You smiled brightly once again.

Bucky continued to stare at you. Completely, blindsided that you continued to look him in the eye and talk to him without fear and worry. Did you not know who he was? Are you confusing him with someone else? Bucky shifted his gym bag on his shoulder, his grip on the strap making the mechanics of his metal arm begin to whir.

Well, if she doesn’t know who I am, she does now. Bucky frowned again.

Stark looked on between you and the living statue that was Bucky, getting some amusement from the completely polar opposite personalities in front of him. He watched on as you continued on with the one sided conversation. Smirking to himself as he watched Bucky become increasingly uncomfortable.

Ding!

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the elevator doors opened. He readjusted his bag, and quickly left, leaving you and Tony in the dust without so much as a goodbye. You watched as he walked away, the tension still present in his shoulders making you frown. He walked with a heaviness, a weight of bottled up emotions and dark thoughts. You recognized that stance, you’ve seen it with some of the soldiers that were under your command after grueling missions.

“Told ya he was still frosty.” Tony placed his hand upon your back guiding you out of the elevator to finish the tour of the compound.

“He’ll warm up to me, I’m sure.” You smiled at Tony with confidence.

“Hope you’re up for a challenge,”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that day Bucky exited his room. Refreshed and gym odor free from his long hot shower. It eased his mind somewhat, pushing back his memories enough to not be distracting. He walked to the communal kitchen of the residential floor, his stomach begging for some leftovers from the night before. Popping in a plate of some leftover fettuccine into the microwave, he leaned against the counter waiting for the time to go off.

Steve sat at the kitchen island across from him, with a cup of coffee in his hand looking at the file in front of him. He glanced over at the file that had his best friend so intrigued. He noticed that it was your file.

“Have you met the new recruit yet?” Steve asked him.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, popping the P. Steve continued to flip through your file, feeling impressed more and more with all of your achievements.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Steve started with with awe.

Bucky thought of your bright smile, your relaxed and bright presence. He thought of you carrying on introducing yourself, never stopping even if he was not responding. But what he thought of the most was how you didn’t have fear in your eyes.

“Yeah, she’s something.”

[kaitokitty19]

Ok, Future AU, Married Hakukai Headcanon that Hakuba gets a bad reputation at work because his colleagues see him leaving with different young men/women every other day and none of them were his husband. Everyone gossips about it but no one dare say anything because, well, he's the Superintendent General's son and the golden boy (along with Shinichi) of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police force.

When he eats lunch at the Precinct cafeteria, he could hear whispers as people walk pass:

"He's so handsome and incredibly smart, but I heard he's the cheating type."

"Eh, really? I guess you can't have it all. He has the look, the brain, the money, too bad he turned out to be a complete scoundrel."

"Right? His poor husband! I saw him leaving the station the other day with a gorgeous redhead. The day before that was a leggy blonde..."

And meanwhiles, at their table, Shinichi turns to Hakuba and is like:

"Aren't you gonna at least try to dispel the rumors?"

Hakuba just shrugs:

"What would I tell them? That my husband has a near inhumane ability to shape shift? That I knowingly married KID the Phantom Thief?"

Shinichi narrows his eyes at his colleague's stupid fond smile for a brief moment before concluding, annoyed:

"You're enjoying the chaos, aren't you? Jesus, you two are exactly alike!"

Lunch goes on like normal after that. Shinichi is very tired of this pair.

[pink-tea]

your blushing bride

☆ pairing: kai kamal huening x afab reader

☆ nsfw, 18+

☆ sub! hueningkai, dom! reader, childhood best friends, pervert reader, more of a pervert hueningkai, kind of dark?, possessive reader, obsessive hueningkai, virgin kink, corruption kink, breeding kink, feminization (running theme of hueningkai being your wife), the whole "staying pure till marriage" thing but on hueningkai's side, very very brief mention of hyuka being ready to trap you, blatant disrespect of privacy but it's kai so it's ok

☆ brain dump on virgin! hueningkai who's been concerningly obsessed with the idea of saving his virginity for you so that he's completely yours when the two of you get married, but you're too blinded by the image of your cute innocent childhood best friend to even notice

ღ hueningkai's who's been your childhood best friend since kindergarten

ღ always the sweet one, clinging to the back of your shirt while the two of you run around the playground

ღ teachers would always coo, telling him that he has to grow strong so that he can take care of you in the future when the two of you are married

ღ you would always wrinkle your nose in disgust while hueningkai would blush bright red

ღ "eugh! no! hueningkai's going to be my wife when we get married and I'm gonna be big and strong and make sure he's happy!"

ღ that always made him smile; letting you take care of him just sounded right

ღ he's been by your side leading all the way up to now, hopelessly devoted to you and your promise to marry him

ღ he just wants to be your blushing bride :(

ღ but you grew out of your promise somewhere along the transition from middle school to high school

ღ suddenly you were more focused on growing up and finding other people besides your puppy boy best friend

ღ it's not like you didn't love him—that was completely wrong—you were still rightfully obsessed

ღ but you were much more perverted than he was

ღ learning about dom/sub porn, feeling yourself grow wet in your panties at the sight of a poor sub begging to cum

ღ you wanted to learn more about your sexuality, wanted to experience it more ever since one of your exes moaned into your mouth when you pinned him flush against your bedroom wall

ღ hueningkai...just didn't fit into your sexual fantasy

ღ sweet virgin hueningkai that would still blush and stutter when you played with his hair and told him he looked pretty with a flower tucked behind his ear

ღ your darling hueningkai who never got rid of a single plushie you bought for him, even when he started to grow out of them he'd never admit to using them to masturbate to the thought of you

ღ but it's not till a few girls behind you in the lunch line start talking about him that makes you wake up and smell the roses

ღ it takes them talking about how cute virgins are, how hot it is to take their virginity and stake their claim on them, even going as far as using hueningkai as their example

ღ you never thought of having sex with your childhood best friend before, he was just too sweet to rough him up the way you'd like to

ღ but the thought of other girls taking advantage of your sweet hueningkai didn't feel right either

ღ and then you couldn't do anything but think of how cute he was

ღ standing so tall now, an intimidating 6'0 but he still had the same sparkly eyes he did when he was barely an inch shorter than you.

ღ he still comes over on the weekends to watch a movie, still walks with you in the halls and talks to you about how his grades are utterly fucked, all while you daydream of just fucking ruining him

ღ you're almost ashamed, disgusted at the realization that you're looking at your best friend and imagining his lips wrapped around your clit, begging you to suffocate him more in between your thighs

ღ but it's the belief that you're such a pervert compared to hueningkai that lets him catch you off guard

ღ your beautiful inexperienced hueningkai also grew up, but it seems that you've forgotten this

ღ spacing out in class because he keeps thinking about how you called him pretty, touching his face and desperately trying to remember the skin and makeup routine he did this morning

ღ burying his face into the penguin plushie you won for him your freshman year as he desperately ruts against the mattress of his bed, vibrator hitting his prostate as he tries to imagine that it's you controlling the speed of the vibrations

ღ feeling you braid his hair and wishing so badly that you'd get bold enough to yank his head back by the roots and stuff your fingers down his throat, telling him to suck on them nice and good so that he'll be good enough to gag on your strap

ღ it's only natural that he catches on to your shift in behavior one day

ღ you're sitting on the couch while he's on the floor, head leaning back to let your fingers play with his hair

ღ he's trying to explain to you the way that the "bye, bye butterfree" epiosde made him sob as a kid when he catches the way your focus zeroes in on his lips

ღ his breath catches in his throat at the realization, and when you snap out of your daze you're staring back into hueningkai's wide eyed stare

ღ "you want to kiss me," he breathes out, almost as if in disbelief

ღ your hands immediately jolt out of his brown hair, excuses and stuttered denial about to leap off your tongue

ღ but hueningkai is quicker, whining and snatching your hands back to press them against his chest

ღ leaning up into your personal space, causing you to lean back as your best friend practically crawls into your lap

ღ "please please please, please you don't know how long i've waited," he whimpers

ღ "just want to belong to you, please just take me, ruin me," he begs, sliding your hands up so that they're placed in the conjecture between his neck and shoulders

ღ you almost want to cry with how turned on you are at the sight

ღ pretty little virgin hyuka who's desperately rolling his hips against yours as your hands slide up and cup his face, he's so drunk on the fact that you finally want him after all this time

ღ such a good reward for being patient, he thinks

ღ finally gets to get his virginity taken by you, finally gets to say that he stayed pure until marriage just for you because he's never letting you go

ღ doesn't even need to trap you because you're so obsessed with him, going crazy when you finally end up fucking him on the bed the two of you used to laugh and talk on for hours

ღ broken sobs and cries of "yes yes yes, fuck! oh fuck it's so good—finally yours, feel so fucking full, please—please just make me yours!"

ღ he's so loud and so sensitive, staining your sheets with tears and cum as he accidentally overstimulates himself by asking for more and more every time you whisper about fucking him full

ღ wants to be your property, he's been saving himself for years just for this :(

ღ fucking himself with his dildos and vibrators so that he knows how to arch his back for you, watching every time you opened your laptop so that he knew your password, going through your history to see the things you liked, the porn you liked, everything about you

ღ your sweet little not-so-virgin-anymore hueningkai who's the biggest pervert between the both of you, but insists that he's just your pretty little bride <3

[babybluebex]

no because let's talk about the breeding kink 🤨

sigh, i SHOULD be doing anything other than this... getting ready to move tomorrow... getting ready to start my job tomorrow... my daily cardio... but whatever let's do it

so BIG warning below the cut for explicit smut, if you aren't into that, maybe sit this one out :) cw for obviously breeding kink, a brief diatribe ab safe sex practices, edging/overstim, use of "mommy/daddy" but not sexually (you'll see), a surprise munch!dom shows up at the end

but yeah. he has a thing about breeding you. he doesn't think he does, bc like?? doesn't everyone like that?? he has experience before you, sure, but he's not exactly up to date on what fetishes are normal and what fetishes appear in porn a lot (he is, after all, a 21 year old guy, we can't give him too much credit)

but you don't find out about this kink of his for a little while, you guys have slept together a handful of times but your relationship is starting to get a lot more serious than before, and even though it seems a little quick, it feels right to already be thinking about getting married to him

but you're talking about everything one night, just trying to have healthy communication with a glass of wine yknow, and you ask him like "how do you feel about kids?" and he seems a little nervy?? and he's like "idk... i never really thought about a future of mine that didn't have kids in it" "but do you want them?" "of course. it's just, like, i want them, but i've also never thought about not having them. it's just always something i've wanted" and you're like cool, cool... "i think i wanna have kids with you" and he gets a little pink in the face "aw... thanks... that's sweet"

and you move on from that part of the conversation, and you think it's been forgotten, until a few days later

your man has been fuckin stressed out, luckily he's filming in jersey so he gets to stay relatively close to you, and you manage to rent a little airbnb in the town he's filming in so that he can come home to you, but he's about to tear his hair out, he's trying to film this but then also learn lines for his next project, and he's still slinging out audition tapes for every door his agent can manage to get his foot in, and you hate to see him like this, so he gets home from set one night to the smell of his favorite dinner cooking, and he sets down his stuff and is like "baby?"

comes into the kitchen and yes you're cooking, but you've got your hair done up all pretty with those sparkly pins you wore to the baftas, and you're wearing that lipstick that drives him crazy, and... are you?? you can't be?? wearing one of his shirts and his favorite panties of yours that show off all your assets?? his favorite outfit on you!! and all he can manage is a dry-mouthed lil "wuh?"

and you smile at him "just in time, sweetheart, that oven's about to go off, and then we'll be ready to eat" and you go to him and kiss him gently, and he's still like ‼️ and you go "everything ok? you're quiet"

"what is this...?" and he grabs your hips and does the thing that vision did to wanda in ep1 of wandavision "what are you wearing??"

"well you've been so stressed out..." you start "i wanted to do something nice for you"

"oh baby this is very nice" he says and he can't get his eyes off of you "i might have to marry you if you keep this up"

"is that a promise?"

anyway yeah, he's worked up now and marriage is on his mind (therefore kids are too) and you have dinner, but he eventually gets you in his lap and is rubbing your thighs and kissing your neck and you're trying to talk to him like "should we put on a movie? or i can beam my spotify to the TV and we can listen to some music?" but he's got tunnel vision on your soft skin

so you give it up and start to get into it, kissing him back and tugging off his shirt, and he does the same to you so that you're skin to skin, and like of course you know what a loverboy dom can be, but this is something completely different, this is devotion and admiration and complete sickening love, and you just can't help yourself from whispering "want you to put a baby in me, dommy" and he doesn't skip a beat, almost like he was hoping you'd say something like that "yeah? you wanna have my baby? aren't you on the pill?" "yeah, but i can—" and you pause to bite him bottom lip gently as his hands slink down to your panties "i can get off it" "fuck, baby" he whispers, tilting his head to press a kiss under your ear "don't tease me like that" "not teasing you" you tell him

and he checks with you a couple of times as he gets you in bed and gets you naked, kissing down your body and dragging his tongue around your soft flesh, really making sure you're truly down for all of this, but even through his gentle care, you can see the brick in his jeans and like fuuuuck he wants this so badly too

finally getting him out of his clothes and closing your legs around his waist, and he kisses you deeply as he starts to lean off to the side to the nightstand, and he sorta chuckles "guess we, umm... don't need that... right?"

and you smile and shake your head, and dom gives you a soft melty look "if you change your mind, please let me know" he says gently, taking up his rock-hard dick into his hand and stroking himself a few times "i don't wanna, like, knock you up and it turns out you wanted me to put on a condom halfway thru, like just let me know—" "dominic, i know you're trying to be nice" you start "and i really appreciate that and love you for it, but i already told you: i'm all in. i want this"

and like you have never in your life had unprotected sex before, like the pill was really more for hormone management than actual birth control, and with past partners you've always been cautious and made them wear condoms "just in case" (which like irl is a good practice, it's never a bad idea to be cautious ab sex bc like sti's and various things can be spread without a condom, so like whatever, off my apple box, basically wrap it before you tap it pls) but with dom, you don't have any reason to worry bc you know he's clean and like the desired outcome would only happen without a condom

but maybe it's that safety and security that makes his raw cock inside you feel so much better than usual, and you whimper as he laughs a little "s'okay, baby" he tells you "i've got you, daddy's got you" and you smile and laugh, and you're like "is this me discovering you have a daddy kink?" "no" he scoffs "but it is daddy taking care of mommy. right?"

and he's got those big eyes at you, gnawing on his bottom lip, and you gently use your thumb to pull his lips from between his teeth and you kiss him, and he gets down to business

he's being a little more feral than typical, just holding onto you harder and fucking into you with a quick pace, and he can't keep his mouth off of you, he's either kissing your lips or kissing your neck, and towards the end he presses his lips to your neck and just sorta pathetically moans as he nears his finish

and every sensation inside you is making fireworks pop, all you can do is moan and whimper and claw down his back as hot pleasure spreads throughout your whole body, and your breath catches in your throat when he reaches down and starts playing with your clit, your hips bucking at the sudden onslaught and near overstimulation, but he's being VERY attentive and he notices your breathing change and he goes "you ok?"

you nod quickly, biting your lip harshly "m'close!" you squeak, and he smiles, reaching out above your head and grabbing the headboard to keep himself up, and you really understand what it means to be animalistic, bc he raises his arm and you smell the sweat and pheromones seeping out of his pores and you go a lil crazy for a moment "dom! dom, baby, please, please..." "oh yeah?" he asks and he smiles when you sob out "is it good, baby?" "yes!" you hiccup and you reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist and just fuckin hang on for dear life and then he suddenly stiffens and freezes and you gasp, worried something's wrong, but his smile is too coy, his eyes glittering too much "tell me how much you want it" he tells you, his fingers hovering so close to your throbbing clit that you swear you can still feel them and you can only manage to mumble a confused "wha...?" "tell me" he says "how much. you want it. tell me how badly you want me to cum inside you and get you pregnant" "you're fucking evil" you gasp and shift your hips to try to get contact with his hand, but he shifts further away, denying it to you "i never claimed to be anything else" he laughs "you want me to knock you up so badly, you gotta tell me" "dommy" you whine "please! you're close too, i can feel you throbbing" and like yeah he's so close to his finish that you don't know how he hasn't busted inside you in the last 30 seconds "well then you better hurry up and talk to me" dom says and you swallow with a dry throat and squeeze his wrist, and you watch his bicep flex and your mouth waters "want it bad, baby" you tell him "want you to fill me up, want it to leak outta me when we're done" "mhm" dom nods, and he leans down and gently kisses your lips "you're gonna get all pregnant, all big with my fuckin baby... walking around like that with my ring on your hand, and everyone'll know what a slut you are, what you let me do to you... s'that it, baby? you wanna be my little slut?" you nod quickly, trying to chase him back into a kiss, but his hand moves from the headboard down to grab your neck and force you back down, and he's not even remotely squeezing or doing anything, he's not even putting force into the push, his hand is just There, and you gasp "yeah!" you whimper, and you throb, flexing around him, and he hisses through his teeth "w-wanna be yours, baby, wanna be only yours"

and with his hand on your throat, he starts fucking into you again, his smooth stomach flexing with each thrust, his tattoo shifting with his skin, and he presses his forehead against yours and kisses you, and he mumbles "gonna..." and you just nod and curl your fingers in his messy hair (that's getting increasingly frizzy and crazy with the sweat and heat), and his eyebrows knit together as his reddened mouth opens against yours, and he chokes out a groan, and then you feel him spilling inside you as his thrusts slow down, filling you and making the whole thing like 1000 times louder with the wet sound of him still fucking you through it

and he keeps going even when he's panting and wincing, and you're like "baby, stop, it's ok" and he cuts you off "gotta make sure it takes..." and goes for a little longer before he slowly pulls out and sighs as he watches his cum seep out of your poor little cunt, and he chuckles lightly "cool"

and you smile and start to reach out to hug him, but he sours pretty quickly "did you cum?" "umm... no" you tell him and he rolls his eyes "fuck, momma, you didn't think to tell me that before i came?" and you laugh but try to hide just how much you love him calling you that "just didn't think about it" and he shakes his head and licks his lips "nah, that's not gonna fuckin work" he says, and he shoves his sweaty curls off of his forehead as he slinks down your body, laying open-mouth kisses on your skin as he goes, and he finally reaches his destination, looking up at you thru his pretty eyelashes before he dives in

and yay munch dom makes an appearance!! bc he's having the time of his life down there, holding your hips in his hands and smoothing his thumbs across your skin, and you're jostling around with every kitten lick he gives you, and he's getting messy and loud, and you just tug on his hair and squeak "dom!" and then the wave of warmth and energy washes over you, and you're just laying there, twitching and sobbing as he continues to eat you through it, and you hear him whisper "good, good, just like that, momma, so good for me"

once you settle down and dom wipes your tears off your face, he gets up and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and they hang all low on his hips as he bustles around, reaching into the bathroom and starting up the shower, find your panties that he had tossed across the room and now hung from the plant in the corner

and he notices u all quiet on the bed and he's like "you ok, sweetheart?"

and you know it's cheesy but you tell him "yeah. we're fine"

"you think it worked?" and he sits next to you and rubs your thigh soothingly

and you nod, and he smiles and kisses you "well, i can't wait to meet them"

[aquaquadrant]

Was rereading the first chapter, and: "Predictable, repeatable patterns he’s unconsciously memorized- even now, he’s absentmindedly counting down the seconds until the next potion is dispensed."

Do you think, even after ten years, Tango can still time exactly two minutes in his head? Do you think sometimes he finds himself tapping his fingers absently, and realizes there's exactly a second between each tap, stopwatch-perfect, like his hands are still expecting to feel the wither-cold pain of the roses? Do you think someone notices, and they jokingly call him a human metronome, and he has to laugh and pretend it's not because of the months he spent in constant agony?

"After that, his reflection showed that the tips of his ears had darkened- along with his feet and fingertips- and his wither-black tears left permanent stains under his eyes, persisting even after respawn."

Do you think his friends think the black marks are a blaze hybrid thing, but then they meet another blaze hybrid (maybe in MCC) and start to wonder? Do you think they ask? Do you think he makes an excuse about individual variation, or evades the question, or mumbles vaguely about the wither effect and changes the subject?

"He’s spent so much time with the wither effect- grown accustomed to it, even- that he can’t tell right away when it’s starting to overcome him."

Do you think that later, once he's out, he's fighting wither skeletons or even a wither (secret life?) and he nearly dies from the wither effect, because he didn't notice until it was almost too late? Do you think someone, a hermit or a teammate or even a soulmate, scolds him for being reckless with his health, but in his head he's back in Hels again, withering and healing and withering and healing and withering and healing for eternity?

"The chains- well, they seemed to have snapped when he respawned away from them, leaving just a few links attached to his shackles."

Clothes respawn with players. Do you think that's why the cuffs came with him, even though they were attached to the wall? Do you think that after the "training" mentioned in the comic, he considers them a part of him, to the point where his own code does, too?

"Tango inhales deeply; he hadn’t realized he missed the smell of fire so much."

Do you think that even now, he associates fire with freedom and relief and finally, no more pain? Do you think that after flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks, he sits by a fire and reminds himself that it's not real, it's been years, he's free? Do you think someone finds him, and sits with him, and he realizes that free doesn't have to mean alone?

And in the most recent drabble: "what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?"

Do you think that when he's in the nether, when he sees a fortress, he thinks of the wither skeletons? Do you think that just for a moment, he almost considers withering himself on purpose, another illusory layer of control, to make sure he stays good?

ohhhkay, ok i’m normal about this, i promise. HM. YEAH. suffice to say, this is an amazing ask, but to avoid making it too long or giving too much away i’ll provide very brief answers (to each respective question) below.

yes, yes, and yes. a lot of things from his time at hels tek have stuck with him even after all these years.

yes, yes, and the first one (“that’s just my own unique personal flair!”). luckily this came up at a time when he’d gotten better at lying.

yes and yes, for the first few times he encountered wither skeletons and/or the wither after escaping to hermitcraft. impulse was very concerned.

yes and yes. surely this won’t be relevant in the future…

yes, yes, and sorta- he’s still working on that.

yes, the presence of wither skeletons is one of the main reasons he dislikes the nether (aside from it reminding him of hels). and actually no; before now, the cuffs have been enough for him and he hates the thought of being withered again.

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 21 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Ok so I wanted to do kinda like a Scream like thing but didn't realize until I started writing this out that I'm limited by the technology of the 80s lol But I made it work with what I had lol I hope you enjoy.

There is a 2 year time jump from the last chapter.

Warnings: Daddy Steve/ Sir Eddie & Sub Fem Plus Size Reader; SMUT, of the rougher variety, they are roleplaying and she asks them to be this way and scare her, spitting, choking, slapping, spanking, threatening, brief knife play (they tear off her dress), public play (in the school after hours), handcuffs, FLUFF near the beginning and very end (aftercare is given of course <3 ), ANGST, this is a role-play and everyone has given consent especially the reader, I WOULD NEVER WRITE A VERSION OF THESE TWO THAT WOULDNT STOP IF SHE SAID THE SAFE WORD!, they do call her and threaten her over the phone, she's chased down a hallway, lots of intimidation.

Word Count: 4198

Two years had passed since the incident with Eddie’s mom and he seemed to be doing so much better. He had really been focusing in on his music and Corroded Coffin spent every other night practicing and doing whatever they could to save money for some studio time. 

Steve still worked at Family Video with Robin but he had been looking into other alternatives like opening his own business. His friend and her current girlfriend had suggested the three of them start a non-profit to help kids who were kicked out of their homes or on the run due to unfortunate circumstances. You three understand that better than most and that was one of her greatest fears when it came to telling her family about her sexuality. 

You were on your senior year at college and ready to graduate. Taking Steve’s advice (and Eddie’s adamant approval of the idea), you majored in teaching with a minor in English hoping to teach high school kids in the future. Your courses required an internship and one teacher at Hawkins High was more than accommodating. 

“Y/N! Always good to see you. How are the other troublemakers?”

“They’re good, Mr. C. I do have a favor to ask if that’s alright.”, you giggle.

As soon as Eddie found out, he was so overjoyed like a kid in a candy store. 

“Mr. C! How’s my favorite teacher?!”

“Jesus Christ. Hello, Mr. Munson. How can we help you today?”, he sighed.

He always acted annoyed but you knew he cared about the metalhead like he did all his other students. 

“Oh, I’m just here to have lunch with the love of my life. Sweetheart, get out so you don’t get too jealous.”

You laugh at his antics as the teacher rolls his eyes. 

“It’s been 5 years.”, you announce as Steve steps into the living area, drying his hair. 

“Uh, I’ve been in the shower for like 15minutes but okay.”

“No, you goof. It’s been 5 years since we got together. Well, I mean, since you cornered me in a classroom.”, you giggle.

“And fucked you till your eyes rolled. You’re welcome.”, Eddie sasses from his spot by the window. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted us to know that? Did you want to do something, honey?”, the other man asks as he leans against the counter. “We didn’t have something planned already because I thought we decided our official anniversary was when we officially got together a year after.”

“I know, Daddy. I just…it’s 5 years. I feel we should do something to commemorate it right?”

The metalhead tosses out his cigarette and closes the window before coming over to sit beside you on the couch. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Biting your bottom lip, you head for the case of movies and grab a couple before handing them to Eddie. 

“These are all scary movies. Well except this one about the girl stalking the guy.”

“Yeeeeah. I, um, I was thinking we could try that…like role play.” Both men exchange a look you can’t read and you immediately feel yourself get self-conscious. “I was just thinking you know? Those first few times when we were together like that first night or even the night you two snuck into my room the end of junior year. That was so hot. Not to say, what we do now isn’t hot. Just that—”

A palm comes up from behind you to cover your mouth and you lean back into Steve’s warm chest. 

“You’re over thinking again.”, he grins. “I mean, we can try it. Do you want us to go that far?”, he asks pointing towards the movies in his friend’s hand. “How far is too far?”

“Don’t hurt, hurt me. No like punching or cutting my skin or anything. When I think about it, you guys doing this to me, more than anything…I want you to scare me.”

Eddie’s head ticks to the side at your statement. “Why? No. Why?”, he repeats when you shrug.

“It’s a different level of control, I guess. That first night, I wasn’t scared of you. I was scared of how you made me feel but I’ve never been afraid of you.” You smile when Steve softly kisses your cheek.

“If we do this, I think we should set some ground rules now. We already have one which is no punching or cutting. Of course, we would never do that, sweetheart.” The long-haired boy flashes you a comforting grin before he continues. “If we’re dropping into this headspace, Y/N, that means we probably won’t be asking you for a color but that doesn’t mean you can’t say them or the safe word. Promise us if at any point you feel uncomfortable you’ll use it.”

“I promise, Sir. 100%.”

“What about you, Stevie? Anything you can think of?”

“Not that I can think of.”

Eddie nods in agreement. 

“Alright, baby. Your wish is our command.”

###############

For the next week, you let your imagination run wild with what they could be planning. Everything ran like normal and nothing they did stood out to you to trigger the notion for you that the game was about to begin. You gave them free reign to choose the time and date but the anticipation was killing you. 

That following Friday, you had called to tell them you would be staying late at the school to work on some stuff for Mr. C who had to leave earlier that day to take care of his sick wife. Wearing your Walkman and listening to the mix tape Eddie had made you for your birthday awhile back, you hummed as you graded papers. 

The phone on the desk ringing abruptly startles you as you grab your chest and yank off your headphones. Thinking it may be one of the boys, you answer without hesitation. 

“Hello? Mr. Castillo’s classroom.”

“Hello there. Well, don’t you sound sweet. Is he available?”, a deep voice you didn’t recognize asked. 

“I’m sorry. He’s out for the evening. Can I take a message?”

“Oh, honey. No need to worry. I can just try again later.”

“Alright. Well, have a good night.”

“Wait a minute. If he’s gone why are you there?”

“I’m Mr. Castillo’s teaching intern but he had a family emergency so I’m just helping him get things done. Are you sure I can’t take a message or something?”

“No. I can deliver it myself. I’d rather talk to you.”

“Look, if this isn’t school related and you don’t want to leave a message I’m going to have to hang up.”

“Ooo so sassy. I love it. Sounds like you need someone to teach you, Miss Teacher. Give you a lesson on respect.”

“I don’t respect assholes. I’m ending this conversation. Don’t call again or else.”

“Or else what?”, he chuckled causing a chill to run down your spine. 

“Fuck off.” You slammed down the phone but you still felt uneasy. Dialing the apartment, you prayed one of them was home but to your dismay no one picked up. As soon as you placed the receiver back on its dock, it rung again. “H-Hello?”

“Don’t ever hang up on me again, Y/N.”, the voice growled and you quickly rose to your feet in panic at the sound of your name. 

“I-I just called my boyfriend’s. They are on their way right now so you should j-just leave.”

“Aw, sweetheart. You think Eddie and Steve can save you? That’s so cute.”

“Don’t mock me. They take care of me!” You try to control the tears of fear that threaten to fall as you remain as confident sounding as possible. 

“Oh, little one. Trust me. Your Master and Daddy can’t protect you from us.”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s the plan, pretty girl, and with that sexy ass dress you have on, it won’t be hard.”

You dropped the phone and ran out of the classroom towards the front door of the school. Tugging on it aggressively, you whined when it wouldn’t budge. The phone in the front office blared loudly making you scream. Shakily, you headed towards it, sobbing as you put the speaking to your ear. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little girl? It’s just us three tonight, baby. NO ONE is coming to save you.”

“Please…” The voice snickers at your pleading.

“Let’s play a game, Y/N. Run and hide but if we catch you we fuck you.”

“W-W-Why? If you can see me, just fucking get it over with!”

“I like the idea of you thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.”

He laughs again, making you angry. 

“No. I won’t play your game. F-Fuck you.”

The growl that flowed through had your knees weaken as panic once again flowed through you. 

“Run. Now.”

“NO!” 

The line disconnected and you stifled your sobs as you slowly tiptoed back out into the hallway. A throat clearing startled you as you turned to see a tall figure dressed from head to toe in all black, his face except for his eyes and mouth were covered. A sinister smile spread as he pulled a knife from his pocket and flashed it in your direction, taunting you as he wiggled it between his fingers. 

The man bolted forward and you ran in the opposite direction like you had never run before. Yanking open the auditoriums doors, your goal was to hide in the sound booth and lock yourself in but as soon as you ran across the stage, however, you were met with another figure dressed the same way as the other sitting haphazardly in one of the auditorium seats. 

His legs were crossed as his arms hung over the backs of the chairs with a smug grin on his face. It was almost like he was expecting you to come this way. 

Long arms tackle you from behind and you fight back as the other man wrestles you to the floor of the stage. While he tries to pin your arms down, you get in one good smack across his slightly more protected cheek before he responds by doing the same. Dizzy by the force, you allow him to get the upper hand as he turns you on to your tummy and pressed his knee into your back as he moves around behind you. 

You whimper as your arms are tugged behind your back and you hear the clinking metal before leather is wrapped around both your wrists handcuffing you in place. 

The figure in front of you all too casually stands up and walks up to the stage, kneeling down slightly so his face was level with yours.  

“Boo.”, he teases, laughing when you cringe away. Sighing, he reaches for his mask and pulls it off his face, exhaling in pleasure at the cool air. 

Your eyes quickly took note of Eddie’s features. His own eyes were dark like they normally where when you played rough but there was a coldness behind them that made the little girl inside you tremble. 

“Jesus. Do you know how long it takes for people to fully empty this building? I thought we were never going to be alone.”

You feel movement behind you again and right as you glance behind you Steve pulls off his mask as well. 

“Yeah, man, but we have her now.”

Wiggling underneath his hold, he turns you on to your back and straddles his legs over your waist.

“STOP moving, God damn it. We gave you a chance to run and hide but you didn’t want to play.”, he growled as he pointed a finger in your face. Like with Eddie, Steve’s eyes were different; darker. They both exuded a new type of confidence that had your pussy clenching between your thighs. “Nothing to say now that we’re in front of you, huh, little girl? Where did all that sass go?”

“Hm. I don’t think she’s there yet, Steven.”

“What do you mean?”

“Little girl here seems to think she’s still in some kind of control. Don’t you, babe?”, Eddie mocks making you cringe. “See. That right there.” His head tilts as his palm reaches out to grab your throat. “That little face she made. I don’t know what your boyfriends have been letting you get away with but it won’t happen here. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

You gasped as his hand tightened its grip. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I understand.”, you choke out as he releases you. 

They both chuckle as the man above you manhandles you back onto your stomach and tugs on your hair as he guides you to your knees. With one hand, Steve fumbles with his belt buckle and hastily unzips his pants before pulling out his cock that was now level with your face.

“Open.” You shook your head at his command, wincing when he pulled back on your hair. “I wasn’t asking. Open your mouth.”

Eddie slides onto his knees beside you, reaching under the bottom of your dress, and runs his fingers through your folds. 

“Little slut is so wet but won’t do as she’s told.”, he sighs with a condescending tone. “Open your mouth.” You don’t move or say anything even when the metalhead shoves two of his digits into your entrance. Steve’s angry eyes remain locked on yours, smirking when he sees them flutter as you try to do everything you can to keep your moans from escaping out of your mouth. 

“Open, Y/N.”

When you don’t respond, he thrusts into you faster and you feel your body quickly running towards that ledge. Just as you were about to fall, however, he stopped his movements making you whine in your throat. 

“Ready to behave?”

You did something then that you would never do with Eddie and Steve under any normal circumstances. In a defiant gesture, you spit in the long-haired boys face. After wiping it with his hand, he shifts his gaze back to you and flashed you smile that made your blood run cold (and your pussy drench around his still fingers).

“Oh we’re going to have so much fun with you, little girl.”

Eddie pumped his fingers again at a fast pace as you struggled to catch your breath. Right now, you were breathing mostly through your nose but it wasn’t enough with how he was building you up. When he stopped again, tears ran down your cheeks. Once he felt like your pending orgasm had fully dissipated, he started over but this time his thumb reached up to message your clit. 

You couldn’t stop it from happening. Your mouth opened as you let out a loud moan and Steve took the opportunity to guide his cock into your mouth. Eddie removed his fingers, making you jump as he lightly smacked you between your legs. 

Trying to move your head back, the metalhead held you in place as the other boy began thrusting his hips. 

“Fuck me. Her mouth feels so good. Hold her still.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not letting her go anywhere.”

“Shit. How do you think I-I should take her, man? I’m just dying to feel that pussy.”

“It’s up to you, dude. She’s our toy to use how we please. Little whore can handle anything, can’t you, babe?”

Drool dribbled down your chin as the boy continued to fuck your face making him groan at the sight. 

“Fuck, I need her now.” After pulling out his cock, you were pushed back down onto the stage, freezing when you felt steel touch you skin. “Don’t move.” 

You heard the sound of tearing fabric and shivered when the cold air caressed your skin as your now cut apart dress was tossed aside. Grabbing your hips, you were tugged backwards towards Steve who was now on his knees as well. 

Lining himself up, he roughly pushed his cock into your dripping cunt and you both mewled as he held you tightly against him. 

Hearing the clinking of another belt buckle grabbed your attention as you lifted your head to see Eddie sauntering towards you. 

“If you cum, when it’s my turn, I’m going to make sure that you’re sore between your legs for the next month. Do I make myself clear?”

“J-Jesus. She fucking liked that.”

His head slanted as he waited for your answer. Eddie knew you believed he was telling the truth because he saw the one thing you asked for push through your gaze; fear. 

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“I’m going to help keep your mind distracted.” His pants fell to his ankles as he stroked his cock a few times in front of your face. “Open.”

This time you didn’t argue or protest as you opened your mouth wide and encased your lips around him. The metalhead’s ringed hand rested behind your head as it bobbed along his length. 

“Come on, little girl. You can do better than that.” Suddenly, you felt another palm land on your hair and forcibly moved your head for you, making you gag as his cock hit the back of your throat. “You can take it all. We know you can.”

You tried keeping up with the pace they set for you but every time your head didn’t go low enough, Steve pushed you into the other boy’s lap causing you to drool and spit all over him. 

“You love this don’t you, you little whore. You like to spit.”, Eddie sneered, licking his lips while you whimpered around him. 

Steve’s thrusts started to falter, giving you sense of pride knowing he was about to cum and you hadn’t yet but your relief was short lived when he reached around and rubbed your clit with his fingers. You pushed back against their hands as your head hung in front of you. 

“No! I’m…I’m not supposed to cum. Please!”

The man ignored you as he continued till he grunted and coated your walls with his release. As he aggressively pounded into till he was empty, your own body trembled in his hold as the coil broke and you came.

Calloused fingers lifted your face from under your chin to meet Eddie’s oddly calm features. 

“Did you just cum even though I said you couldn’t?”

“I-I-I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so hard. Please.”, you cried.

Steve backed away as Eddie leaned over you to unhook your handcuffs. You took the opportunity to your advantage, resting your head in the nook between his neck and shoulder as you sobbed while continuing to apologize.

“You wanna help me, man?”

Taking hold of your hair, the metalhead walked towards the front of the stage before letting you go to jump down. Something grabbed your shoulder and your body was slammed down flat onto your back as Steve grabbed your wrists, bringing your arms above your head so he could restrain you with the handcuffs once again.

Eddie hovered over you, eyes scanning your sweaty features. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” After doing what he commands, you watch with wide eyes as he spits between your lips. “Since you love spit so much, hang onto that for me. If you can keep it in there till I say, I may actually let you cum.”

Standing to his full height, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and you whine as he guides himself into you entrance. 

True to his word, his hips slam into yours with rough abandon, your eyes squeezing shut as you focus on not swallowing the nicotine flavored salvia that currently rests on you tongue. Steve’s palms slide down your arms to your breasts eliciting a soft moan as his fingers graze your nipples. 

Eddie’s tip abuses your g-spot, overwhelming you with a feeling of euphoria that has tears falling down your face.

"Fuck! Your pussy feels too good.”, he groans as he spanks your ass, slowing his pace. “Look at me, little girl.” When you don’t move, he leans over you and lightly slaps your cheek. “Look at me.”

Your eyes flutter open and they both can’t help but smirk at your fucked out, glassy eyed expression. 

“Swallow.”

Nodding, you do it and open your mouth for him to show you listened. 

“Good girl. You wanna cum?”, Eddie coos as his nose softly caress your own.

“Please.”

“That’s it, baby. Beg me. Beg me to make you cum.”

“Mmm—please. I need you to make me cum again. I want to cum so bad, Sir, please.”

The metalhead’s mouth fell open as he thrust into you with purpose while his thumb came down to play with your clit.

“Shit. Cum with me, Y/N. I want to—mmm— fill you up as your tight little pussy clings to me.”

When you nod you head, his thumb moves faster against your nub and after a few more aggressive thrusts, you stumble over the edge right as rope after rope of his seed warms your insides.

The room goes quiet and all that can be heard is the two of you panting for air. 

“Baby girl.”, Steve whispers above you in a much softer tone than before. “Can you open your eyes for me, honey?”

When you do what he asks, you are meet with his gentle and love filled face. 

“There she is. Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

“C-Can you free my hands, Daddy?”

“Shit. Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.” 

While he removed your restraints, Eddie grabbed a bag that was in one of the auditorium chairs and jumped up beside you onto the stage.

“Drink this, sweetheart.”

“Can you help me, Sir? My arms kinda hurt.”

“Yeah, pretty girl. I can help you.”

Placing the water bottle by your lips, he guides your head back as you chug down the liquid.

“Now, did you want to shower here or at home? We can head towards the gym or—”

“I’d like to go home please. I’m sleepy.”

“I can imagine. Do you think you can walk?”

“I can carry her. Just run to the classroom real quick and grab her stuff. We’ll meet you at the van.”

#############

A small smile remained painted across your lips while the three of you sat in the bathtub as they cleaned you. 

“I don’t think she’ll be coming down from cloud 9 anytime soon.”, Eddie chuckled. “I assume we did good?”

“Very good.”

“Nothing felt over the line?”, Steve asked. 

“No. It may be too rough for an everyday thing but…for special occasions…”, you giggle. “Did I cross a line?”

“No, honey. What would make you think you might of?”

When you and Eddie exchange a look, his grin grows as he bends forward to kiss your lips. 

“You didn’t bother me, princess. It’s not like you normally go around spitting in my face. It was kind of hot if I’m being honest.”

“I just hope you know I wouldn’t normally disrespect you like that.”

“We know.” 

After comforting touches and delicate kisses, they help you out of the water and get you in comfortable pajamas before leading you to the bed. Climbing in beside you, Eddie wraps his arms around your waist as you lay your head on Steve’s chest. 

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“What we did tonight…that’s not how you viewed us that first night 5 years ago, is it?”

“No, baby. Not even close. You were rough with me but you didn’t scare me like that. I’ve always felt safe with you…even when I thought you two were assholes. Can I ask you both something?”

“Always, sweetheart.”, Eddie soothed as he tenderly kissed your shoulder. 

“What made you two decide to make a move that night? How did you know I’d respond to you the way I did?”

“Short answer? Hope.”

Steve smiled when you giggled at his response. 

“There were so many times you could have said something to rat us out but you never did. When I first spoke to you in detention or when Stevie threatened to spank you, you didn’t tell Mr. C at all. We…we’ve never told you this but we watched you when he asked you to stay behind to put everything away.”, the metalhead elaborated. 

“You had this extremely adorable, concentrated look on your face until you came back to get your things. As you walked off the stage, you were smirking. We selfishly thought maybe it was because of us so we took a short cut to a classroom and the rest is history.”

Keening into his chest, you placed a soft kiss on his skin before lifting Eddie’s hand that was intertwined with yours to your lips so you could do the same. Steve rolled onto his side, gently moving your hair and petting your head as he watched you gradually fall asleep. 

“Hey, Munson?”

“Harrington?”

“Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“Not that I know of besides work. Why?”

“I was thinking, maybe, you and I can go look at houses. See how much they cost so we can start saving and surprise Baby Girl here. She deserves a house.”

Eddie grinned as he reached over and patted his friend’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like a plan, man.”

############

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[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hii, since you asked for some Sam requests, I throught about this.

What about something where reader (female if possible) is a werewolf and it's like full moon, and she's super insecure because she doesn't want to hurt him but he stays with her during the transformation? And it's just super fluffy before and after? Also, It would be great if It was season 1 Sam :3

Thank you in advance, don't worry if you can't or don't want to do this request^^

Have a good day/night <3

.⋆｡Beneath The Moonlight｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x werewolf!plus size reader

You have a deadly secret that you’ve been keeping for almost 12 years but when Sam Winchester blows back into your life, he proves to you that it’s ok to need someone else to help with the burden

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, fear, brief references to a werewolf’s diet, self-harm in the form of using silver against herself, fluff, almost confession, I made her a little more of a traditional werewolf cause I can, brief mention of dead parents, Dean really wants to be Sammy’s wingman

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Your eyes darted to the clock above the kitchen sink as you sliced off yet another piece of pie for the ravenous hunter in your living room. There was just about an hour left till sunset- only an hour until the full moon would breach the horizon and you would be swallowed up by the monster that lived in your chest.

Even now, you could feel her flexing her claws and pushing against the walls of your mind. She wanted out and she would do anything to be free.

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing back the sting of tears as you took a deep breath and left the solitude of your small kitchen.

Sam and Dean, the sons of the man that saved you from a werewolf pack 12 years ago. John made it a habit to check in on you every once in a while but after he went missing, Dean decided that he should take on that responsibility. So as you were preparing to weather out another full moon chained up in the basement beneath your isolated farmhouse, the younger two Winchesters appeared on your doorstep, inviting themselves in. 

You knew you had to get them out, no one knew your secret and if they found out, you were sure that a silver bullet to the heart was in your future.

“It’s gettin kinda late don’t you think?” You desperately tried to keep your voice level but the flash of hazel told you that you weren’t doing a very good job. You handed Dean his third slice of pie while vehemently ignoring Sam’s gaze.

He had always known how to read your body language, even when you were both 10. “I thought you liked having us here sweetheart.” Dean attempted to croon but instead spat pie chucks across your coffee table. You shot him a look and he sheepishly wiped it up with his shirt sleeve

“I’ve got jobs I have to do early tomorrow and if you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the space to house two hunters.” Dean paused mid-bite and cleared his throat before a devious smirk grew over his lips.

“Well I guess not but you certainly have room for one.” Before you could comprehend what the older boy was implying, he had wolfed down the rest of his pie and sprung up from the couch with a speed you thought he could never possess, and ran out the front door while yelling behind him. “Have a good night!”

The roar of the Impala’s engine carried over the quiet fields surrounding your house before Sam was even halfway down the hall. Your hands trembled as he walked back into the room, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I’m sorry about him. I can call a taxi or just walk back to town if you really want me gone.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine Sam. Let me clean up and I’ll set up the bed for you.” Your throat was tight with anxiety as you felt the beast inside you grin. He’ll make a good snack, you could hear her say.

“I couldn’t take your bed.” He started but you waved him off with what you hoped was a comforting smile and not a grimace. 

“You’re too tall to fit on the couch and I won’t accidentally wake you up in the morning if you’re in my room.” Sam’s footsteps followed you into the kitchen. “Go on, I’ll only be a couple minutes. There should be some extra soap in the hall closet if you want a shower.”

You chanced a look back at your friend and caught the briefest glimpse of a soft look on his face. “Thank you.” He silently turned and left, presumably to make use of your small shower, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

If he was in your bedroom, he wouldn’t hear your screams as you turned.

——————

Pain blazed through your veins like a drug, slowly ripping you apart only to stitch you back together and do it all over again. She hated that you had tied yourself up like a dog- a silver infused iron chain wrapped around your neck and bolted to the reinforced concrete floor, the muzzle that kept her from howling bound tightly to your face and the handcuffs around your wrist that prevented you from moving lest the pure silver burn through your skin.

You eased yourself back against the far wall of the basement and turned your head to look out the lone window in the room. It was small and protected by iron bars but it allowed the warm summer breeze to wash over you, granting you a brief reprieve from the agony you were in.

As the weak moonlight finally brushed over you, your senses sharpened. You could smell the leftovers in your fridge and the scent of soap, you could see the small bugs that flew past the window and the small particles of dust that floated through the dark air. You could hear footsteps-

The basement door creaked open and you whimpered, the sound too grating on your sensitive ears. “Leave!” You snarled, your voice deeper and more dangerous as the wolf slowly consumed your mind. The footsteps continued.

Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed only in his jeans and a t-shirt. He smelt like you with a mixture of his natural musk that you could only detect when he hugged you. His eyes were downturned and shining with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The laugh bubbled up from your chest before you could stop it. It was broken and sounded more like a hyena’s cackle than any sound a human could make.

“I only know hunters, what would happen if I told them I need to eat hearts to live?” Sam flinched but didn’t look scared, he almost looked… sheepish.

“Guess you’re right.” He stepped closer to you, his tall body now illuminated by the pale moonlight. “What I meant to say was, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Silence washed over the both of you and your eyes dropped down. The shadows around you were steadily getting shorter, closing you into the far corner of the basement in a vain attempt to keep your wolf at bay.

“You left, like you were meant to. I’m meant to be alone.” You were struggling to speak as your mind slipped into a more primitive state. “Alone- can’t hurt anyone.”

Your ribs cracked and Sam stepped forward. Another wave of his scent washed over you making your chest rumble with a pleased sound. “I would’ve stayed, for you.” 

Warmth bloomed across your face even as your back collided with the cool brick wall. “I would’ve taken care of you.” He slowly dropped to his knees only an arm’s length away from you, the moonlight following behind him. 

Suddenly you were both ten years old again and grappling with the concept that the monsters in your nightmares were real. But yet again, there was the hazel-eyed son of a hunter telling you that everything was going to be ok and that even if no one else was, he would be there for you, no matter what.

A large, warm hand cupped your full cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Sh-sh-should be scared.” You growled but nuzzled into his touch anyway, desperate for the first piece of physical affection you had felt since your parents died. He smiled and took the chance to place his other hand beneath where the collar rested across your neck.

“I could never be scared of you.” Your eyes sparkled with tears which he quickly wiped away as soon as they fell. “And you don’t need to be scared of hurting me or anyone else for that matter. I’ll protect you.”

The moon bathed both of you in a serene light for only a moment before your vision began to blur and your body trembled under the strain of your transformation. “I won’t leave you behind, never again.” But it sounded more like ‘I love you’.

And as you finally surrendered to the monster within you, Sam’s face was the last thing you saw and for the first time since you had been condemned to this life, you knew peace.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

ok this is more WIBTA but it's beginning to creep into AITA territory so whatever. it's a very complex situation but i'll try to be brief and clear. me (19, they/them) and my roommate (19, she/her) are very close, she's my best friend. she has a driver's license while i do not, and i pay her gas money so she can drive me around when she's available. when not, i uber or find rides some other way. we're both disabled, she has epilepsy among other things while i have fibromyalgia and deal w intense chronic pain as a result. my roommate and her mom are very close, but have a weird and slightly toxic dynamic that's too hard to explain. my roommate primarily has seizures in her sleep, and the ones she does have while awake are not the stereotypical ones u see in media, and almost never result in loss of consciousness. this is not to undermine her struggles at all bc it's very very challenging. however, it's come up since her diagnosis that at some point her driver's license could be taken away. from what i can tell, this is not a near future possibility, because of the circumstances of her seizures. i do think it is still a possibility. because of this, roommate's mom has been very insistent that i get a driver's license. i do agree it would be easier but am genuinely terrified of learning, both because my physical health will complicate my ability, but more so because my mental health has made it dangerous for me. i've tried to explain this, but her mom has essentially told me to get over it because it's something i'll have to do anyway. although i do not blame my roommate for this, as she's largely been neutral for all this, i am getting frustrated with her mom, and have been getting into several disagreements with her. i told her it's unfair of her to expect me to just "get over" that and that my roommate could uber as needed like ive been doing. she believes im being selfish. as it stands right now, i do not want to learn to drive. if it came to the point my roommate couldn't, i might consider it, but would likely try to find other solutions. so, WIBTA for refusing to learn to drive?

What are these acronyms?