#and I'm in a new apartment and everything!! ✧⁺⸜(●′▾‵●)⸝⁺✧

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 3 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), Gore, guns, heavy BDSM themes, restraint to a chair (sexuell), Begging, multiple orgasm, strap on (r receiving) oral and fingering (r receiving) overstimulation, passing out during sex (Natasha’s Intension)

Word Count: 5,1k

A/N: next chapter will be the reveal 0.0

As you immerse yourself in your work as a journalist, you prick up your ears at the rumors about the presence of mafia gangs in the area. The rumors of danger and intrigue sent a shiver down your spine and aroused a feeling of unease that you couldn't quite shake.

Your colleague Jake leaned over from his desk, a worried look on his face. "You've heard about all this stuff, haven't you? It's crazy what's going on right now... mafia activities? Here?"

You nod and frown worriedly. "Yes, I've heard things too. To be honest, it makes me a little nervous." Jake's eyes widen with curiosity. "You don't think it could be related to your recent investigation, do you?"

You shrug, a worried look darkening your features. "I'm not sure. But I can't shake the feeling that there is more to this story than meets the eye."

With a heavy sigh, you turn back to your computer, your fingers flickering over the keyboard as you scroll through the latest reports. The headlines were emblazoned with violence and corruption, painting a grim picture of a city in turmoil.

But amidst the chaos, your thoughts turned to the task at hand. You waited, determined to uncover the truth behind the rumors and shed light on the dark underbelly of the city's criminal underworld. And as you delve deeper into your investigation, you know that you are treading on dangerous ground and risking everything to get to the bottom of the truth.

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In the cozy confines of your shared apartment, you and Natasha moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, the pleasant scent of herbs and spices filling the air as you prepared dinner together. The soft glow of the candlelight warmed the room, bathing everything in a soft golden hue.

As you worked side by side, chopping vegetables and stirring pots on the stove, Natasha couldn't help but notice the concentrated frown on your forehead, a telltale sign that something was on your mind.

"Is everything okay?" Natasha asked in a low, worried voice as she looked over at you. You took a moment to steady your hands before continuing your work. "Yes, everything is fine," you said in a tone that was not to be disdained.

Natasha raised an eyebrow questioningly, her gaze lingering on your worried expression. "You seem distracted. Is something on your mind?" You sat, put down your knife, and turned to Natasha. "I... I was doing research for work... and found out a few things that... I don't know..." you admitted, your voice sounding uncertain.

Natasha's curiosity was piqued. "Research? About what?" You hesitate, unsure of how to broach the subject. But when you met Natasha's eyes, you knew you couldn't keep the truth from her any longer. "It's about the recent increase in mafia activity in the city," you confess, your words hanging heavy in the air between you.

Natasha's expression darkened, a shadow cast over her features as she processed your revelation. "Mafia activity?" she repeated, her voice tight with concern. You nod solemnly. "Yes. It's been all over the news lately. There have been reports of violence and corruption, and... and I wonder if there's more to it."

As the heaviness of your words washed over her, Natasha's mind raced to the dangers lurking in the shadows. She knew the risks of getting caught in the criminal underworld all too well, and the thought of you being caught in the crossfire filled her with a sense of dread.

"Y/n," Natasha began, her voice sounding concerned as she gently touched her cheek, "I don't want you to get any more involved than you already might be. It could be dangerous..." But your expression hardened, your eyes meeting Natasha's with steely determination. "I have to, Natasha," you insisted, your voice firm. "This story needs to be told. People deserve to know what's really going on out there."

Natasha felt panic rising within her, the fear of losing you to the dangers lurking in the shadows threatening to consume her. She knew she had to do something, protect her lover from the dangerous path they were determined to take.

"Y/n, please," Natasha pleaded, her voice laced with desperation as she gripped her hands tightly in her own, "You don't understand. It's not safe out there. You could get hurt, or worse." But you stood your ground, your resolve unwavering in the face of Natasha's pleas. "I know the risks, Natasha," you replied, your voice remaining firm despite the turmoil of emotions raging inside you.

"I have to," you insisted, your voice unwavering. "This is my job, my responsibility. I can't just walk away from it." Natasha felt a wave of frustration rise within her, her instincts urging her to assert her dominance over you and force you into submission. "Y/n, I won’t-!“

A wave of emotion washed over Natasha, causing her to step back and reconsider her course of action. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down and push aside the overwhelming urge to assert control over you. She knew she would have to be gentler and more understanding if she wanted to convince her to abandon her dangerous endeavor.

"Y/n," Natasha said quietly, her voice free of the earlier sharpness, "I know you want to make a difference. But there are other, safer ways to do that. Please don't put yourself in danger like that. I couldn't bear to lose you." As she spoke, Natasha reached out to take your hands in hers, her touch gentle and comforting. And in that moment, she knew she would do anything to protect the person she loved, even if it meant standing by and watching them leave the fight.

With a forced nod, "You're right. I'm sorry." Your words rang hollow, even to your own ears, but you knew you had to appease Natasha for now. Natasha's expression softened, a hint of relief crossing her features as she squeezed your hands gently. "Thank you, Detka," she murmured, her voice laced with gratitude and concern. But as they stood there, locked in a silent embrace, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was gnawing at you. You knew you were lying to Natasha, knew you couldn't just run away from the truth you were seeking.

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As tensions in the criminal underworld continued to escalate over the next few weeks, Natasha was faced with a difficult decision. The other gangs became increasingly aggressive, making small but calculated moves to undermine her authority. It was clear that they saw her refusal to accept her offer as a sign of weakness and were determined to use it to their own advantage.

With each passing day, Natasha felt the pressure mounting, the weight of her responsibility tightening like a vice on her shoulders. Blood stained the streets, a grim reminder of the violence that lurked just beyond the city's facade. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a constant presence that lingered in every shadow, every dark alley.

Natasha gathered Maria and a select few men she trusted most and called a meeting, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the room. As they entered the room, their faces grim and determined, Natasha felt a surge of pride rise within her. These were her allies, her comrades, and together they would face whatever challenges lay before them, no matter what the cost.

"Thank you all for coming," Natasha began, her voice low and commanding as she addressed the group. "As you know, the situation has become increasingly tense over the past few weeks. Our enemies are growing bolder with each passing day, and it is clear that they will stop at nothing to see us fall."

She paused, letting her words hang in the air like a death sentence before continuing. "But I refuse to let that happen. We have worked too hard and sacrificed too much to allow our enemies to dictate the terms of this war. It's time to show them that we are not to be trifled with and that we will fight tooth and nail to defend what is ours."

A murmur of agreement ran through the room, the tension palpable as everyone in attendance prepared for what was to come. Natasha could see the fire in her eyes, the hunger for vengeance that mirrored her own.

"we will strike in the morning," Natasha declared, her voice cold and unyielding. "We will show them no mercy or pardon. They brought this on themselves and will pay the price for their arrogance." Her words hung heavy in the air, a silent promise of the carnage to come. Yet amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope, a chance that peace would reign again.

As Natasha's words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence filled the room. Yet amid the silence, Natasha noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. One of her men reached for the gun tucked into his waistband, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Instinctively, Natasha's hand reached for the holster at her side, her senses on high alert. "Don't even think about it," she growled, her voice deep and dangerous, looking the would-be attacker in the eyes.

The man froze, his fingers hovering over the gun, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "I-I was just..." he stammered, his voice getting quieter as he searched for an excuse. Natasha's gaze bored into him with unrelenting intensity, her own hand ready to draw her gun at a moment's notice.

As you entered the room with your usual cheerful demeanor, your eyes roamed over the assembled group, pausing briefly at the tense expressions that greeted you. You felt the palpable tension in the air and frowned in confusion.

"H-Hey, everyone.." you greeted, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty as you took in the somber atmosphere. "Did I interrupt something? I-I'm sorry!"

Natasha's gaze softened as she met your eyes, her heart aching at the sight of her innocence in the midst of her world of shadows and violence. "It's okay, I thought you were coming later? Did something happen?" she said in a soft voice as she stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I thought I'd surprise you by coming early..."

But even as you said those words, Natasha couldn't shake the unease that was gnawing at her insides. She knew she couldn't keep you in the dark forever, couldn't shield you from the harsh realities of her world. "We're almost done here, wait for me in the living room, okay?"

As you looked around the room, your eyes lingering on each person in turn, Natasha felt a surge of protectiveness wash over her. She would do anything to protect you, to keep you safe from the dangers that lurked right outside your door. And as she met your eyes once more, she silently vowed to do whatever it took to protect the person she loved, even if it meant facing her own demons.

A few hours later, as the last of her colleagues left the room, Maria stayed behind, watching Natasha with an unreadable expression on her face. Feeling the unwavering gaze of her right hand, Natasha straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for the conversation that lay ahead.

"Natasha," Maria began, her voice soft but firm, "who was that person earlier? And why is she here?" Natasha's jaw clenched slightly, and a hint of anger flashed in her eyes as she intruded on her personal affairs. "It's nothing, Maria," she replied curtly, her tone brooking no argument. "Just someone passing through."

But Maria was not so easily deterred. She stepped closer to Natasha, keeping her gaze unwavering as she continued to pursue the subject. "I know you," she said calmly. "You don't just bring anyone to our meetings. There's something you're not telling me."

Natasha's grip on the edge of the table tightened, and her frustration bubbled to the surface. She had always appreciated Maria's loyalty and discretion, but there were some things she just couldn't share, even with her closest confidant.

"Maria, I said it's nothing," she snapped, her voice sounding annoyed. "Believe me, it's better for you not to know." But Maria wouldn't let up. She leaned closer, her eyes searching Natasha's face for signs of weakness. "Natasha, eyes don't lie, you know?" she insisted, her voice soft but insistent.

For a long moment, Natasha wavered, torn between her desire to protect you and her loyalty to Maria. But in the end, she knew she couldn't hide from the truth, not from someone who knew her as well as Maria did.

With a heavy sigh, Natasha gave in, her resolve crumbling in the face of Maria's unwavering determination. "Fine," she conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. "That... She's important to me. More important than anything else in the world.”

Maria’s eyes softened with understanding as she received Natasha’s confession. “I understand,” she said quietly, her tone full of compassion. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t press any further.”

Maria also made her way to the exit, but just before she did she turned back to Natasha, "And Natasha?" Maria began in a soft but determined voice. "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect her too. Whatever it takes."

Natasha's eyes flickered with gratitude as she met Maria's, a wave of relief overtaking her at the certainty of her right hand's unwavering loyalty. "Thank you, Maria," she murmured in an emotional voice. "That means more to me than you know."

With an approving nod, Maria reaffirmed her commitment to her cause and her determination in the face of all the challenges ahead. "We are in this together," she said firmly and with conviction. "And I'll be damned if I let anything happen to either of you."

With a final nod of approval, Maria said goodbye and stepped out into the night, leaving Natasha alone in the dimly lit hallway.

Natasha took a deep breath to calm her nerves, turned around and walked back into the living room, where you waited with a worried look on your face. Despite the gravity of the situation, Natasha couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth as she saw your concern for her.

As she approached, you smiled sheepishly, your attempt at cheerfulness not quite hiding the underlying tension. "I'm sorry for storming your meeting," you began, your voice laced with a hint of nervousness. "I hope I didn't cause too much trouble."

Natasha shook her head, a small smile playing around the corners of her mouth as she sat down next to you. "Not at all," she reassured you, squeezing your hand in a gesture of comfort. "You know you're always welcome here, no matter what."

You let out a nervous giggle, the tension in the room easing a little as you made light of the situation. "Yeah, well, it's not every day I walk into a room full of serious-looking men," you joked with a playful glint in your eye. "I thought I'd stumbled into a secret society meeting or something."

Natasha laughed at your joke, grateful for your ability to lighten the mood even in the midst of uncertainty. "Believe me, it's not as exciting as it sounds," she replied wryly, her tone laced with amusement. "Just a bunch of old men fighting over territory and power."

You nodded in understanding, your expression softening with genuine concern. "Well, whatever it was, I'm just glad you're okay," you said sincerely, your eyes meeting Natasha's with unwavering support. "And if you ever need someone to look after you, you know where to find me."

The warmth from your words washed over Natasha like a comforting hug, filling her with a sense of gratitude and reassurance. Natasha couldn't help but find your concern endearing, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she leaned closer to you, your bodies almost touching. "You're sweet when you try to protect me, you know," she murmured, her voice low and husky with desire. "But I think I can take care of myself, darling."

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at Natasha's words, your heart pounding in your chest as you met Natasha's intense gaze. "I-I know," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"But I... I just can't help but worry about you."

A playful grin tugged at the corners of Natasha's mouth as she leaned even closer to you, the heat of her breath mixing with yours. "Well, if you're so worried about my safety, maybe you should show me how much you care for me.." she teased, her voice dripping with desire.

Your breath caught in your throat at Natasha's suggestive words, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the heat of her closeness. With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you stand up from the couch, your movements fluid and deliberate as you rock your hips in a subtle but unmistakable invitation.

The air crackled with electricity as Natasha's eyes darkened with desire and her pulse quickened at the sight of your sensual movements. A devilish grin spread across her face. "You look tense. Let me help you relax." Natasha stood up and walked past you.

As your bright eyes questioned her, Natasha reached for one of the long silk scarves lying on the velvet sofa. "Do you trust me?" she asked, raising a piercing green eyebrow. You swallowed and nodded hesitantly.

Clicking her tongue over her teeth, Natasha slowly approached you and wrapped the silk around your delicate wrists. She tied the young woman up, tied her up in that moment. Your breath caught as the silk tightened around your skin and the knot bound you securely to a chair.

"Natasha, what are you doing?" you whispered amusingly, your eyes shining with a seductive mix of fear and excitement. Natasha's lips curled into a playful smile. "You'll see, Detka. Just relax and let me take care of everything."

She hovered behind you, resting her fingers on your neck and gently massaging away the remaining tension of the day. The sensitive skin there grew goosebumps under Natasha's feather-light touch. You let out a trembling sigh, your eyelids fluttering.

Natasha's fingers danced over your shoulders, your soft moan guided Natasha's fingertips. It felt as if an electrical impulse echoed through the room, binding them together with an invisibly frayed rope. Her touch grew bolder, caressing the rise and fall of your chest.

"O-Oh..," you hissed through your teeth, your eyes trained on the fireplace as Natasha's hand slipped under your silk blouse.

The scorching touch of her fingers made your skin glow and her thoughts evaporate. "Relax, just let it take you," Natasha whispered hoarsely, her teeth scraping against your ear. You felt your resistance melt away, leaving you completely. Your head fell back to hit Natasha's shoulder, and you sighed again.

This time you surrendered.

Natasha's hands moved further down, sliding past your navel. She could feel your stomach clenching in anticipation. Natasha's fingers dipped beneath your lace underwear and she giggled darkly at the feeling of the soft, damp curls greeting her.

Natasha teasingly ran her fingers over your most intimate flesh, noticing every shuddering exhale, the way your whole body clenched with desire.

"Should I keep going?" she murmured in your ear, her breath hot and heavy. "Or would you rather I make you beg for it?" Your voice trembled. "K-Keep going..."

Natasha giggled, a low and sinful sound. She slid two fingers inside you, gasping as Natasha began to explore your depths. You clenched around them, muscles fluttering around her invading fingers.

Natasha began to pump them in and out, drawing a whimper from you. Your bodies moved in unison: the thrust of Natasha's fingers, the arch of your hips.

Natasha increased her pace, relentless and raw. Enjoying the intensity between them, she pulled at your earlobe with her teeth and murmured, "That's right, baby. Ride my fucking hand.”

“Oh God, yes!” you whined. Your body shook and trembled, your nipples stiff and pressing against the soft fabric of your silk blouse. The pain between your legs was sharp and insatiable. You needed Natasha inside you…now.

“Natasha, please!” you screamed helplessly, writhing against your bonds. “Fuck m-me! I need you inside me!!”

Natasha slowly pulled her fingers out of you, eliciting a moan from the bound woman. She pressed soft, long kisses to your neck and murmured, “Patience, darling. I promised you would like it.”

As she slid lower, Natasha teased and teased your pert nipples with each tantalizing breath. But that wasn’t enough. She dropped to her knees and pulled your lacy underwear down, past the curves of your hips and thighs, until it landed in a whisper-soft heap at your ankles. And then Natasha leaned forward.

Her breath was hot against your body, moistening the sensitive skin that cried out for touch. Anticipation licked at your limbs, your muscles tensed with inexhaustible desire.

Without further ado, Natasha's tongue made contact, swirling around your already stiff clit. The deliberate, sensual act elicited a loud gasp from you. You clenched your hands into fists as best you could while she was still bound, your toes curling in the delicate heels you wore.

The sweet feeling intensified as Natasha flattened her tongue, devouring every inch of you. You couldn't hold back any longer, your orgasm washed over you, a raging wave of pleasure that took your breath away.

"Oh, G-God!" you screamed, unable to suppress the cries that escaped your lips. Release washed through you in waves, every muscle in your body tensing before relaxing deliciously. The orgasm left you shaking and staggering, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

You breathe in gasps and raise your head to see Natasha grinning proudly. Before you could fully compose yourself, Natasha stood up and began to undress.

"You want more?" Natasha purred, unbuckling the belt of her pants. It fell to the floor with a sensual whisper. You nodded desperately as you looked at Natasha's fake cock, already drooling. Natasha was not only powerful, she was also captivating. Once she set her mind on something, she was never going to be stopped.

Natasha towered over you, commanding and captivatingly dominant. The sight of Natasha's bare chest, glistening with a light sheen of sweat, ignited a corresponding hunger in you. With a mischievous grin on her lips, Natasha unclasped your bra and tossed it aside to expose the stiff tips of your nipples.

She immediately lowered her head and took one into her mouth, teasing the other with a flick of her thumb. You arched up from the chair, your back arching with a ragged gasp, "f-fuck..!"

Natasha didn't let up. She continued to suck and tease, giving each breast equal attention before moving further down to taste the sweetness of your desires.

You squirmed in your bonds as Natasha's tongue entered you, exploring every inch as if she was memorizing the contours of your body.

Her teeth gently grazed your clit and a wave of pleasure washed over you, making you cry out in ecstasy. Natasha was relentless in her assault, bringing you to the brink of orgasm again and again before sending you plunging headfirst into release, a release so intense that the world around you faded into insignificance.

Your cries of pleasure echoed through the living room, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the distant symphony of horns and traffic from below. Your legs trembled, still bound to the chair by the silken bonds. Each new sensation catapulted you higher than before, and Natasha showed no signs of stopping. If anything, she became even greedier as she feasted on your most intimate flesh.

"Please," you finally pleaded, your throat raw. "I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me, Natasha." Natasha grinned, relishing the power coursing through her. She released you from your bonds and threw you onto the nearby couch.

Your breath caught as Natasha paused before entering you deeply, filling you with a moan of relief. The feeling of possession was intoxicating for both of you, your bodies melding together in raw, unbridled passion.

Natasha couldn't help but growl as she began to thrust, her hips slamming into your body with such wild pleasure that the couch slipped millimeters beneath them.

You lost yourself in a haze of pleasure, your spine arching as Natasha continued to thrust into you, your shared breaths ragged and blending into one. With each thrust, your orgasm tightened inside you.

Your bodies slammed together, raw and unyielding, and you screamed Natasha's name, pushing her closer to the edge.

Natasha could feel it building between you, the tension radiating like a living thing. Her thrusts became erratic, every muscle tensing as she surrendered to the maelstrom of pleasure that consumed her. Every nerve ending in her body hummed with life, pulsing with ecstasy as she gave up control and collapsed on you.

Her breathing became labored, your soft gasps mingling with Natasha's hoarse breaths. Natasha could taste the faint salt of sweat and the sweetness of your desire mingling on her tongue.

Her hands roamed possessively up your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. With a sinful smile, she gently caressed the curve of your hips and sank her fingers into her lover's soft flesh, squeezing and kneading it lightly as you whimpered under her touch, trembling with exquisite sensitivity. He thrust again,

"Shit, Y/n," Natasha moaned. "You're so fucking hot and tight, baby. I can't believe this is all mine."

"O-Only y-yours," you gasp in response. Natasha continued to pleasure every sensitive inch of you as if it were her own canvas.

You felt your inhibitions slipping through your fingers like sand. The calm of Natasha's relentless pursuit awakened an insatiable hunger within you, an unquenchable burn that no ordinary man could ever quench. Only Natasha could make you feel so strong, desired and adored.

She was the mistress of your body and knew exactly which buttons to push and when. Every cell in your body ached with electric tingles as Natasha took command and squeezed you into her couch.

Natasha leaned down and nibbled on the soft skin of your neck before whispering, "I want you to scream my name. I want you to beg for more and never forget who you belong to."

You arched beneath Natasha, whimpering in anticipation. Your heart pounded against your chest and your breathing was rapid. You felt a shiver run down your spine as Natasha's fingers moved to the top of your thighs with an unbearably light touch.

Natasha's grin widened as she dipped her fingers between your wet folds and found your clit swelling with need.

She began to circle them with just the right amount of pressure, drawing a moan from you. "God, yes," you breathed, lifting your back off the couch.

Natasha increased the pace of her fingers, pleasure writhing deep in your belly. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your breathing becoming more and more ragged as you clung to Natasha's shoulders. "A-Ah, Natasha!" you screamed again as release washed over you.

But Natasha wasn't done yet.

No, she wanted to keep driving you to the edge until there was nothing left but pure, unadulterated pleasure. She slid down your body, kissing and licking her way down until she reached the soft curls between your legs. Natasha inhaled deeply, savoring your musky scent before diving in with unbridled abandon. She swirled her tongue around your clit, enjoying the gasps and moans that escaped her friend's lips.

Natasha's fingers penetrated further into Di, who writhed in pleasure and pushed back against her lover's hand. With her free hand, Natasha reached up and ran a finger over your nipple, stiff with desire. She pinched it playfully between her fingers as you moved your hips, desperate for more. Natasha increased the rhythm of her tongue on your clit, enjoying every gasp that escaped her lover's throat. You were close, Natasha could feel it.

She penetrated her lover deeper, feeling your muscles tighten around her fingers as you came ever closer to another explosive climax. Natasha swirled her tongue faster, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. And just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Natasha curled her fingers inside you and hit the sweet spot that made your body tremble and twitch with pleasure.

"N-Natasha!" you screamed, your voice hoarse from the intensity of her climaxes. "I-I can't... I can't a-anymore!"

But Natasha wasn't done with you yet. She continued to pleasure you, driving you to the brink of insanity with every flick of her tongue and every thrust of her fingers.

Your legs trembled violently, your toes curled as you felt another orgasm building inside you. It was too much, too intense, and yet you never wanted it to end. A sinful grin spread across Natasha's face as she watched you fall apart under her touch. Her power was intoxicating, addictive, and you surrendered to it willingly.

As the intensity of their lovemaking reached its peak, your senses were overwhelmed, your body succumbing to the overwhelming waves of pleasure that washed over you. In a dizzying whirlwind of sensations, you felt yourself slipping away, your consciousness sinking into the depths of blissful oblivion.

With a soft moan of ecstasy, your body went limp in Natasha's arms, your breathing shallow and unsteady as you surrendered to the ecstasy of their shared passion. As Natasha continued to move in a primal rhythm, your eyelids fluttered closed, your mind drifting into a hazy, euphoric fog.

For a fleeting moment, you teetered on the edge of consciousness, your body flooded with a feeling of weightlessness and euphoria. But as the sensations overwhelmed you, you lost touch with reality and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As Natasha felt you go limp in her arms, a wave of concern washed over her, her heart pounding with fear at the thought that she had pushed you too far. With gentle hands, she cradled your unconscious body against her chest, her touch tender and soothing as she whispered words of comfort into the silence of the night.

Despite the urgency of the situation, she couldn't help but linger by your side for a moment longer, enjoying the calm that surrounded her in the silence of the night.

With a soft sigh, Natasha gently pulled away from your embrace, careful not to disturb your sleep. As she stood next to the couch, a twinge of guilt tugged at her heart, knowing she was leaving you behind once again, without explanation or reassurance.

Natasha brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, her lips lingering on your skin a moment longer than necessary. "Forgive me," she whispered softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise I'll be back before you know it."

With a heavy heart, Natasha turned away from your sleeping form and made her way to the door, her steps purposeful and determined. As she slipped out into the cool night air, the weight of her responsibility was upon her once again, driving her forward with a sense of urgency that brooked no delay.

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🏷️ TAGLIST:

@kipitou @thalia-is-not-ok @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff

[hiaon]

Fan!Yandere!Oc x CamBoy! Reader

(I FINALLY HAVE MOTIVATION)

Disclaimer: Toys, Blackmail, & masturbation.

Fan!Yandere!Oc was probably you most number one fan, and definitely has participated in every streams and watched everything that you have ever done in your carrier as a CamBoy.

Fan!Yandere!Oc favorite things you is that you only do solo, and the things that gets him harder the most is when you get all whimpery in camera and babbling nonsense. He's wondering that could he do that if he fucked you all night?

Fan!Yandere!Oc had a new roommate which is you, he didn't really care of you at one point because he was just focused on you at his phone.

Fan!Yandere!Oc immediately noticed that you where his favorite CamBoy when you took a picture of the apartment that you we're momentarily staying.

Fan!Yandere!Oc knew he had to make you stay, but, he was so nervous to talk to you because he can finally see your face since you always wear a mask when streaming or recording.. He really wanted to talk to you, he wanted to fuck you already.

Fan!Yandere!Oc was masturbating to your videos like always, but it made his harder that he knew you we're 2 doors away when putting that 7-inch dildo into your lubed up hole.

Fan!Yandere!Oc holded up for 3 week of talking and to you— nervously. Well, except of stealing your boxers full of your musk. He was at complete bliss whenever deeply inhaling into your boxers.

Fan!Yandere!Oc couldn't hold it any longer, and blackmailed you in having sex with him because he was going to leak your face into the internet, and you had some of your videos doing in at work.. So, you said yes to avoid at losing your job to a side job.

He trusts deep inside you — fuck, how is it even possible of having such a long and girthy cock.

"Ahgn! Shoo good.!" You moaned out into him.

"You like that?" Hardy said whispering in your ears, and you eagerly nodded. To be honest, you didn't really experienced this good in your whole sex life as well as having a raw cock up in your ass because you always put a condom to whoever you we're fucking.

You forgot on how you we're even in that situation, and definitely didn't see the Fujifilm X-T4 camera pointing to you two fucking like bunnies in heat. With your face fully in display, meaning for Hardy more blackmail and masturbation material.

"H-hardy! I'm so c-close-! Ahn-" you moaned like you have never moaned before.

"Then come." Hardy even did more powerful trust than earlier which made you more faster to come.

You have never passed out so fast after sex for a long time ago..

Fan!Yandere!Oc even blackmailed you when you talk to other guys, because he is the only guy that can ever get to see how beautiful you look.

Fan!Yandere!Oc is happy that you aloud him to be in on of your videos! It really gave him a lot of pride in side him, and even though he blackmailed you. You eventually forgot about it because sex with him is amazing.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

 Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate. 

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans. 

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

[nicohischierz]

who's afraid of little old me?: nico x player!reader

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

you stalked the comments under your post, whilst you knew you shouldn't have paid any attention to what was being said, you couldn't help yourself as curiosity got the best of you.

negativity is something everyone would tell you not to pay attention to but it was hard to do so when it was everywhere. it was as if the fans were ready to attack you at any point.

they didn't understand the hard work you put in to make it to the NHL. the blood, sweat and tears that went into ensuring your place in a professional hockey league.

the comments made by fans who didn't appreciate your hiatus were something you expected but after years of enduring such unnecessary hate, their comments only fuelled your want to play better in the season to come.

after giving birth to your daughter, you readied yourself for world championship games and surprised everyone when your name appeared on the list.

your interview was like a record scratch at a party. the interviewers asked about the influx of negativity towards you and you replied "who's afraid of little old me?"

they laughed it off as a joke but in your mind, you knew they should be.

the news of yours and nico's relationship spread like wildfire amongst the hockey community. adding the birth of your child made people question whether you were on the team for your skill or convenience.

whilst both of you were happy to be open about your relationship, you couldn't help but wonder why your name was the only one being tarnished.

"schatz, i will tell all of them to stop what they are saying. they wouldn't be true fans if they think it is okay to bring one of us down," nico promised one night.

you turned to him and smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. "you don't have to worry. it's not anything new,"

not only was your relationship the talk of the summer, but once the season had started paul bisonette made it his life's mission to make snide remarks about you relationship.

the jokes piled up as you played game after game, until one day you couldn't take it anymore. you sat in your apartment, tears streaming down your face as another joke made its way around the internet.

the devils were playing the rangers and body's were being thrown throughout the whole game. whilst you were a person who wasn't afraid to lay a hit, you steered away from fights.

but as a player from the opposing team chirped in your ear every moment he could, you dropped the gloves landing punch after punch until the referees pulled you apart.

in your post-game interview, a reporter asked what prompted you to start the fight and you answered. "I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean. it was about time I reminded everyone why I'm here,"

yourusername

yourusername: who's afraid of little old me?

no matter what you did, it seemed that the media was out to get you. now people were questioning your abilities as a mother as you continued on with your career.

"nico you tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? every article about the devils has mentioned me in some and you can stand here and tell me that they didn't do it to hurt me," you screamed.

you came back to the season, feistier than before. showing everyone just how disturbed they made you. starting fights whenever and raking up your penalty minutes.

the older guys in the league (sidney crosby, matt martin and brad marchand) had all expressed their concern for the way you were acting and staged an intervention.

during the all-star break, they cornered you in your home and interrogated you about your behaviour. "we know what it's like to have all this media attention so you don't have to fight this on your own," matt prompted

you shrugged his hands off your shoulder and stood up. "all of you can talk about your difficulties but you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?" you retorted, referring to your post-game interview where your frustrated tears were addressed by everyone.

as the season came to an end, the devils had clinched a playoff spot and you had been scratched the past five games. your behaviour had changed since your talk with sid, matt martin and brad but the three knew the media's words made a lasting impact on you.

so as the devils faced off against the penguins for the first round and reporters asked if you would play the way you have all season you replied, "I am the way I am because of the media. you all act afraid of me when this the a product of the belittling I received upon coming back,"

[lieslab]

Teacher's pet

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: Chan finds you late at night struggling with the realization that your high school teacher groomed you.

Genre: Angst with comfort/hurt

Word Count: 3.9K

Trigger warning: Grooming, pedophilia, abuse of power via manipulation, mentions of sex, rape, and sexual assault.

A/N: To the requester for this one, I tried my best while writing this. I did quite a bit of research with this topic. This is incredibly heavy stuff. I'm sorry that this happened to you and to the rest of you, if you've ever gone through something similar, I'm so sorry. Grooming is horrible and I wish it was one of the many things that didn't exist in the world. I hope this can provide, even if it's just a sliver, some sort of comfort <3

_ _ _

When Chan came home from work, you were missing. The two of you had shared an apartment for quite a while. You both went half and half for everything. Living with a roommate made everything cheaper. 

“Where are you?” Chan called out. He let his knuckles fall against your bedroom door, but there wasn’t a response. Holding his breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open to reveal nothing. 

Your bed was messy and unmade. Your favorite color of bedding was twisted and one of your pillows was nearly tipping onto the floor. A half-smile came over Chan’s face as he picked it up and placed it back in its proper spot. 

It seemed like you were missing, until he realized your bedroom window was unlocked. So you must have climbed out onto the roof. This late at night, it was a treacherous and dangerous task, but you still managed. 

You managed to find the footholes in the darkness. In your worn sneakers, you scaled up the two story building and sat up on the fired clay. It wasn’t the best idea, but the roof was where you could breathe. 

You and Chan came out here at night all the time. When life became too heavy and you needed fresh air, this was where you went. He came out here to come up with new lyrics and song ideas. 

It wasn’t often that the two of you crossed paths on the roof. When you did, the two of you sat in your respective spots. Chan sat on the left and you sat on the right. Your legs dangled over the edge and the moon hung high up in the sky. 

Dotted with freckled constellations and the occasional shooting star, you were at ease up here. The air smelled faintly sweet and floral from the cherry blossom trees. In your opinion, they smelled better up here.

The busy traffic of Seoul slowed to a crawl late at night. Most of the time, there’d barely be anyone out here. When they drove by, the faint hum of the accelerator and the occasional huff of gasoline or diesel drifted by. 

This time of night, it was wondrous. The grass was starting to grow again and this was the first time you had been up here since winter. The iciness and chill made the roof tiles too slick to climb. 

On the roof, you let your legs dangle down and your ankles hung off the edge. Chan pried his fingers beneath your window panel and pushed it up. He stuck his head out and reached up.

You stayed still at the sound of stirring from below. Chan climbed up the side of the building and onto his side of the roof. With a groan, he dropped his body onto the cracking tile. 

Your eyes briefly darted towards him before they went back and refound the distance across the way. He must have just got back from the studio. He was still in a pair of black basketball shorts and a matching zip-up hoodie. 

His calves were illuminated by the white moonlight. He rubbed them a few moments and curled his legs up while mimicking your own posture. 

Your legs were tucked to your chest and your arms wrapped around them. The natural line of your mouth drooped down a little more tonight. There was a glassiness to your eyes, as if you were holding back tears. 

When Chan realized it, he frowned, but he didn’t want to pry. “Rough night?” He offered weakly. 

All you could do was nod without a word. Sometimes reality was like a shard of glass. Swallowing it left your throat hoarse and mangled. It shredded the slippery sides of your esophagus and tore all the way down. The ache and burn left behind was embedded in your brain and it’d always linger like a shadow. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Chan offered. 

You shook your head and kept your gaze to the distance. If you looked at him, you’d break down and you didn’t want to do that. You wanted to forget about this dark period in your life. You wanted to toss out the memories and let them drift away in the wind; never able to hurt you ever again, but memories are not like dust, they’re much more like syrup. 

You can scrub and scrape, but there will always be sticky parts left behind and between the intricate folds of your brain. You can dig and claw, but some memories will be there until the end of time; small annoying bits that are just out of reach. 

“Hmm, okay.” Chan slung a hand over his opposite wrist. The two of you sat for a few moments until a dimpled grin stretched across his face. “What if I offered you your favorite popsicle?” 

You glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. He let out a small giggle and reached into the pocket of his hoodie. When he pulled it out, he was gripping the familiar packaging of your favorite popsicle flavor.

That must have been the reason why he came up here to begin with. Sometimes the two of you would get things for one another. He must have been unable to wait for you to come down, so he went up. 

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble as you gently pulled it from his hand. 

“You can thank me by telling me what’s got you so glum.” He pulled out another popsicle from his other pocket and began to unpeel it. “You know me, I won’t judge you.” He flashed you a reassuring smile before he tore open the wrapper. 

“I know.” 

“Then what is it?” He couldn’t help himself. He was so curious and he was dying to know. It was an itch that couldn't be scratched enough. “What’s on your mind? Hmm?” He shifted closer to you and took a bite of his frozen treat. 

Your lips pressed together and you debated on telling him. The topic was one you had never told him about and it would be a tough conversation for the two of you to have. You sucked in a deep breath before you released it. 

“It’s um…it’s quite a conversation. It’s a lot and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Chan laughed, “how bad could it really be?” 

“I loved him,” you mumbled. Your eyes stayed on your treat while you slowly began to unwrap it. 

“Who?” 

“My teacher.” 

It was slightly melted from where it pressed against the warmth of Chan’s skin. You remembered how warm skin could be. After all, you felt the contact of another human far more than you wanted to when you were younger. 

Chan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I loved some of my teachers too. My favorite one was my second grade teacher. What’s the big deal?” 

“No,” you shook your head, “I loved him.” 

“Like…crushing?” 

You sucked in a deep breath and shut your eyes. “It was more than that. It was so much more and there’s a whole story involved. It’s a messy situation that still has me pretty screwed up. I wish he didn’t control me anymore, but…” 

You bit your lip trying not to cry. Ever since you found out that the high school teacher, who had groomed you, had gotten married, it was killing you. That was supposed to be you. You were supposed to be the one who married him. He talked about it all the time. 

Chan pulled his half-consumed popsicle away from his mouth. With furrowed eyebrows, he took in the distress on your face. His lips puckered together before he went on. “Did something happen?” 

“I fell in love with him.” 

“Your teacher?” 

“And you know what the worst part is?” Glossy tears began to fill your eyes. “I really believed he loved me back.” 

Chan stayed silent and attempted to put all the pieces together. The things you were saying weren’t adding up. There was no way you had a thing with your teacher as a kid. No fucking way. He would have known and you would have told him. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to speak. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.” 

“It started at the beginning of high school. I had the most amazing math teacher. He was young and he was charming. He couldn’t have been much older than his late twenties. He looked like he walked straight out of Hollywood.” 

“The very first assignment he assigned was a get to know me project. He knew I lived with my mom because I mentioned that my dad had been killed in a car accident. I was a kid and that grief was still so new. I was grieving and so was my mom.” 

Chan nodded and let you continue. 

“And then not too long after that, he’d start asking me to stay after class, so he could help me with a few lessons. It was fine in the beginning, I was just a student who needed some extra help, but it escalated.” 

The popsicle was beginning to melt down your hand, but you didn’t care. It oozed across your thumb and caressed your wrist. If you paid too close attention, you could still feel his warm callouses brush against your soft skin. 

“And that’s when the touching began.” 

“The touching?” 

“It was innocent, I swear. He’d come up behind me and began to rub my shoulders while I worked on problems. He’d bend down and whisper his advice into my ear.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Involuntarily, your body was reliving everything. Goosebumps slipped down your arms and a chill swept across your spine. 

“Despite how weird it was, I didn’t mind it. Things continued and he made me feel wanted. Over time, he started to get permission from my mom to bring me home. He used to ask about my dad. Apparently, he lost his own dad when he was a kid, so he knew how it felt.” 

Chan felt nothing, but disgust. He wanted to plug his ears and he wanted you to stop. How old were you during that time? Thirteen? Maybe fourteen at the latest? You were just a kid. 

“I missed my dad so much and he was so kind. I loved the extra attention. During class, he’d brush an arm against me and mutter an apology. He’d let his hand drag across my desk a little longer than normal as he collected my paper with a smile.” 

“I-I don’t know. I just really liked how he made me feel and I know-” Your voice cut off. The lump in your throat sat there like a boulder. “I know it wasn’t right, but at the time, I adored everything about it.” 

You wiped an arm across your eyes and kept your fingers wrapped around the popsicle stick with the other hand. Your fingers had gone white around the wooden stick. Reliving all of it was like a knife in the chest. 

“There was one day where I was in his car. He started to attend all my sporting events to cheer me on. My mom was sick, so she asked if he could drive me there. I-I know how awful it is, but he asked me if I ever had intercourse.” 

Chan’s voice stuck in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He wished he could wake up from this nightmare. How could he not know about this? How long had you been burying this pain inside? 

“And then when I said no-” 

His heart dropped. 

“He said he could show me, so I knew what to do.” 

And then it shattered. His own tears began to creep up in his eyes. You were just a kid, at that age, you were practically a goddamn baby. How dare someone in such a privileged position hurt you like that. 

He was a teacher and you were his student. There was a position of power over you. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair, and it was morally fucked. 

He wanted to throw up. The sweet burst of cold popsicle faded from his tongue. Now the artificial sweetness wanted to make him vomit. He wanted to bend over and throw up. 

After a few moments, despite it all, he finally got out the words he was afraid to ask. “Did he…you know?” 

When you didn’t respond, he already knew. It crushed his heart. His lungs were on fire and they had burst. An indescribable bright blue rage had ignited. It burned hot enough that it could melt towns and murder platoons of fully armed men. 

“Your teacher raped you,” he whispered. 

“It wasn’t like that, I said yes and I-” 

“You were a child!” His voice flew out stern. “You were a child and he was a teacher! He should have never put his filthy hands on you! That goddamn bastard, I’ll fucking kill him!” The tears in your eyes slid down your cheeks faster. “How long did this go on for?” 

“Years,” you weakly got out. “It stopped a few months after I graduated. He said that he needed space. He said it wasn’t working out. He said I-I wasn’t good enough anymore. He said so many things.” 

Chan silently did math in his head. He remembered that when he met you, you had graduated nearly a year prior. The two of you were around the same age at the time, but that was years ago. It must have been shortly after the fact. 

“And where is he now?” 

“Still teaching.” 

“I- Huh? What?” 

“He’s still at the same school and teaching the same grade. He just recently got married to a girl that graduated a few months ago.” 

Chan closed his eyes and tried to focus on calming his raging blood pressure. It wouldn’t help either of you, but he was furious. He probably did the same thing to that girl that he did to you. He probably groomed her too and it made him want to scream and throw something. He wasn’t okay with people taking advantage of others and, specifically, more younger people. 

You sniffled and stared out at the distant neon lights. A silence grew between the two of you and you knew you hurt Chan’s feelings. You didn’t mean to, but you needed to get it all out. 

“How do you feel about it now?” 

You paused for a moment thinking about his words. “I feel so ugly. I feel like I was used and then tossed to the side. I know it sounds bad, but I wish I still had his validation. I still crave it even though it’s been years.” 

“I’m really sorry you went through that. It’s a tough situation and you were a kid. You don’t have to beat yourself up over it. You didn’t know and I-” 

“But I did know. I knew what was going on and I wanted it to happen. I liked him and it made me feel good. It made me feel loved, so he didn’t groom me and it’s my fau-” 

“Don’t make excuses for him!” Chan’s voice went shrill. “He was a grown man and you were a child! You were a baby! You were just growing into becoming your own person and starting high school!” 

“Don’t you dare give him another excuse. He knew what he was doing and he knew it was wrong. He should have had the intelligence to stay away from you and never pursue you like that. He’s sick!” 

“Y-You don’t get it.” 

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it. You’re letting this man get away with this disgusting behavior. What about that girl, huh? What about that girl he married? If another teacher was sleeping with a fourteen year old, would that be okay?” 

“No! No! Of course not, but things were dif-” 

“You were groomed,” Chan cut you off. Tears streamed down his face. The popsicle was long gone from his hand. Instead, it melted into a puddle on the warm roof tile. “You are a victim in this whole scenario.” 

“But I-” 

“You are. You are a victim and I will not stop saying it because it’s clear you’ve been brainwashed. You were a child and you didn’t know any better. You were put in an adult scenario when you were a child. You were taken advantage of by a pedophile. Do you hear me?” 

Angry tears of frustration poured down his cheeks. He hated that you were blaming yourself for this situation. He hated that you couldn’t see the situation like he could. The grooming had worked on you. So blinded, the truth was skewered in your eyes. 

“I will never shut up about it. You were sexually assaulted and raped by a pedophile. You were a child and I don’t care how nice he was. I don’t care if he bribed you with compliments and the affection your life lacked.” 

“If you had a fourteen year old kid now, what would you think? If this same thing happened to them? If they came home and announced they had sex with their high school teac-” 

“Stop!” You cried as you squeezed your eyes shut. “That’s different! It’s entirely different! Stop it! Stop it!” 

“Then tell me what the difference is.” 

“The difference was that it was me! I was mature for my age and I-” Your eyes reopened to look at Chan. 

The way he was looking at you now, it was killing you. The glassy eyes and the furrowed eyebrows. There was anger looming in that russet brown. The moonlight reflected off them and bounced it back towards you. 

You couldn’t help it as your exterior began to crack. Like an egg, pieces of shell were ripped away. Your bottom lip trembled and you struggled to get out the next few words. 

“T-The difference is that I just wanted to be loved by a father figure. I-I missed my dad so much and I-” You didn’t get a chance to finish because you burst into sobs. 

It was overwhelming as you cried. The stickiness still stuck to your hand. The liquified popsicle drizzled down the clay tiles and dripped off the roof. This hurt buried inside was killing you. You remembered all of it. 

You remembered how uncomfortable you were when his chapped lips met yours. You remembered the way his fingers tightened against your hips. Puberty was still relatively new to you and you were trying to grow more into your developing body. 

Your limbs were a little longer. There was more weight in places there hadn’t been before. It was only the start of freshman year. You were new to high school and things were much different. 

You remembered how much it hurt the first time. How you were left to fend for yourself in a puddle of your own warm blood. A little fearful, you remembered the growing disgust you felt deep inside yourself, but you thought it was normal. 

You couldn’t get your innocence back. Society was cruel when it came to such a thing. You weren’t pure anymore, you were infected and diseased. You were as filthy as the rest of them. A fallen angel who had lost their wings. 

If your mother ever would have known, she would have lost it. You always grew up being told sexual intimacy was something that happened a lot later in life, but you were so mature for your age. At least, that’s what your teacher said. 

He liked the way your body looked. You were young, you were fresh, you were nothing, but a docile little lamb. With your sparkling doe-eyes, you were nothing, but a toy for him. 

Your skin was unmarked by anyone before him. You were so young and naive. You were malleable and pliable; perfect for a hungry wolf like himself. The young lambs always have the cleanest and purest blood; they always taste the sweetest. 

You wanted love, he wanted pleasure. You wanted affection, he craved attention. You wanted a father, he wanted your freshly ripened body; straight from the vine, you were plucked for him and him alone. 

What a perfect and sweet peach that you were. So ripe, so delectable, not a bruise detected on your delicate flesh. And your juice, how irresistible you were. 

Plucked from the vine, yanked from the others, and taken a bite out of. When you were old enough, you were tossed to the ground. It was there where you rotted with the other withering peaches.

You fermented a soft sweetness for the flies until you withered brown and green. You withered away in the scorching sun. Your once soft skin writhed and squirmed until you decomposed into the dirt to be walked over again and again and again. 

You had never felt quite right since then. You searched for love in the wrong places. You fell to your knees and begged for an ounce of love. Nobody could fill you and supply you with enough love as your teacher had. 

He told you just enough to keep you happy. After a while of teaching a dog a new trick, you don’t have to teach them anymore. You grew to learn what he liked and disliked. It was a toxic tornado filled with an improper power dynamic. 

He didn’t care about the sticky hands and half-melted popsicles anymore. Chan gently grabbed your forearm and pulled your body towards him. Your shoes scraped along the cracked tile. 

Beneath the moonlight, you fell apart as Chan’s hands wrapped around you. Unlike your teacher, his hands didn’t roam your body. They didn’t search for sexual pleasure. He didn’t use your body for his advantage. His arms wrapped around your back and they stayed there. 

He soothed you softly and rocked you back and forth trying to comfort you. He had no doubt that you were exhausted. This was a lot to share with anyone and that included him. He continued to rock you and placed his chin on the top of your head. 

He’d sway all night if he had to. He’d sing you a soft lullaby and lure you to sleep. He’d keep away anyone who dared to lay a rotten finger on you. 

In a few hours, the moon would be replaced with sunlight. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Your sobs began to turn into quick hiccups. He kept his arms around you and quietly cooed. 

He needed to find you someone to talk to. Your perception of everything was still warped. The past still had its claws on you. You were still under the illusion your teacher had created. You were a victim, but he was determined to help you become a survivor. 

You were so strong. You had hid this from him for years. As your hiccups began to fade away, he gently placed his lips on the top of your head in an attempt to comfort you. 

No matter what happened tomorrow, he’d remind you how much he loved you over and over again. He’d continue to show you what real love was. Again and again, he’d show you until one day, you realized what healthy love truly looked like.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[muzsmoux]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[sykosugu]

♤♢ on the run ♧♡ | five

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go.a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ aw: character death (not mc), blood, violence, ooc toji,

♡ currently: completed

♤ taglist: closed

♢ wc: 2.3k

♧ carlile speaks: omg we have arrived at the end of Sugu and Ruby's story. Im not sure how some of you will react to this part but I'm excited to find out! thank you all so much for the love over the course of this story. this was my first post in the jjk fandom and I feel like I was welcomed with open arms. I love and appreciate every single one of you in this community I've built. thank you all again for deeming me worthy of your time! see you in the next story! ALSO a big thank you to @celestie0 for helping me with this final chapter. I would not have done it without you!

♡: previous part | you are here

Toji Fushiguro was your best friend. Or at least you thought he was. Toji was a contact you made when you were eighteen years old, fresh out of highschool and right after your parents had kicked you out. Claiming they don’t want to enable your lifestyle. Doing drugs with your friends, until the drugs no longer interested you. Then came the shoplifting. That’s where you shined. You could steal anything. Chanel. Prada. Louis V. Any of it. What can you say, you wanted the best of the best. 

You’d been staying with some of your “friends” you’d made along the way. Friends who more so wanted you to live the life they were living; sitting at home getting high all day, but you wanted the action. You wanted to be in the trenches. Wanted the thrill of the job, not the fabricated thrill from the drugs. You wanted the real high.

Toji was someone you ran into at the right time, he needed someone to train to help with small bank heists and you needed somewhere new to stay.

Toji was there for you. He housed you, kept you fed. Kept you happy, in so many more ways than one. He gave you an immense amount of knowledge. How to keep your cool. How to handle a weapon. How to make yourself into a weapon. 

“You are your biggest asset, use it.” rings in your ears during every job. 

All of the hand to hand combat you’d learned was taught to you by him. He was the first person you’d ever unintentionally kicked their ass.

“Again,” he pants, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand, a sick smile on his face. He flexes his hands before balling them back into fists, taking his standing position; arms up in front of his face.

“Toji,” you warn. “I think we got th–,” you start to object, but Toji isn't having any of that.

“Again.”

And so you do. You continuously knock this grown man to the floor. His eyes grow with adoration after every punch; every kick. He was so proud. Nobody was ever able to land a blow, much less knock him off his feet. But you were so quick and nimble, he was hardly able to keep track of you. 

You’d originally only ever used masks and weapons to rob your banks, but when you met Toji your entire perception of the way you could do everything changed. He was the one who taught you to hide most of your face. Only leave behind minor details they can use. Always follow them into the room, never be the first. And always leave last. 

Toji was beyond proud of you. That’s why when you’d met Sukuna and immediately fell for his charm, his attitude changed. He was less than thrilled. It wasn’t a shock to him that he’d fallen for you, but it wasn't something he’d planned on either. He thought you’d had the chemistry, but his timing was all off. You’d met Sukuna. He didn’t anticipate someone else scooping you up the way he wanted to. Toji wanted everything with you, he was training you to be able to reign with him, not somebody else. Toji needed a way to be close to you, so he became Sukuna’s right hand. His business partner. Working his ass off to get the position he’s in now. Practically kissing Sukuna’s ass in order to be near you. Taking job after stupid job to prove himself worthy.

If only Toji had been honest with you from the start.

Sukuna was greedy. He had everything but needed more. Craved it even. Then he met you and needed to have you too.

But you showed him up. Toji had trained you beyond what anyone had ever seen before. You made Sukuna feel small; and that just wasn’t going to fly. Sukuna wanted you to keep his bed warm more than anything since he found out you were more skilled than him. Sukuna tried his best to kill your spirit; slowly of course. Taking you off of jobs, telling you that your skillset wasn't as good as others and you were not needed anymore. He tried distracting you with money and shopping sprees that worked for a while, but you eventually run out of things to buy when you have the access to buy anything you want. He even made sure to make you question your own physical appearance by slyly flirting with other members of his team in front of you; then gaslighting you into thinking you were seeing things. 

Toji held you when you cried to him. He’d smooth his hands up and down your back as you sobbed into his chest. How he’d wish you would see how terribly you were being treated. But if sukuna found out he was speaking ill of him, he'd be dealt with. So he held out for as long as he could, but you were the first one to break. You wanted to leave and live a life of your own. Toji was so happy for you, but wanted that life with you. He’d never told you any of these things, in fear of rejection from you and in fear of retaliation from his now boss.

Toji wishes you’d never introduced him to Sukuna. Toji wishes you’d be his. Toji’s world fell apart when he found out you were making beds with a cop. The actual enemy. He thought you’d be smarter than that. 

When Sukuna informed Toji of his plan to execute you for treason, he was terrified. But he couldn't say anything. He couldn't risk losing everything he’d built, especially now knowing you’d never felt the same way about him. He assumes so anyways, claiming it was the safe assumption.

Toji knew something had gone amiss the day Sukuna went to finish the job and he hadn’t returned. Toji was prepared to take over no questions asked. He began making changes in command, having conversations with his chain when there was word of disturbances in the hall.

Once the police bore into the casino penthouse, aiming straight for Toji, he knew exactly who he was dealing with when he looked into Suguru’s eyes as he stared him down behind the barrel of his gun. 

“Toji Fushiguro, you are under arrest for the murder of Ryomen Sukuna. You have the right to remain silent…” Satoru speaks from his spot in the middle of the room, gun raised at the man seated before him.

“So, you’re the one, huh?” Toji speaks over Satoru, nodding his head at Suguru.

“What?” Suguru lowers his gun momentarily.

“You’re the one she fell for,” Toji laughs from his chair. He swirls the whiskey around in his glass before he stands, raising his hands into the air. “I didn't do this, but I’ll go down so she doesn't have to.”

Satoru walks behind him to place the cuffs around his wrists.

“You loved her too.” Suguru states. “Didn’t you?”

Toji just smiles as Satoru walks him out in his cuffs. He did. He loved you more than anything else on this planet. But he’d rather you live the life you wanted than stand in your way. It’s why he helped you leave Sukuna before. He knew you didn’t see him in that same light and he was okay with that. He was just happy to see you happy.

Suguru felt bad at that moment, but he knew he’d keep that information to himself. 

The copious amounts of forged documents, planted evidence, fake witness statements.. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Toji wasn't the one who killed Sukuna. Everything made it seem like Toji was tired of being second in command and wanted it all. 

Toji would take whatever punishment was coming his way; he knew this was your doing. He knew you’d be broken once you found out he hadn’t attempted to stop Sukuna. Toji was supposed to be your safe haven, and he let you down. He knew that. So he was prepared to take whatever you thought was a suitable punishment for him. He’d kneel on the ground you walked on if it meant making you smile. Especially since the guilt ate him up inside for never standing up for you earlier. He swears he’d do anything to make you happy, but he cowers away when you actually need him. Toji knew he was a coward. He knew he could have done something earlier but he didn’t. 

Toji was convicted and placed on death row for the murder of Sukuna. The revenge plan you had set in motion had come to a head, you just had to do this one last job and then the life you planned with Suguru would be in the palm of your hand.

Toji’s son was your last target; you tracked him for weeks while you located the item in question: Toji’s unsealed will.

The will contains everything you would need. The numbers to multiple offshore accounts with millions of dollars. The deeds to houses spread throughout the world. Everything his kids would need beyond his lifeline.

Seventy seconds. In and out.

Suguru is outside waiting for you. Something you’re not used to. But the sense of security feels nice for once. Every job before this one you’d done alone. Having the man you’re willing to risk everything for waiting for you while you perform the most important job of your life has every nerve alight with anticipation, and also relief; Knowing he’d be there if something went wrong. Your heart could burst out of your chest in appreciation for him.

Satoru is down the street, handling the signal blocker for the alarm at the bank. Intercepting the signal is the easy part, but keeping it down for seventy seconds is the hard part. But Satoru isn't worried. 

The bank manager approaches you with keys in hand, “Safety deposit room, right?” the man timidly asks. His question throws you off momentarily. Your smug smile falls as he speaks.

“How’d you know that?” you ask, reaching for your gun.

“Stop, Ruby. We’re playing by my rules from now on.” Satoru’s voice startles you from behind. 

“Satoru, you’re making a huge mistake right now,” you warn, your hands remaining where he can see them.

“The only ones making mistakes are you and Geto.” 

“He’ll be in here once he realizes I’m taking too long. You know that as much as I do.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it,” he sneers, “Now, turn around and face me.” 

You hear the sound of his gun click, making you chuckle.

“I don’t need his help anyways,” you duck down and sweep your feet under his legs, catching him off guard and making him tumble backwards onto the floor. A big cracking sound fills the air as his head makes contact with the hard floor. “I can handle myself, you should have known that, Satoru.” 

The few onlookers in the bank unsure of what to do, the silent alarm still won’t trigger.

Satoru looks up at you from his spot on the floor, a ringing in his ears from how hard his head collided with the marble. “You won’t get away with this,” he pants out in pain, clutching the back of his skull. His gun. He needed his gun. Where? Where did it end up? His head just hurts and that’s all he can focus on. His GUN, whERE IS IT? Satoru, where is y–

“I already did,” and with that you leave him laying there, your gaze serving as a warning as you pull the bank manager in the direction of the safety deposit room. He opens exactly what you want; no questions asked.

Unfortunately, you decided no loose ends this time. The bank manager met his fate inside the safety deposit room. He begged, but only for a minute. This wasn’t like you. Look what love did to you. Love and betrayal. Everyone you had ever loved betrayed you. But not Suguru. 

Never Suguru.

Sounds of fighting pull your train of thought from the lifeless man in front of you. Making a swift exit with the paperwork tucked into your jacket, you head for the source of the sound. 

“What are you doing, Satoru? This isn’t what we agreed on,” Suguru groans from their wrestling spot on the floor. Arms are being pinned, yanked free and then pinned again. The men fight to get the upper hand.

“I told you that I took an oath to stand up to people like you and her. This isn't a game, Geto. Don't you see that?” 

Suguru stops for a moment, looking at his friend while he processes the words leaving his mouth.

“Sugu,” you call from your position, gun raised and pointed directly at the white haired man before you.

“Now, Ru!” he calls to you, turning Satoru’s upper body so his back faces you. There’s silence. So much silence that follows the shot. Suguru looks at his friend beneath him with tears in his eyes. The hurt and betrayal laced behind every feature. The life leaves Satoru’s eyes as the men lock their gazes. “I told you, you won’t take her from me.” 

He stands from his spot, walking over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking you over.

“Fine. You?” you rush out. He nods quickly. “We need to go, now,” you grab hold of one of his hands, pulling him towards the exit. 

“You know we’re about to be on the run for the rest of our lives together?”

“Are you complaining?” he asks from the driver's side, sunglasses pushed atop his head as he weaves his way through the mountainous roads.

“Of course not. Never when it's with you.”

“I love you, Ru.”

“I love you more, Sugu.”

♡ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl @phoenix-eclipses @nanasukii28 @mylifetold @bakuhoethotski @4y3sh4 @whereflowerswenttodie @drakenswifeyy

[chiriwritesstuff]

Hometown Glory; Frankie's E-Mails Pt.1

Series Masterlist │ Read Chapter 1 Here!

Email Summary: Frankie just wants to understand.

Rating: T

Word Count: 273

A/N: What if Frankie started to send e-mails to Glory during their time apart? Does she read them? Does she reply back?

To: HometownGlory@aol.com Fr: FMorales@aol.com Subject: Finally at Basic Got through my first week at basic. You were right, I am completely out of my depth out here, Glo. The food sucks, there's trees fucking everywhere, and the curfew? 9 pm lights out? Fuck. It's like I haven't left my old man's house. It fucking blows.   Anyway, how is it up there in New Haven? Did your body go into shock from the temperature change? Did you trade in your flannels for cable knit sweaters? Your cut-off jeans for vintage Levis? Did you finally try out a cappuccino like you said you would? Did it suck like I told you it would? I can just imagine your face, all scrunched up as the bitter taste hits your tongue... Fuck.   Is Yale everything that you imagined it to be? Fuck, I don't know what I'm doing here, Glo. I guess what I really want to say is... ... I miss you. I miss our Monday nights, our night drives, and Sunday night dinners at your Nana's. I miss your face, and your smile, and fuck... your laugh. I miss the sound of your laugh, the way your chest heaves, it's like you laugh with your entire body... the sound of it just floods my mind and I fucking cry thinking about it. I think about you a fucking lot, Glory, and I just... I don't fucking understand. Why didn't you show? why did you just leave? Didn't we promise that we would spend the summer together? Didn't we? Help me understand, please. I... I need it, okay? Please just give me something. Cuídate. Frankie

Series Taglist:

@ashleyfilm / @danaispunk / @imdrinkingpedro / @yxtkiwiyxt / @lilyevanstan1325

@kungfucapslock / @critfailroll / @maried01 / @misstokyo7love / @missladym1981

@angelofsmalldeath-codeine / @brittmb115 / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @darkheartgatita / @jupiter-soups

@anoverwhelmingdin

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

A picture-Perfect Hello.

Spencer Reid picture-perfect.

Spencer Reid had no idea when he came home from a long case that his new neighbor would be the love of his life. And together they would create the picture-perfect life.

A four-part series.

Warning Contains spoilers for Season 13 as well as Season 12. Post prison Spencer Reid.

Ages 18 and over. Contains oral sex. Penetrative sex. Reader on birth control pills.

Spencer came home from a long case. A six Day one to be exact. He was surprised to see a pile of boxes sitting in the hallway in front of an apartment building that he assumed was still to be empty when he came back home. It's not that he didn't want new neighbors. He just didn't expect there to be any, given that that apartment has been vacant for the past seven months.

he was So exhausted from the trip back home that he really just wanted to go to sleep. But he knows that that would be rude not to even try to offer Any help to his new neighbor. So he unlocked his door and put his satchel inside. Going over to the refrigerator to grab something to drink, leaving the front door open So he could see if the new neighbor passed by. After a few minutes, he decided to shut the front door and go stand out in the hall. He made it to the front of his sofa before he saw a pile of boxes walking by his door.

"Oh, here, let me help you" he said, running out of his door.

" Oh my gosh, thank you so much that this so kind of you." He heard a woman's voice coming from behind the pile of boxes.

" Sure, no problem. Let me just grab these" he said, pulling two boxes off the top of the pile.

Spencer couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the woman that was behind the box. a Brunette with Short hair. And blue eyes.

" Hello" he managed to get out. " My name is Spencer, Spencer Reid. I live in this apartment right here". He told her, using his thumb to point back at the door.

" Hello my name is y/n It's so nice to meet you. I didn't know if anybody lived in this apartment. I've been moving in for the past two days and I haven't seen you."

" I was at work. I.. I'm, I'm an FBI agent, so I wasn't home for six days."

" Ohh wow. An FBI agent? That must be really exciting."

" It can be. It has its moments that it's exciting. Yes, I, you know, I I definitely enjoy the work that I do, putting away the bad guys and all that. Definitely rewarding, yes. Kind of tiring though as well if I'm being honest. But still, it's.. it's really nice work." Spencer began to ramble.

" Would you like to come in and put those boxes down?"

" Boxes? Ohh yes yes. But I would love to put the boxes down" Spencer answered, not even realizing anymore that he was holding boxes.

" Just try to find a place to put them down at. I'm sorry I haven't really officially moved in yet. I'm staying with a friend of mine while I get everything out of my dirtbag ex boyfriend's apartment." She explained to Spencer she was waving her finger around the room with her other hand on her hip.

"Oh, sure, no problem. It it's going to take some time to move in. I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

" Oh, don't be. He was a lousy piece of crap that wasn't even any good in bed. I mean, it is seriously Exhausting having to fake orgasms all the time. It would have been nice if I could have had a real one during the two years we were together." She huffed out angrily.

Spencer's face must have lost all color or the opposite turned as red as a strawberry when she was saying this. As she stopped right in her tracks and they started apologizing.

" Oh my God, I am so sorry. I don't know why I said that. I mean, I just met you like what, 5 minutes ago if that. And here I am already talking like this. Please forgive me. I understand if you don't want to help me bring in any more boxes and if you want to pretend that I don't even live here, I completely understand. Have a tendency to over share my feelings when I'm angry and Needless to say, I'm angry."

" no need to apologize. I understand you being angry and you know, I hear a lot of stuff being an FBI agent. Plus I do have three women on our team, so, you know, I I hear things."

"Wow. Three women on your team. That's impressive. I just assumed that the FBI thought that that was men's work. You know? Good to see that we're making a little progress in the world."

" Ohh no. The FBI is full of women. You really have made a lot of progress in the work world. You know, it's been statistically proven that women are more effective at catching serial killers than men in some cases." He Explained to her.

" Really? well. I guess if you piss us off enough, we'll hunt you down."

" I guess you could say that, yes. Uh, there's three agents that I work with that are women. And then there's our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. She's wonderful as well."

" Well, that's good. Got to get rid of those bad guys, right? And bad ladies, I'm sure as well."

"Yep" He said, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels. Kind of uncomfortable now that the conversation has ended.

" So do you have more boxes you need me to help you bring in or?" He asked, waving his hands around nervously.

" Yes, I do. I have five more boxes out in the car."

" OK, well here let me help you with that."

"So does you being an agent mean that I'm not going to see you much? Because that would be really sad. I think you're really cute. And you obviously are smart."

"OH no. I'm home when I can be most of the time. And if I'm not home or out on a case, I spent a lot of time on a jet too. You know, going to the crime scenes. It's a lot easier for me when it's local because then I get to come back home. It gets a little tiring having to be in hotels all the time. Sometimes it's really nice to just come home to the comfort of your own apartment and bed, you know?"

"It is."

After Spencer helped her bring in the rest of her boxes, she went over to a box marked kitchen and pulled out a coffee pot.

" Would you like some coffee? I love coffee and I can't live without it." Asked, holding up her pink coffee maker.

" Really. I love coffee too. Yes, I.. I.. I would love some. My friends always put me down. Well, my my coworkers. But they're like my friends. Actually. They're like my family. They make fun of me sometimes for loving coffee so much."

" Why would they Make fun of you for that?. Oh well. Between you and me, we could probably empty out the entire state of coffee beans."

" Yeah, we probably could." He said with a big grin on his face.

" So how long have you lived here?" She asked him.

" 14 years."

"Wow, 14 years. That's amazing. Must be really nice here. Well, for the amount of time that you hear, I guess you couldn't really judge."

" Well, I've been here long enough, yeah, to know that. That's. It really is nice. Yeah, but you're right, the amount of time that I'm actually here for. Really can't judge, but sometimes I am here for a week at a time."

She walks into the kitchen and plugs in the coffee pot.

" I know exactly where my coffee beans are. They're in that box over there marked coffee."

" Spencer Looks over at the box. "Ohh here let me get it for you."

" Thank you. You're such a gentleman. I mean, not only helping me move in, but also helping me make coffee. You'll find mugs in that same box, by the way."

When Spencer opens the box, he sees 5 bags of coffee and seven mugs.

" Ohh wow my friend Penelope. She would love your mugs. She's the queen of coffee mugs. Although in her case sometimes it's also hot tea, so mugs in general."

" I think I'd really get along with this, Penelope."

" She is wonderful." Spencer tells her where the chuckle.

Spencer hands her a bag of coffee, a pack of coffee filters and two mugs. A pink mug with a rainbow on it and a black mug that says I love coffee.

" I think this will be my favorite mug" he told her, holding up the one that says I love coffee.

" Well then, we will make that your special mug for when you come over, and that is if you want to ever come back."

" I want to come back. I I look forward to it."

Spencer Reid being a man of science, never really believed in love at first sight. But there's something about her he feels that he could spend the rest of his life with, even though he's only known her for about an hour tops at this point.

"You know, if you come back tomorrow, I have been known to make some pretty good muffins. By then I should be able to find my baking stuff. But that is only if you would like to. I understand. If you don't want to, it's. Completely understandable."

" No, not at all. I would love to come over. Muffins sound really good. Muffins and coffee? That's. That's really good. Yeah." He said with a chuckle, so happy that she would like for him to come back.

" OK then uh 8:00 be OK?"

" That'd be great. I don't start teaching until 10:00, so. 8:00 would be good."

" I thought you were an FBI agent".

"Ohh. Well, yeah, I ...I am. I am an FBI agent. But I also teach sometimes because I'm not Fully on the team at the moment, but that's a that's a long story for. Another time so". Spencer said nervously. What was she going to think if she asked him why he wasn't on the team full time? What if she doesn't like that he was in prison even though he didn't really commit the crime he was arrested for?

" OK, well, another time it is."

" So I can be here at 8:00." Spencer asked, wringing his hands.

" Unless 7:30 would be better for you."

" 7:30 would be great. That would be great. That would give me half hour more to be able to get ready to go and teach my class."

" OK, 7:30 it is. I should already be started by the muffins, by then"

" Great" Spencer said.

" Do you take your coffee?"

"Black with sugar." Spencer answered, placing the two Mugs next to the coffee maker that was just about done.

" Black with sugar, You got it."

There was a little bit of awkward silence as the coffee finished brewing. Before y/n Poured 2 mugs of it, adding the sugar into both mugs and going over to the refrigerator to get some Creamer.

" I know it's strange. I already have Creamer in my refrigerator, but says I said I've been moving in for a few days, so I don't really know why I have Creamer in my refrigerator. Didn't even have my coffee maker yet, but I'm a weird one. "

" Not at all. " Spencer said.

After the coffees had been made, the two of them sat down at her little kitchen table.

" You know, this table was actually left behind from the previous renter. I don't know why, but hey, I was happy to have it. " y/n said.

" Yes, well left behind furniture is always good. Unfortunately, nothing came with my apartment. "

" Wow. Usually somebody leaves something behind. " she says taking a sip of coffee.

" So can I ask what you do? Or do you not have a job yet in between jobs?"

" Ohh yes, I'm a Blogger."

" Spencer said, not really knowing what that was.

"Do you know what that is?" She asked him. Putting down her mug.

"No, not really. I'm sorry."

"No problem. I have a blog. It's a computer thing. It's on the Internet. It's a page Where I show you how to do things like highlight your hair and things I used to do. I also show a lot of cooking things, like how to make the muffins I'm going to make tomorrow, along with other things that I make."

" Oh, so you teach people how to do things via the Internet?"

" Yes, exactly."

" Ohh like life's important things like faking orgasms." He said with a chuckle as he took his first sip of coffee.

y/n Almost spit her coffee out at his response.

" Yes, exactly. I I really did do one of those. It was my most popular video to date, actually." She told him, laughing.

" Well, at least you're helping people with the important things in the world. Ohh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I really need to be getting to work. Umm, so I can come back tomorrow, right?"

"Absolutely. I look forward to it."

After Spencer went to teach another class, knowing that people really weren't going to be paying him any attention anyway. He was just kind of going through the motions. His mind, even though he was trying to teach about serial killers, just kept going back to His beautiful new neighbor and how he couldn't wait to get back to her apartment tomorrow.

Once class was over and he stopped at the grocery store to pick up something for him to eat for dinner. He went back home. He was so tempted to knock on his neighbor's door to see how she was doing. Or really just to see her face again. To ask her if she would like to come over and share his dinner, but he didn't want to be too forward, she said. I'll see you tomorrow morning, so tomorrow morning it would be.

He ate his dinner, took his shower, got in his pajamas, brushed his teeth and went to bed. Unfortunately though, for Spencer, sleep did not come easily to him. He just kept thinking about the beautiful woman next door. But was she doing? Was she sleeping? Was she lying awake, thinking about him, The way he was laying awake? Thinking about her?

He really needs to stop these Thoughts that are running through his head and try to get some sleep morning would come soon enough and he would be at her front door again, tapping on the wood, waiting to get inside.

Eventually, morning came and he did just the thing that he said he was going to do, ran out his front door before smoothening out any wrinkles that may be on his sweater. Before knocking lightly on her wooden front door.

" I'm coming, he heard being shouted from The other side of the door. He waited for a few seconds before he heard the deadbolt on lock the door opening, revealing the woman that he's awaiting all night to see. Wearing a light pink tank top and a purple apron. That had some baking flour stuck to it.

In all honesty, she was so beautiful and the fact that she was making muffins for him, it took all he had not to drop to one knee right now and ask her to marry him. It wasn't just because she would serve him muffins. It was because no one was willing to make anything like this for Spencer and his entire life. And even though he had only met this woman one day prior, he knew he was in love with her. He knew that this was the woman that he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

" Hi, come on in. I'm so sorry I had to run to the store. So I'm a little bit later making the muffins and I thought I was going to be. I didn't have any flower. I forgot that I threw it at my ex when he told me that he didn't need my cooking anymore. It was juvenile, I know. But it was in the heat of the moment. So I just threw it at him."

" Oh, wow. OK, no problem. Take your time. If if you don't have the time to make the muffins right now, it's OK. I can come back tomorrow."

" Ohh no no, she cut him off. I have the flour, I'm just measuring it out now."

"OK, sure, can I help you make the muffins? I've never really baked anything before."

" Really. You would like to help me make muffins? OH my gosh yes. Thank you so much. I would love for you to do that. You know my boyfriend Will, my ex sorry-ass boyfriend never would have offered to help cook with me. He thought that cooking and baking was stupid and that it was just. Useless hobby."

" Well, that's not nice. Baking is a wonderful hobby. Cooking. We all need to eat to survive, right? So he didn't have any right to pick on you for that. I'm so sorry that he was like that to you. I promise I will never be that way to you. I mean, not that we're a couple. You know, I'm not presuming that you would want to be in a relationship with me. I'm just saying if it should ever come to that, I wouldn't be that kind of boyfriend. I'd be loving and supportive and help you with anything that you wanted." He began rambling.

" That would be wonderful, you know, if we ended up being together and cooked together, married one day. Just think. We would tell our children how we met and they would think it was so sweet."

Now Spencer's mind was really racing again. She's considering a life with him. She's actually thinking about a life with him and having children with him and telling them about how they met one day.

" Spencer?" He heard her saying.

"yes?" he answered.

" Would you like to come into the kitchen and help me?"

"Oh, Oh my gosh. Yes, yes, I would love to. OK, umm, So what do you need me to do?"

" Well, unfortunately I don't have a spare apron. And if you're planning on wearing this Sweater. You may not want to mess with the flour, but you can wash off the blueberries for me.

"Oh yes, of course." Spencer said, opening up the pints of blueberries and pouring them into a pink strainer to wash them off.

" I'm so sorry that you have to wait longer for the muffins because I forgot to get flour.

" It's OK. I'm actually happy that it happened because now I get to be a part of the muffin making process." Her as he finished straining the rest of the water off of the blueberries.

" That's so sweet, you can take and dump them into the bowl right there with the sugar."

The two of them stood side-by-side preparing muffin batter.

Before placing the batter into baking cups and putting them in the oven. y/n Pouring some coffee for them while they wait.

" So how did you sleep last night?" She asked, putting the two mugs of coffee down.

How did I sleep? OH my gosh how can I tell her that I couldn't sleep? Because all I could think about was her. How much I wanted to come back over here and see her. How I know she's the love of my life. How can I tell her that without her thinking that I'm crazy? Spencer thought to himself.

" I slept rather well, thank you." He told her he feels so bad about lying to her, but how can he tell her about his true feelings without scaring her away?

Once the muffins were done and they started eating them, it was the most delicious blueberry muffin Spencer had ever had.

" These are incredible" he told her before stuffing and other piece into his mouth.

" Thank you so much. I'm so glad that you like them. You know, I also make coffee cakes and strudels and stuff like that, so, you know, I could keep feeding you if you're interested."

If Spencer could have his way, he would make breakfast with her every day for the rest of his life.

" I would like that. he told her with a smile.

The next two weeks went on like this, meeting every day. Went to teach, unfortunately his teacher. Come to an end and he was forced to go back to the station.

" I'm back on FBI time now, so I may be gone for a little while. I'll let you know if I have a case. That way you don't start making something for me and I'm not here to get it." Told her, looking down at his thumbs that he was twiddling.

" OK, well, I'm going to miss you if you have a case, but I have a lot of muffins leftover. Would your team like some?" She asked him.

" I I think they would, yes, they're amazing. And if they don't want them, well, I'll gladly eat them."

" OK, great. I'll pack some up for you."

Spencer reluctantly left her apartment to go to the station, carrying with him a large basket of blueberry muffins. They placed them on the table of the round table room.

Luke came into the room and saw the basket of muffins along with Spencer sitting in his usual chair.

" Hey, welcome back Reid" Luke said to him.

" Hey, Luke. Thanks. It's nice to be back."

" Muffins. Are those for anybody or are they just for you?" Luke asked.

" There For anyone. My new neighbor Likes to bake, so she sent me to work with some muffins for you guys."

" She Ohh. I'm I'm not prying just is she someone that You might be interested in. I'm. I'm not meaning to pry. I just. I worry about you. You know, you go back to your apartment all by yourself and you don't really get any visitors. It would just be nice for you to have someone."

" I really like her, Luke. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to tell her. You know, I know that I'm the age that I am, but I don't have much experience with women. The only girlfriend long term that I really had got murdered in front of me. So I don't know how to talk to women." Spencer said sadly.

" Well reid. I can honestly tell you if a woman is willing to make you muffin's. And allow you into her apartment, I'm assuming."

" She did. I helped her move in."

" Then yes, she likes you." Luke told him before taking a bite of muffin.

" Really?" Spencer asked.

" Yes, really. And if she makes muffins like this my God man, go back home now and ask her to marry you. These are delicious."

Unfortunately for Spencer, he was going to have to wait to see his ladylove again. he had to go away on a case. The next three months' time continued to go this way. He would be home for a day or two enjoying the baked Goods with Her before having to go away on another case. They really didn't get to spend much time together anymore. They were both afraid that the feelings that they had for each other would fizzle away. But maybe, just maybe, people were right. Time apart does make the heart grow fonder. It left them both wondering though. Feel this way about each other. They're just neighbors, and they've never even kissed. Just enjoying talking about things over coffee and baked goods that Spencer often helped make. He really enjoyed the baking process and the fact that it gave him more time to spend with y/n but all of that changed quickly after Spencer finally had some time off since he was teaching again. So she invited him to come over and watch a movie. That was for the best, considering that Spencer really didn't have any movies that weren't foreign films.

"She picked (your favorite movie) To watch She Thought that Spencer would really enjoy it.

" I can't believe you've never seen this movie. I've seen it about 1000 times and can say just about every line with it". She told him.

" Well, I haven't seen very many movies that aren't in foreign languages, so this will be a fun to experience for me."

That night was a turning point in their relationship. As they sat on the sofa together, they realized neither one of them was really interested in the movie. They were more interested in each other. They've been away from each other for too long, and tonight was the night they were finally going to kiss.

However, Spencer Reid being amazing at everything was also in the world's greatest kisser. We've got turned on so much by the kissing that it wasn't long before Spencer was asking against her lips. "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

y/n Moaned a Yes, against his lips.

If Spencer picked her up off the couch and carried her into her bedroom, he knew exactly where it was. Not because he's been to her apartment so many times, but because the layout of her apartment was exactly the same as his own. Before he knew it, he was peeling off her clothes and kissing her passionately.

Shouldn't she was doing the same to him with the same urgency.

However, before Spencer removed her underwear. He asked if it was OK for him to do so.

y/n Couldn't get the word "yes" out fast enough. As soon as she was bare to him, he looked up into her eyes to make sure that She was OK with what he was about to do.

She panted out a yes before he licked right up her center. Causing her to moan out his name. Something that, if he was being honest with himself, was something that he was dying to hear over the past 3 1/2 months.

He took his time with her, loving the way that her fingers felt running through his hair. After he gave her two mind-blowing orgasms, he couldn't wait anymore. He needed to be inside of her. 

"Do you have any protection?" He asked her, praying to the gods, anyone of them that she would have something. 

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean". She panted out

 the smile on his face, almost taking up his entire face at this point. 

"Good" he panted out. Before slowly pushing inside of her. They both moaned out at the feeling. Something that they were both longing for, for so long. As he slowly moved inside of her, his fingers intertwining with hers.

The only sounds in the apartment at this point was the sounds of their moans and lips smacking.

" Where do you want me?" Spencer asked y/n Feeling that he was close told him.

" Inside, inside Spencer, I want to feel all of you."

And be more thrilled at these words. They both orgasm together and it was like pure heaven.

Spencer helped her ride out her high, and as he did, he couldn't help but stare into her eyes, seeing how beautiful she is.

Spencer eventually had to pull out. So sad for both of them since they both waited for so long. Both of them hoping that it would happen again.

They laid in her bed. Spencer's arms, holding her tightly to his body.

" Are you sorry that it happened?" Spencer asked sadly. As y/n Hasn't said anything since they orgasmed.

" No, not at all. Are you?" She asked with full of worry.

" No, absolutely not. I was worried that you were going to be sorry. I mean, it's been silence for a little bit." Spencer said with a gulp.

" No, I'm so happy that it happened. I waited for so long, you know, Honestly, I wanted you from the very first time I saw you, but I didn't want you to think that I was Trashy." She told him, running her hand up and down his bare chest.

" I would never think that, and honestly, I was the same way about you." Spencer told her with a smile.

"Who would have ever thought that me walking by with a stack of boxes would have led to this? that just a simple hello would have led to where we are today."

" I know. I guess you could say it was a picture-Perfect Hello." Spencer said before kissing her again.

Thank you so much for reading. Comments will be greatly appreciated and I look forward to writing the rest of this story. there should be another chapter out by the summer.

@thebloomingeagle

[wrensartstuffs]

It's Soap Saturday so I bring you a(fairly scattered) Soap analysis

"Oh she only has OCD and no more she's written badly" I HAVE OCD AND WHILE THAT DEPICTION WAS EXTREMELY DAMAGING AND COULD'VE BEEN DONE BETTER, IT'S UNFORTUNATELY ACCURATE FOR SOME PEOPLE(it's me I'm some people). SHE OBSESSES OVER EVERYTHING AND BEING A SOAP BOTTLE PROBABLY DOESN'T HELP SINCE OBJECTS ARE EXPECTED TO ACT ACCORDING TO THEIR OBJECTS

She can't HELP IT!!! SHE TRIES TO GET BETTER BUT LETTING GO OF YOUR HABITS IS DIFFICULT ON YOUR OWN AND AGAIN, AS A BOTTLE OF SOAP, SHE PROBABLY FEELS MORE SOCIETAL PRESSURE TO BE GOOD AT CLEANING!!!! SHE FIXATES ON EVERYTHING BECAUSE IT'S ALL SHE FEELS LIKE SHE CAN DO TO HAVE ANY CONTROL OVER THE SITUATIONS SHES IN!!! Besides cleaning, she has ONE coping mechanism, and it's one that everyone else HATES(singing). So no WONDER she ends up just cleaning. For hours. And hours. And hours. To the point where it's irrational

ALSO THAT'S ANOTHER THING!! Having control over situations is very big for me, and fixating is one of those things that helps. For Soap, being in a clean space and cleaning the hotel helps her feel like she can actually be calm and helps control her emotions, because without her cleaning? The hotel would be in shambles! If SHE wasn't helping, then everything would fall apart!! Sure, this isn't reality, but for her? Someone who has tried again and again to make things better but just making them worse BECAUSE of her impulses? She needs to feel like she's doing SOMETHING or else she's nobody. Just another stereotype ignored by the narrative

It's not HER FAULT that she has OCD and it's not HER FAULT that societal pressures force her to be who she is. Besides, after Tissues got eliminated, she could've thought that SHE had a higher winning chance because he got eliminated for his trait being. Well. Sick. So, as the opposite, the fans should love her!! Right? So, she goes further, she puts soap on the pizza, she has a musical number while fixing the hotel, she does all of these things to not only give herself a sense of stability, but also to hopefully boost her appreciation from the audience

And it didn't work

The moment she STOPPED cleaning, it didn't work. She told Mic to listen to her heart when walking through the portal, but if we're being honest(and if we see the comics), she went right back to cleaning. The moment she tried to be less impulsive, she was eliminated. And there goes her control once again

As of now she's likely right back in that loop, cleaning endlessly despite being asked not to as it isn't needed, but she won't, because if she's not CLEANING, then she doesn't have a purpose. She can't just pick up a new hobby, this is her LIFE, and if she can't sing, then she only has one option left

Or maybe I'm just reading too much into a one note character, who knows

Happy Soap Saturday

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone! This is my first 911 ficrec post (I'm usually over here if ill-fated hunters and their angel husbands are your jam) but I've been DEEP in the Evan Buckley hyperfixation throughout April so come with me for what I've been reading!

This is a combination of Buddie and Bucktommy and buckeddietommy (aka buckeddie and meatballs, heh!)

26 April 2024

tell me about despair by @hattalove was the first fic I read, specifically because I wanted to get inside Eddie's head more as on first viewing I found him a little trickier to grasp...but yeah...that might just be because I am he and he am I. This fic was an wonderful way in to understanding his inner workings. His queer awakening and the associated traumas he has to work through were handled with such care, and the character voices were just gorgeous. "Eddie's not entirely sure he believes in getting help, at least not for himself. There's only so much healing to be had for a body torn apart by bullets, for a mind that's only half there, for a man who's been leaving pieces of himself behind all his life with nothing to take their place. Except, as it turns out, falling apart happens in increments, and healing does, too"

evan, elated and euphoric by @gayhoediaz 16500 words of bucktommy first time smut anyone?? "Buck likes it - not just being with Tommy, being with a man - that part is obvious, but he… likes that he likes it. He loves that he likes it. Truthfully, he doesn’t think that he has ever felt more at home in his own body than he does in this very moment." This is such a delightful exploration (through copious amounts of sizzling sex) in Buck feeling fully present and fully himself in his sexuality, and it's gloriously decadent as well as sweet and sexy as hell. I loved this characterisation of Tommy.

Both Bermuda and Golden (Lost but Doing Just Fine) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels all hail the threesome fics! In which the correct answer is always - Both? Both is good! This one is gloriously kinky and sexy and I love the 'guiding hand' aspect and how both Buck and Eddie allow themselves to be led. "It's not that Buck's not happy with Eddie. It's just that being with Tommy taught him things about himself, things he wants, and he doesn't quite know how to ask Eddie for those things. He shouldn't have underestimated how well Eddie knows him, or how willing Tommy is to lend a helping, instructional hand."

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by @elvensorceress is a gorgeously written allegorical tale with PEAK Buddie and Christopher family vibes set between S4&5. "In the aftermath of the sniper attack, Buck has to keep going without his partner while sorting through the layers of everything they are to each other, while Eddie fights for his life and through all his internalized trauma and regret for everything they never managed to say. aka After nearly losing each other, Buck and Eddie find their way to each other and their family’s happily ever after." My absolute favourite thing about this fic is the thread with the bedtime story that Christopher and Buck have created together. Just beautiful.

five ways to fall in love with the man in the mirror by @buckttommy is a bucktommy fic but crucially a Buck absolutely revelling in the poetry of getting to know your own identity. It also crucially gives me Jay Hulme vibes (iykyk) "Buck meets God at a gay club. He finds him in an oil-slick puddle on a damp night, neon lights reflecting off the kaleidoscopic liquid in the parking lot. or; Evan Buckley falls in love with himself."

and i know how i feel by @middyblue is a very sweet Buck coming out to Bobby fic, written I believe between 7x04 and 7x05. ALL the Dad!Bobby feels. "Buck stares off over the hills of Los Angeles, hugging his knees. He half wants to take out his phone and start playing Nine Simone (it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me, and I’m feeling - ) and half can’t bear to drown out the thin peace of bird calls in the quiet blue of the morning. Footsteps scrape on gravel behind him and he turns, half-expecting another hiker, but it’s Bobby, carrying a coffee tray with two to-go cups and a paper bag."

Short and sweet fic:

For All Occasions by @storybelle FIREFAM FEELS! In which of course, as per tradition, Hen makes the 118 a cake. I neeeeeed Hen and Buck queer camaraderie show, I need it, and just like this!

Wedding Bell Blues by @klutzygirl - much needed supportive parents actually fic! "Margaret and Phillip meet their son's new boyfriend when they arrive in town for Maddie's wedding." it doesn't go how Buck would expect, in the best way.

PS - if you have any henren authors/fic recs I should check out PLEASE let me know! I'm new and I love them!

[vivian-pascal]

I Don't Love You Anymore

joel x f!reader

summary: Joel had been with you for a while, you both had a nice house in New York City, he'd seen the way you'd look at him and he just knew that if he stayed for too long, you'd never find your true love. He knows he's way too old for you and you need a younger man, much younger. So he does something that will tear both you and him apart. Forever.

warnings: angst, crying, pushing and shoving, mention of what reader wears, reader slams her fists and they bleed.

authors note: i've been feeling really down in the dumps lately. I just feel like my life is slowly spiraling downhill. so I thought i'd write some lovely angst to pour my heart and soul out too!

Joel parks his truck on the driveway. Staying inside the car, thinking. Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. He doesn't want to do this, god, he never ever thought he'd have to do this. Especially with you.

When you both met, you were in the airport and he had just gotten off his flight from Texas. He was heading to New York for a vacation. To get away from the suburbs and get into some classy skyscrapers.

You were walking with your phone in your hand and your headphones in. You didn't bother to look up and the next thing you know, you run into a person. Taking your headphones off, you look up to see a man.

He has salt and peppered hair, small gruff forming on his chin. You run your eyes down his entire body and instantly fall in love.

When he first saw you, he fell hard. Your small little body and the way you looked at him the day you met. He just couldn't stay away from you. He wanted to be with you every second, every hour, every day. He loved you with all his heart. You meant everything to him.

He reminisces on the days you two cuddled in bed together, laughing at each other's jokes. He chuckles to himself as he remembers you with whipped cream all over your face because he had dumped your head in cake since it was your birthday.

He turns the key in the ignition and opens the car door. Closing it, he rests his head on the window and breathes in one more time. He stands up and begins to walk to your door. He lifts his hand up and rests it on the door.

He knocks once. Patiently waiting for your sweet smile and that soft smell of your perfume. He sees the door open and there you are. His lovely girl. Standing there in a gorgeous flower dress, your hair is in a braid with little bows in the back. You smile up at him and he breathes in the smell of you for the last time.

He smiles shyly and you welcome him into your home. "Hey baby, what ya here for?" You twirl towards him and grab his hands. He pulls one back and rubs the back of his neck.

"Uh darlin', we need to talk." His face instantly twists as the small hint of fear crosses your face. "Oh." You gulp deeply as you let go of his hand. "Okay."

He walks into the living room and sits down on the lounge chair as you sit across from him on the couch. You look down at the floor and play with your hands. Waiting for him to say something.

He clears his throat and begins to speak. "I'm leaving. Tonight." Your face shoots up as your eyes instantly water. "What? When? What time? Why didn't you tell me earlier Joel? Where are you going?" His eyes become teary as he sees your panicked state. He never wanted to do this. Why is he doing this?

He closes his eyes and tries to blink away the tears. "I'm uh, heading back to Texas." You stand up and your eyes go back and forth between his face. "Joel what!? Why? I-I thought you liked it here. We have a house and-" He shushes you as he stands up and grabs your hands.

He stares down at your blood shot eyes looking into his. You look up at him mouth agape. "Are you breaking up with me?" It physically hurts him to hear the words. He closes his eyes and looks down. You remove your hands from his and look at him angrily.

"Is this what this is Joel? Your plan on breaking up with me!" He opens his eyes and sees your angry, teary, messy face. Your mascara running down your face and smudging the collar of your dress.

"Now, darlin', I-" "Don't you fucking call me that Joel." You scream at him and his face goes pale. He's never heard you yell like that before. It's like a dagger piercing through his heart over and over again.

You walk up to him and point your finger at his chest. "So all those memories we made meant nothing to you? Am I nothing to you Joel." He shakes his head and tries to back away. "No, you mean everythin to me. I don't know what I'd do if I never met you." You stand up straight and begin to chuckle.

"So if you loved me that much than why the fuck are you leaving me!" You push him and he hits the wall. Hard. Tears start falling from his eyes as he sees his girl a mess. You both just look at each other as you both cry.

He removes himself from the wall and slowly starts to walk towards you. "Don't you dare take another fucking move Joel. I swear to god." He stops in his tracks and stands a few feet away. "You don't deserve me. M'too old f'ya and I can barely do nothin'. M'not as excitin as I used to be when I was younger. You deserve someone who can take care of ya and be there f'ya when you get older." His southern drawl coming out stronger than ever as he cries.

You stare at him in distraught as he rubs his stray tears away. "Don't deserve you? Joel we've been together for two fucking years. If I didn't 'deserve' you, I would've left already." You walk towards him and grab his hands. You looks you in the eyes and shakes his head. He removes his hands and begins to walk to the door.

"Joel, where are you going? You can't just leave!" You run after him and grab onto his shirt. More tears fall from his face as he sees your tiny body trying to get him back. He opens the door and stops to look at you. "I'm sorry." He shuts the door but you immediately open it.

"Joel come back!" You run in the rain. Following him to his truck as he gets in it. You bang on the window as he backs off the driveway and leaves. You fall to your knees and scream and cry until your heart can't take it anymore. Soaking in the blankness of which was once full. You slam your fists onto the pavement of the driveway.

You pick them up to see that they're bleeding but you don't care. Nothing in your mind is making sense. 'Why'd he leave?.' 'Did he even love me?' 'Was this all a lie?'

You scream into the air and cry out. As Joel leaves, he can hear your horrid cries and bangs his hand on the window. Tears fall from his face as he sees your small body becoming a tiny speck. Nothing seems to matter anymore for him, or for you, because it seems as tho he never loved you.

tags!

@morallyinept @mermaidgirl30 @rav3n-pascal22 @mountainsandmayhem @amyispxnk @pinkcrystal44 @guelyury @iamsherloocked @itsokbbygrl @heartpascalispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @brittmb115 @kotourasan123 @simplewanderer @tupelomiss @heartramen @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts @yorksgirl

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c7. Beware of the dog.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, EDs and death.

song to listen to when reading this: Dark red, Steve Lacy.

abstract: Simon. I don't fucking know what to say about this chapter, I was moving in autopilot. and I'm just being a decent fucking human being, what do you expect me to say really? just start reading already.

She took a look around. The men in the room were looking at her like she was gonna spontaneously combust and explode. Some of them had their lips pressed in a thin line. I'm sorry Jude, this is the part fo the movie where you die! Simon on her right was frowning, his eyebrows slightly peering through his mask. She started imagining if she just left right now. Took her dog, got to the airport and moved to Spain. The Maldives, maybe. She started a new life as a new person once at 18, she could do it again now seven years later. Or maybe she just needed to go home, smoke every little bit of weed she had left, curl up in bed and die. She started laughing. She had always thought her laugh was the most awful sound in the word. She started laughing, she looked psychotic. She hid her smile with her right hand through her head back. Her voice was the only sound in the room, ripping apart the air. It was a terrifying sight. Fuck me sideways. How could she be so stupid to get back to that job in the first place, after what happened in 2021. 'Oh God…' she sighed when she regained a little bit of control over her laughter which still lingered in the air like a distorted melody. She was still smiling. The first time he saw her smile, laugh even. It sounded real, she sounded genuinely delighted.

Simon decided he wanted nothing to do with her right in that moment. She scared him to death, who knew a woman could be this attractive and scary at the same time. Price seemed to think showing her the calendar wasn't a good idea after all and quickly took the piece of paper and pushed it to the side. 'Look Jude, we're gonna escort you home, it's gonna be fine, we're going to continue to look for him until we have to leave.' He was trying to calm her down and, frankly, she looked perfectly fine. She looked like she was at a dinner party with her favourite friends, a glass of Champaign in her hand, her eyes shining with little tears of joy from laughing too much. Except, she laughed because she was scared. 'I've seen this film before, captain', she said, her words sounded venomous. Her eyes were dark, filled with sorrow and regret. Something like this happened before, and the captain knew.

'No, I'm telling you, it will be fine.' Price was trying to convince her. 'Gentlemen, we have an early flight tomorrow, we're going to keep looking for Arash until we find something and we'll brief again at nine, tonight. If they know we're coming, things might get ugly.' Jude was no where to be found. Well, she was still in the room, but her smile left space to an expression of defeat, like she had accepted her fate. Her eyes didn't look as bright, she kept wiping the palm of her hands on her thighs. Simon had noticed. His eyes locked with the captain's and they understood each other. Take her away, this was the sign. He quickly turned towards her, slouching downwards to speak closer to her. 'Let's go Jude', he instructed. She didn't look up at him, keeping her eyes low, but made her way to the door. He was walking beside her matching her speed. 'Take your car, I'll follow you' he said, and she still didn't answer.

'Jude' he called and finally she looked at him 'What!?' She raised her voice. She was mad again. Like the first time he saw her, fists curled with rage, on the verge of tears. He tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could. 'It's alright, everything's going to be fine', he tried to talk to her like he would do in an hostage rescue situation. 'I'll get you home. I know how to do my job', he reassured. He thought knowing he knew what to do might make her feel better. She nodded and quickly walked to her car. He followed her car all the way to the city, trying not to lose her in traffic. She parked in a busy residential street and he quickly followed. When she got out she looked for him, and waited for him to get out of the truck. She trusted him. Not because he was someone special, but from what she'd gathered he was someone Price trusted, he was probably good at his job. And he seemed kind.

'This way' she said, making her way to her apartment. She gave him her keys, he made his way to the door and got his gun out of the holster. He then noticed the little sign on the side of the door. 'Beware of the dog'. 'You scared of dogs?' she asked quietly, appearing on his side like the angel on his shoulder. Under his shoulder, let's say. Now, was he afraid of dogs, no. Did he have the best relationship ever with animals? Focus, you have a job to do, kill the dragon, save the princess. 'Stay back'. He opened the door and peered through with his gun drawn. The only sound that came from inside was a loud bark and paws on the floor. The puppy greeted him by sniffing his feet, his tail was wiggling. Not much of a guard dog, was it a German Shepard? The lights were out in the apartment, Jude made her way inside and flicked them on. She looked around and everything seemed as she left it. 'Ciao, si ciao' she spoke to the dog, who was clearly excited to see her, whining and stomping his paws. Simon tried to remember the words she said, so he could guess her native language. Spanish?

He looked around her living room and kitchen. Her house resembled her personality. There were books scattered on the coffee table, at least 5 of them, an empty mug as well. Books and papers on the sofa as well, maybe she was studying something? Black big reading glasses, with huge lenses. There were posters on the walls, art he didn't recognise. Nothing much on the shelves, minimal decor. A tall lamp in the corner of the room. He noticed a polaroid picture with someone with short hair. So you do have a boyfriend… Her kitchen was clean. It was a nice kitchen, she didn't have a table but two stools under a kitchen isle which probably served as a counter too. It was connected to the wall. Again, folders and scattered papers, maybe work. The dog bed on the floor. A lot of plants, he didn't think they were fake. An ashtray next to the window. Smoker? 'Can I check the other rooms?' he asked. To be respectful, you know. She nodded and he made his way to her bedroom. The door was closed. He glanced around the room, he checked the toilet as well. The bed wasn't made. She had light blue bedding. The room smelled like her, like lavender. She had a stuffed animal on the bed, a sheep. She had fuzzy slippers, probably a size 5. On the wall, more posters. He noticed a painting of a scary dog's fangs. Books on the nightstand, books on the wooden window sill. He saw a bra hanging from a chair and that was his cue to leave. In the toilet, one single toothbrush. So… no boyfriend?

'All clear'. She was standing beside the door, her dog at her feet was licking her hand while she petted him lazily. 'Thanks' she offered him a smile, a tiny one. She looked more relaxed. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds. Until he couldn't hold it in any longer. 'What happened last year?' He saw her expression darken, her shoulders tense. Who do you think you are to ask like that? She straightened her back and let go of the dog. He remained at her feet, wanting attention. 'You should learn to mind your business.' She made her way to the kitchen. She passed by him and didn't make eye contact. 'You should have some respect when you talk to people’ he answered. He didn't have time for this. He was fucking stupid to think he could speak with her, actually acting like a 10 year old. The dog came closer to him and sniffed his shoes. 'You know where the door is.' She turned around and faced the sink. He could feel a switch in her voice, in her attitude. It was Jude and then Her, her real self, whoever she was. It was two different people. The girl saw kindly smiling at Gaz in the car wasn't the same girl that barged in their briefing room demanding they listen to her. Or maybe it was, maybe that was Jude, and the scared, damaged little thing that he took home a year prior was Her. He didn't know who. Jude was Ghost and She was Simon. Something very bad had happened back then. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, he wasn't meant to know, no matter how much he tried. She raised a wall in between them. She made the weather right outside the apartment turn to when it's about to rain. Thunderstorms and lighting kind of rain. And it was probably better this way. He turned around without saying a word, only careful not to let the dog out.

She started breathing again when he left. Her mouth was dry, she was sweating. She called the dog and gave him food. She lit a cigarette and sat by the window. She called in the dance school, saying she had a fever. This way, she could stay inside all weekend. It took her forty minuted to stop shaking. Images from that day replayed in her mind at least once every three days now. She had gotten better, but that thingh wasn't really something you recover from. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night sweating and crying, feeling the blade of the knife on her skin. She had dreams she had died. She wished she never woke up for a long time. She had dreams about the way he touched her. The first five months after it happened she would bite her nails till the cuticles bled and not shower for days. Her own hands on her skin felt like his. The first time she talked to another human being was when she visited Salvo in San Francisco. She looked like a corpse. He was speechless and hated her for letting herself go like this. It wasn't just the eating and over exercise, which he knew were her preferred coping mechanisms. She had lost interest in living, in speaking, in watching movies, reading. Her career… He held her every night, they slept intertwined in his room, he was the first man that actually showed her respect. He was the first man she touched after that day, she hugged him and rested her head on his chest while he reminded her she was loved, she was important to him, she was alive. He would caress her hair when she woke up sweating and was patient with her when she wouldn't eat. This time was different, she was going to be fine. Even if Salvo wasn't there. Arash would not find her, the memories from last year would leave her alone. She would make it once again.

notes. translation: 'Ciao, si, ciao.' means 'hi, yes, hi.'

notes: Salvatore, i want a friend like you, KING. I am back, I'm sorry for the delay I got surgery done to my teeth??? Anyways, enjoy!!!

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Are you still active on tumblr?

YES I am!! Sorry friends for dropping off the face of the earth, I got a job and I had to move and it was a lot. But I am less stressed now and I hope I can get back to posting more regularly!! I really missed it (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

I will never leave tumblr because there is no other place on the internet where I can tell people that 80% of the time when I try to introduce myself to someone in the office that I haven’t met yet I get so focused on smiling and holding eye contact that I forget the part where I actually have to introduce myself (°□°)

[myenterpriseisparked]

Okay I understand where people are coming from with the "emotional suppression in Vulcans is learned not genetic" talk re: "Charades" but, consider......... the emotional suppression is muscle memory, and the aliens took away the mental muscles that remembered how to do it. It's a crude metaphor on my part, but that was the way I saw it.

Also consider: it's a sci fi show using extremely high-concept bullcrap science on a weekly basis and maybe nitpicking it is a fruitless endeavor because none of it is going to make sense otherwise and enjoying the ride for what it is is a much more enjoyable way to engage with this franchise. Sometimes you need to shrug and let dumb things happen and laugh.