#he is making EXPRESSIONS and responding to things

[iid-smile]

megumi always comes to your dorm room after a mission. nowadays, you don't even flinch when you hear your door open, accompanied by an irritated sigh or just... silence. however, a sound you're not used to is a pitter patter of liquid dropping onto your wooden floors.

with a glance up from your phone, the sight of a very much soaked, grumpy megumi is visible to you. his hair is completely drenched and flat, except from the odd strand here and there. "why are you wet?" you ask quietly.

"rain."

as soon as he responds, you're up on your feet, approaching him. "you're dripping, baby..." you coo, subconsciously coddling him as you already make a start on drying him up with a nearby towel. "where's your umbrella?"

if it were any other person, he would've squinted away already, but something about you is just different. in a good way, of course. really, he could get lost in your eyes any day. "forgot it here." he lowly mutters through clenched teeth. he's trying not to show how much the rain affected him.

and then it clicks. the black umbrella that's been beside the door the entire day.

immediately, your lips form into a pout. "my baby..." though your gaze is fixed on his face, his cheeks, nose and ears flushed a bright red, your hands were busying themselves, constantly patting and rubbing. "you'll be sick tomorrow. it's cold out there."

almost as if he could no longer hold the eye contact, he looks off to the side, his voice a low mumble of near guilt. "sorry."

"don't be. don't need to ask to shower either." you usher him towards the bathroom. "i've already got enough of your clothes to spare, so you can just stay over."

before you can close the door, you notice he's got a somewhat sulky expression. if there's one thing you know about megumi, is that he tends to not voice what he actually wants. "yes, we can cuddle afterwards. just warm up first, okay?"

for the first time in a few hours, he smiles, pulling the door handle himself.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ SUPER RICH KIDS kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is back home), family dynamics, rich kid things, swearing, chaewon is still chaewon, arguing, weight mentions

finally.

you’d think after everything that someone has gone through in this house, stepping back through those doors would be the last thing she’d want. but she wasn’t going to lie.

yn felt at peace.

because in the moon mansion, she could be who she truly was and not feel bad about it.

a rich girl.

“lunch will be ready soon,” jia’s voice broke through the peaceful quiet as yn lay sprawled on her pink towel by the pool.

yn let out a contented sigh, lifting her sunglasses and pushing her hair back. “thanks, jia. what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

“you already attended the press conference with your father, so that’s off your list. your brothers will be going to the one tomorrow, so all you’ve got left is golfing with your members.”

the happy, serene soundtrack in yn’s head came to a screeching halt as she shot up from her towel.

“what?!”

“your mother didn’t tell you? she thought it’d be a good idea for you to invite them, so she reached out while you were out with your father,” jia said, her expression full of concern. she didn’t understand. shouldn’t yn be excited?

“when does she ever tell me anything?” yn grumbled, flopping back down on her towel childishly “jia, during dinner, add a splash of vodka to my mango juice. maybe the alcohol will keep me from flipping the table.”

jia chuckled softly, fondness in her eyes for the girl she’d watched grow up. “when has that ever helped anything? i’ll check on lunch.”

yn groaned as jia walked away. this was supposed to be her escape. chaewon is going to have a field day with this.

it seems like nothing can ever go yn’s way.

dinner was quiet. but that was hardly unusual. as far back as yn could remember, dinner had never been family bonding time

bonding didn’t even exist in this family.

the unspoken rule was simple: eat in silence, speak only when necessary.

honestly, yn found the quiet pretty peaceful. just eating, no forced conversation.

but it seemed like her mother couldn’t stand seeing her at peace—ever.

maybe that was an exaggeration, but yn firmly believed it.

“you seem tense, yn,” jae said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took a slow sip from his drink. “something bothering you? got a problem with someone?”

yn gripped her fork tightly, slowly lifting her gaze from her plate. “i do, actually. and for once, it’s not with you, dickhead.”

“language,” their father muttered, eyes never leaving the documents he’d brought to the table.

“oh really, who’s ahead of me?” jae asked clearly liking the banter him and yn are having at the moment.

“I won’t disclose any details just as yet.”

daeun rolled his eyes at his siblings, then, deciding to break the silence since everyone seemed eager to chat, he asked, “so, mom, how was your day?”

their mother beamed at the question, her smile bright and warm. oh, how she adored her son. yn couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“it was amazing, honey. i was just reading an article about your sister’s group.”

“oh, really?” jae responded with mild interest.

“yes! that yunjin member mentioned how she always makes sure the other girls eat and stay healthy. isn’t that wonderful? yn, you have such lovely members.”

as far as yn was concerned, yunjin had never once asked if she was eating properly. but that wasn’t what set her off, she had kazuha who always checked in on her.

it was the nerve her mother had to praise yunjin for something like that—the same person who was the root cause of yn’s so-called “problem.”

“is that why you invited them over tomorrow—without asking me?”

yn hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but her mother’s comment set her off.

her mother furrowed her eyebrows at yn’s tone. “yes, actually. they seem like lovely girls. i was going to suggest you invite those ai girls you’re so fond of, but your judgment isn’t always the best, so i made the decision for you.”

the screech of yn’s chair echoed through the dining room. “i’m not hungry anymore, because clearly no one in this family respects me. may i be excused?”

“sure,” her father said casually, taking a sip of his wine.

“oh, come on, yn! let’s not fall back into those habits,” jae teased.

”fuck you jae!”

“language.”

“you don’t like them, do you?”

yn lifted her head from her pillow, turning slowly to see daeun standing at her door.

“what?”

“the girls in your group. you don’t like them.”

she watched as he stepped forward and sat at the edge of her fluffy bed. “you wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were the girls from sm.”

yn hated how daeun could always read her. they barely talked nowadays, but he still knew his little sister like the back of his hand.

“it’s not that I don’t like them. they don’t like me. no matter how much I lower myself or how nice i act, it’s like they can’t get over the fact that i’m a moon.”

“you lowered yourself for them?”

yn’s eyes flicked up from her lap to see jae standing at the door, disappointment written across his face.

she nodded, feeling a wave of shame. they were raised to believe they were better than everyone else, and here she was, bending over backward for girls who didn’t even like her.

“well, that was your first mistake,” jae said, shaking his head as daeun nodded in agreement.

“you’re dimming who you are to make them feel comfortable, and they’re taking advantage of that,” daeun added, hitting the nail on the head. yn hated how right he was.

“i know you, yn. you’re a bitch—a real one,” jae said with a smirk, earning an eye roll from her. “just be who you are. that’s how you’ll show them. it seems like they can’t stand the fact that you were always going to be successful, idol or not, and they hate that.”

“woah.” yn blinked in disbelief, looking between her brothers. “for once, you two actually make sense.”

“see? a bitch.”

yn adjusted the dior sunglasses perched atop her head, then straightened her pink ralph lauren golf dress before turning to jia.

“why are they taking so long? it’s a gated community,” she complained, tapping her foot as she stood in front of her expansive front lawn.

“patience is key, miss moon. the van is pulling up,” jia replied calmly.

yn felt anxiety creep in but quickly reminded herself of her brother's words. this wasn’t the dorms; this was her turf, the place where yn excelled.

the first person to step out of the van was kazuha, who immediately sprinted toward her.

“zuha!”

“you look so cute! i love your dress,” kazuha gushed, her eyes scanning yn’s outfit she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed yn looked, she was completely in her element.

“thanks! my dad got it. it’s vintage!” yn beamed.

“of course he did.” yn already knew who that could be.

as she looked past kazuha, she noticed the rest of the girls gazing at her house in awe, it was kinda awkward seeing them, especially after the last time, but yn was just gonna pretend like that day never happened.

yunjin nudged chaewon, nodding toward jia, who narrowed her eyes at chaewon, causing the latter's eyes to widen.

chaewon hadn’t realized someone else was there.

yn couldn’t help but smile at that. “this is jia, the help.”

the girls nodded politely, while kazuha waved, causing yn to furrow her brows. “bow?”

the girls’ eyes widened at the unexpected demand but quickly bowed their heads.

“we treat the help with great respect around here,” yn said sternly . “so take note of that for next time.”

kazuha smiled at yn while the others nodded, a mix of confusion and compliance on their faces.

“so, who’s ready to golf?” yn asked, flashing a sweet smile.

“you guys suck,” yn laughed, watching the girls struggle with their golf swings.

“well, not everyone has been doing this since birth,” chaewon shot back, rolling her eyes.

“you’re so right! it would take a lot to be like me, wouldn’t it?” yn teased, nudging chaewon’s side causing the girl to stumble “your form is horrendous.”

she strolled over to eunchae, adjusting the younger girl’s stance, then moved on to yunjin.

chaewon’s gaze drifted down yn’s body, taking in her outfit of course, she didn’t even know people actually wore dresses like that these days.

she was about to make a snarky comment when a loud shout interrupted her.

“ignore them it’s just the golf boys,” yn said as she corrected sakura’s form.

chaewon rolled her eyes when she heard the boys calling out yn’s name in a flirty tone.

“passed around?”

yn groaned at chaewon’s words. “I’ve only talked to them a handful of times. I barely know them.”

“i talk to the caddy girls a lot, though,” yn added, causing kazuha to laugh while chaewon scrunched her face in distaste.

“do you want my help with your form?” yn asked chaewon, raising an eyebrow.

“definitely not.”

“okay, then continue embarrassing yourself.”

chaewon opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a woman’s voice.

“yn!”

the girls turned to see yn’s mother approaching, and yn groaned, rolling her eyes. “why is she here?” she mumbled to herself.

the girls recognized the woman—it was yn’s mother.

“hey, ladies! I hope you’re having fun and that yn is being a good host,” she said with a bright smile.

the girls greeted yn’s mom with polite smiles, and she continued, “I just wanted to drop off some cute gifts i got for you all. I completely forgot about them! I had to stop the driver we just left from going to lunch.”

“lunch?” yn asked, the emotion in her voice hard to pinpoint. “you guys went to lunch without me?”

“honey, it’s not a big deal. don’t be dramatic! we were just celebrating your brother’s achievements just an intimate get together that I planned.”

yn couldn’t remember them ever holding something for her achievements, and she had plenty. “right,” yn laughed sarcastically. “i’m always so dramatic, huh?”

the girls exchanged awkward glances; they had never seen yn like this before.

“don’t act like that. god, you’re just like your father,” her mother said, brushing off yn's feelings.

yn clenched her jaw. “is that all? you just came by to drop off gifts?”

“yes, and i wanted to check on you. stop being so moody! just like your dad. my boys are more like me,” her mom said with a smile, prompting awkward laughter from the girls.

“you see how she argues with me, such a daddy’s girl, she looks like a girl version of him as well doesn’t she?.” her mother laughs causing yn to look at chaewon who looks at back at her with a blank face.

“how about you go back to your boys? they’re probably waiting for ‘mommy’,” yn snapped, glaring at her mother.

she had never spoken to her mother this way before, but as she got older, her respect for the woman had diminished. she barely considered her mother a mom anymore.

“yes, i have to go. we’re going shopping to pick out suits for your father and brothers.”

yn felt as if she had been punched in the gut. family shopping—without her? everyone knows yn loves shopping.

“did you plan that too?” she shot back.

her mother ignored yn’s words, stepping back to scan her daughter. “this outfit is cute. it looks good on you. maybe lose a couple more pounds, and it’ll look even better.”

the girls’ eyes widened at her mother’s words, but yn remained unfazed on the outside.

inside, however, yn felt the sting. she tried to pretend she didn’t care about her mom’s opinion, but deep down, she knew she’d spend extra time on her diet after that.

“anyway, I have to go. it was nice seeing you girls! i hope you like the gifts,” her mother said before walking away.

the girls turned to yn, who stared at her mother’s retreating figure before turning back to them.

“I just love my perfect life, don’t ’ I chaewon? now let’s work on your imperfect form.”

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[http-shield]

whatever you say, old man- bucky barnes

~ bucky barnes x fem!reader ~tags/cw: post endgame but no one is dead and life is good, think 2012 Avengers fandom where clint is in the vents yeah that is where I'm at, established friendships, pining, yearning, bucky is not used to new age dating rituals, explicit language, sexual tension ~ wc: 2.6k ~ not proofread

You: Hey, are we still on for tonight? Rita’s at 7?

Him: ye

“So you’re telling me this is normal?” Bucky’s tone is judgemental as he quickly reads over the words on your screen.

You nod, wordlessly confirming that situatuonships are a staple part of the modern dating scene.

Bucky’s brows furrow, eyes flicking from the lack of effort text message to your face as you lean over the bed, phone gripped between expertly manicured fingers. He blinks once, twice, as if taking the time to formulate a response that will rebuke your earlier confirmation without hurting your feelings. This is new for him. A habit he has only recently picked up upon developing his friendship with you. He usually isn't as careful with his words, not caring enough about the recipient's opinion or emotional well-being to warrant enough time and consideration when responding, but with you. It was another ball game entirely. Bucky doesn't want to hurt your feelings, to see you frown because of something he has said; in fact, he wants the opposite. To see you smile and laugh and blush because of him. For you to want to talk to him about anything and everything, share thoughts about your day and how things make you feel. Bucky wants to know everything that happens in that pretty little brain of yours, even if he doesn't necessarily agree with it. Normally he would take the time to sugarcoat his words, sweeten his tone and make it easy for you to swallow but this is a situation where he couldn't, doesn't, want to mince his words.

“There is no world where that is normal.” He stares at you, expression bored and a little annoyed. At you? Never. At the man on the other side of the phone? Incredibly so.

You groan at his very true statement and pull away, slipping the phone into the pocket of your cargos as you turn towards your open closet.

He’s right. You know he is.

There is nothing remotely normal about two grown adults being in a relationship that is defined by the amount of time the other left the first one on read, or how much emotional vulnerability there could be put on the table before the other got too scared and ran. There is nothing normal about being in your late twenties and having a grown man introduce you to his friends as a 'buddy’ despite having an entire draw dedicated to you in his apartment but you can’t admit that, refuse to admit that you know its wrong and desperate and frankly, demeaning. If you can't own up to your own patheticness, how are you supposed to admit it to the man you are secretly interested in. There would be nothing more humiliating than confessing that the only reason you are with and putting up with bullshit efforts from this other guy is to hopefully distract yourself from the desperate need you feel for Bucky. This new guy is mediocre at worst yet attainable at best and that is something you will live with until your crush on the super soldier is dead and gone and you can finally focus on something other than him.

——

You had spoken with Natasha about Bucky last night, her voice a soothing purr over the phone as she encouraged you to disclose your concerns about pushing the boundaries on your friendship with the super soldier.

“The worst thing that can happen is he says no and then you both move on.” She croons, voice laced with comfort and reassurance.

“Wrong.” You shake your head despite being on a voice call.  “The worst thing that can happen is he says no, I lose him as a friend and then I’m stuck pining after someone who wants nothing to do with me” You place another dish in the washer before continuing with your point. “Or I push him before he is ready, again losing him as a friend, and now I’m left with the guilt of possibly taking advantage of a war veteran.”

“You take advantage of Steve all the time, how is this any different?” 

“I take advantage of Steve to get someone to carry in the groceries. I’m not trying to date Steve.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “What if he is interested in you as well?”

Your hands stop scrubbing at the pan in the sink.

“I can find out.”

Heat fills your body, your stomach twists at the idea of having that information. It would put an end to the constant yearning you feel, but the thought of finding out he doesn’t like you that way, that he sees you as no more than a friend will destroy you, humiliate you beyond all logical reason and you would be forced to cut off the friendship out of pure self-preservation.

You shake your head again. “I’m good.” And return to scrubbing your pan. “I'll just wait out the crush and then move on.”

——

“This isn’t the 1940’s anymore.”  You sigh and completely shift your attention from Bucky to the mess that is staring back at you.

Endless outfit options are strewn about the small closet but so far none of them have come together, just single shirts, skirts, and pants all muddled in a heap of black.

“I know it's not the 40s but I doubt relationships and dating have changed that much." Bucky grumbles from behind you, the bed creaking as he shifts.

Another sigh, this one long and exaggerated as you will the frustration to leave your body. You want to turn to him and explain that you know all this, and are very aware of the fact that nothing about your current predicament is what you want. You want to be wooed with flowers and preplanned dates and soft kisses on hands and longing looks but that’s not the reality of life anymore and having to be reminded of it is getting annoying and your heart is starting to ache at the lack of effort given to you by your current choice of dating partner.

“You know if I was taking..” Bucky starts but you quickly cut him off with a whine of his name.

“James, please.” You don’t turn to face your friend, afraid to even glance at him because you know you will crumble. “I need help picking out an outfit so help me or go back to your room.”

--------

“You know if I was taking…” You don’t let Bucky finish but, God did he want to. His name on your tongue was enough to shut him up, to send a flush rushing to his face in a way that no man his age should blush, but he can’t help it. There is something about the way his name falls from your lips that has his mind racing to thoughts that should not be there, should not appear when the picture of you enters his mind.

“You know if I was taking you on a date, you’d get flowers and chocolates and champagne and those little baby dolls you like” is what he wanted to say before you shut him up with an annoyed grumble.

His intention wasn’t to display how things were different back in his day but to indicate exactly what you’d be getting were you about to go on a date with him, to explain the reason why you should go on a date with him and not some loser who couldn’t even formulate a fully fleshed out text message. How if you were to drop that kid, and say yes to Bucky he would gather the moon on string for you, pick every flower in every field, find every single little Sonny Angel there is and give them to you each and every day for the rest of your life, you would never be sat wondering why he isn’t calling or responding, if you were even going out the next day, if he even liked you. Bucky would make his feelings for you so abundantly clear that even a blind man would be able to see the signs, but you are his best friend and best friends don’t feel that way about each other. It’s all platonic hugs and hair tussles, cheeky jabs at each other over coffee, shared trauma and secrets over whatever dinner you bring to his apartment and he yours. There will be no dates, or long hugs that turn into kisses that turn into you beneath him, whimpering his name as he makes you feel oh so good.

Fuck.

Bucky’s entire body is on fire, and he needs to stop thinking about the way you would feel wrapped around him, his mouth on yours, the taste of you sweet on his tongue.

“Okay, what about this?” you announce as you walk into the bedroom from the ensuite. “Too much?”

You stand in the doorway, dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt.

“Too much?” Bucky is confused. “This is the outfit you wore to breakfast this morning.”

He is right about that one. You had worn a very similar outfit this morning, but tonight isn’t a full-on date, a semi-date, where things shouldn’t be that fancy so why shouldn’t you recycle your outfits. Bucky stands from the bed, readying himself to dig through the mountain of clothes that had formed at the entrance to the bathroom. He crosses the small space and squats before the clothing, fingers expertly rifling through the material, quickly brushing over the lace of bras and panties, before finding purchase on a black dress he thinks he has seen you in before. It might have been the dress you wore to a funeral or press conference, either way, it was not alluring in the slightest, not that you weren’t stunning in everything you wore, hell you could come out wearing a garbage bag and Bucky would be in awe of your beauty. It was just that he didn’t want your date to ogle you, to think of you the same way Bucky does so he is being a little selfish and conniving in his choice of garment.

“Where is he taking you?” His question is disguised as interest in the dress code but his real curiosity is far from an outfit.

There are two reasons why he needs to know where you will be tonight. The first is to judge whether this manchild is even worthy of a date with you, second if he knew the exact location and time, maybe he could show up and show out your date, make you realise what you deserve and how Bucky could be the one who gives it to you.

 “We’re meeting at Rita’s down the road and then might see a movie, maybe something else. I’m not sure yet.”

“He hasn’t planned anything?” Bucky whips his head around to you, finding you standing there looking incredibly embarrassed at the lack of effort. What the fuck happened in the years he was gone?

The defeated shake of your head is enough to have Bucky’s chest aching. He sits back on his haunches; the dress discarded back in the pile and gives the outfit another look as he decides on where to go from here. “Yeah, I think it’s too much.” He nods and stands up, brushing his hands as if he had just completed an excavation on some ancient site.

“Go change back into your sweats ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go on a date with a guy who can’t even plan something.” He nods his chin towards the bathroom, more of an order than a suggestion.

He watches you tilt your head back as you groan in frustration. “I’m not going through this again, old man. This is how it works now.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to get frustrated. He takes a step towards you, hulking 6’0 frame rising to tower above you with a somewhat menacing glare, but you know he will never hurt you no matter how much you push his buttons.

“I’m not talking about what it used to be like, little girl.” The jab at your age/generational difference comes out before he can register it, but he notices how your cheeks flush. “This is about getting what you deserve.”

He pushes in on the space between your bodies, now chest to chest as you square your shoulders, not ready to back down from an argument despite knowing you will not win.

“And what’s that?” you stare up at him, brows raised in anticipation of his answer. You aren’t sure where this is going. If you are going to receive another lecture or maybe even a verbal beatdown as to why your standards for men are so low, a common topic of conversation between you and Natasha, but instead you are met with a soft smile as his Vibranium hand is raised and brushes against your cheek.

“You deserve flowers and preplanned dates and wine and jewellery and everything you could ever want.” Bucky’s voice drops into a whisper, cold fingers trailing soothing lines against your heating skin. “You deserve a man worshipping you, to be on his hands and knees begging to take you on a date. Not some punk who can barely put together a sentence.”

You hold his gaze, blue eyes staring intently as you shudder in a breath. “Who’s going to do that, huh?” your voice is small, no longer filled with the same bravado you had not a minute ago. “You know anyone who wants to do that for me, you send them my way Bucko.”

His metal hand slips to your cheek to your jaw, fingers pressing into your pulse points so he can feel the speed at which your heart is racing.

“I’d do it.” He states matter-of-factly, eyes dipping to your lips. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breathing becomes a little bit too difficult as his human hand traces up your bare arm.

“Anything?”

Bucky nods and dips his head until his face is mere centimetres from yours. “You didn’t let me finish before, but I'd give you anything you’ve ever wanted.” Fingers move to cup your chin and tilt your head up. “You want flowers, I’m a florist. Moon? Stars? I’m getting Stark to build me a rocket. Anything you want, you’re getting it.”

“And if I want you on your hands and knees barking like a dog for me?” You smirk, the mental image of Bucky on his knees panting like a puppy has your stomach twisting.

“Put a collar on me and call me Spot 'cause I’m yours, doll.”

The confession has your eyes widening.

“I’m all yours, from now until whenever you’re done with me.” Bucky whispers, breathless.

“And what if I want you to kiss me?” you ask, knowing he is waiting for your permission to do just that.

Bucky crumbles, his expression falling from that of teasing into one of pleading.

“I want you to kiss me, James.” You whisper.

His resolve breaks and he presses his lips to yours. Softly and timidly, closed mouth and restrained but as your hands reach out to grip his waist, a delicate gasp slipping past your lips, does he deepen the kiss. His mouth opens over yours, lips slotting against your plush ones, tongue darting out to test to waters only to be met with your slackening jaw. Bucky’s grip on you tightens as he continues to kiss you, afraid to let you go in case this was one of the many, many dreams he had where he woke up alone and confused, but as you bite down on his bottom lip, he is brought back to reality. Your hands on his waist, pull him tighter against you, the softness of your body had Bucky’s mind wandering to places it should not be. You pull back, pupils blown wide and lips parted as you pant. Bucky is just as breathless, hands cupping your face with a gentleness he doesn’t think you’ve ever known from the way you stare up at him.

“You’re not going on that date.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

a/n: eee this is my first avengers fanfic since like 2018 pls be nice I just need something happy to think about clint living in the airvents, thor eating poptarts era was my happy place

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[chesterfieldblossom]

"AMERICAN WEDDING"

Arthur Morgan x Reader (1k words) "Well you can have my mustang / That's all I've got in my name"

SUMMARY | Arthur and you had been in a discreet relationship, but everyone on the camp knew your commitment. But of course, he wanted to make a bit more official. NOTES | It's really short, like just and idea I had on my notes when I was listening American Wedding by Frank Ocean. But I hope y'all enjoy. Also, dividers by @cafekitsune WARNINGS/TAGS | Oneshot, fluff, wedding proposal, f!reader RATING | Teen

"Well, you can have my Mustang." He drawled, voice low and quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the night. "That's all I got in my name."

You glanced up at him, the moonlight casting faint shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of weariness that came with the life he led. His eyes, usually hard and distant, were softer now, vulnerable even. Arthur Morgan was not a man who gave easily, and yet, here he was, offering you what little he had—his horse, his loyalty, his heart.

You had thought about marriage before—when you were younger, when life seemed simpler and oblivious. But the image had always been different: a small church, family gathered, maybe even a white dress. Not this—lying on a dusty cot, surrounded by the wilderness, with Arthur Morgan of all people. But that was the thing about life, wasn’t it? It never turned out quite like you imagined.

"Arthur..." You whispered, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about his Mustang. This was Arthur’s way of saying everything—his past, his future, his soul. You could feel his uncertainty, the tension in the way his fingers hovered slightly above you bare arm, as if he was waiting for you to make a move, to push him away, to tell him no.

But you didn’t want to. God, you would be out of your damn mind if you say no.

You reached up, placing your hand on his, stilling his gentle caress. His hand was large, warm, and rough from years of hard work. It grounded you, made you feel safe in this world of chaos. "I don’t need a Mustang, Arthur." You murmured, thumb tracing circles on the back of his hand. "I need you."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a moment, no one spoke. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, a reminder of the man beneath the outlaw. You could see the boy in he for the first time, a glimpse of your children. You wondered if he ever imagined this for himself, or if he thought he was too far gone for something like love, like commitment.

"I ain’t got much to offer." he finally said, voice hushed, like he was scared the words might break something between you. "Ain’t never been good at... well, any of this. You know that."

You smiled softly, shifting closer to him. "You’re enough, Arthur. Just you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you, as if he were trying to make sense of how someone could want him—just him. The world had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and in many ways, it had hardened him. But beneath the roughness, the gruff words and guarded glances, there was a man who felt deeply, who cared more than he let on.

As if making a decision, Arthur suddenly shifted beside you, reaching into the pocket of his worn coat. You watched, curious, as he fumbled for a moment before pulling something out—a small, delicate ring. The band was thin, silver, and simple, with no extravagant jewels, but to you, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He held it out to you, almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Picked it up in town a while back." he admitted, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Didn’t know if you’d... well, if you’d want it. Ain’t much, but it’s real silver."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart swelling in your chest. The fact that Arthur had gone out of his way to find a ring, something so traditional, so symbolic, meant more than words could express. You could see the way he was looking at you, searching for some kind of approval, some sign that this was right.

"Arthur..." You whispered, the voice breaking slightly. "It’s beautiful."

Without another word, he took your left hand in his, his touch gentle but sure. Slowly, almost reverently, he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit snugly, as though it had been made for you, and the cool metal sent a shiver through your skin. The moment felt timeless, as if you were the only two people in the world, surrounded by the quiet wilderness and the faint glow of the stars.

"There." he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now it’s official, I guess."

You couldn’t help but smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This was not the wedding you had once imagined, but in every way that mattered, it was better. Arthur Morgan was yours, and you was his, bound not by law or tradition, but by something deeper—something unbreakable.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the noses brushing, breaths mingling in the cool night air. "I love you, Arthur Morgan." You whispered, the voice thick with emotion. "More than anything."

He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close, his lips pressing softly to your temple. "I love you too." he murmured, the words coming out rough, like they were foreign to him. But they were real, and that’s all that mattered.

As you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, you looked down at the ring now glinting on your finger. It was simple, yes, but it was yours. Arthur leaned forward, lifting your chin to gave you a kiss. You happily returned, your bodies shifting closer as he embrace you and the lips moved together.

"But Jesus Christ don't break my heart." He whispered. The warm breath brushed on your lips, making you want to kiss him again.

"This wedding ring won't ever wipe off." You promised to him, whispering back.

[inheritedbelly]

Heavy Lifting

I start the day excited about the new job. It's not what I dreamed of, of course, but it's a start, a way to gain experience and, maybe, distract myself from the mess my life has become. I work in the warehouse of a factory. I'm an apprentice to Mr. Fred, a big, sweaty 60-year-old man. When I arrived, he was leaning against a pile of boxes, breathing slowly, the weight of his enormous belly rising and falling. He has a deep, thick voice that seems to resonate in his chest, but what stands out the most is his size. I'm not talking about his height, but his width. The guy is huge, almost as if life had shaped him around a giant belly. When he laughs, it feels like his whole body shakes. I can't imagine being in his skin, it must be uncomfortable and gross, but aside from that, he's a nice guy.

The work is exhausting. We carry and move boxes, organize shelves. Things are always missing, and we're the ones responsible for keeping everything in order. I just wish my life was like that—organized. At the end of the day, after lifting heavy things all day, Fred suggests we sit down and talk for a bit. Sitting across from him, I start to open up. I don’t know why, but the words come out before I can hold them back. I talk about my issues with my dad, how I don’t have a mom, and how the pressure to choose a college is suffocating me. I don’t know what I want to do with my life, I just wish I could skip this phase, wake up one day and have everything figured out. Fred listens attentively, his gaze heavy, almost as if he’s absorbing everything I’m saying. He nods slowly, and after a pause, he laughs, slapping his large belly. "Funny," he says. "I wish for the opposite. I wish I could be young again. Skinny. Do everything over, make different choices." His laughter fades, and he looks at the floor for a moment. Then, he looks at me with a strange gleam in his eyes. "You know what, kid? I think I know how to solve our problem." He snaps his fingers, and before I can respond, my vision goes black.

When I wake up, the first thing I feel is a strange coldness on my head. I reach up to the top of my head and… nothing. I'm bald. My heart races, and I look down, terrified. I see a huge belly, a round sphere dominating my field of vision, as if it’s an extension of me, but… it can’t be. The striped shirt covering this body isn’t mine. I try to get up from the armchair I’m sitting in, but everything feels different. Heavy. I grab the belly, this mass of flabby flesh that seems to be part of me now, and I look at my hands. They’re large, wrinkled, covered in saggy skin. It’s like I’m wearing gloves of flesh. I feel panic rising, and I let out a scream, but the sound that comes out of my throat isn’t mine. It’s hoarse, old. I bring my hand to my neck and feel a double chin. Horror overwhelms me, and I fall forward, my body too heavy to keep balance.

I lift my head, struggling, and I see my old body standing there, smiling at me with a malicious look. Everything clicks in an instant. I’ve switched bodies with Fred.

"What the hell did you do?" I shout, my voice now rougher than ever. Fred, in my body, lets out a short, mocking laugh. "Relax, kid. It was just a spell. A solution to our little problem."

I panic. "Undo it! I want my life back! My youth!" But he just shakes his head, still laughing. "You can’t. The spell can only be done once. Now it’s permanent."

My heart, or what was left of it in that old body, starts pounding out of control. I stumble backward, trying to process this new reality. I feel the belly wobbling with every step I take, like an anchor dragging me down. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening.

I run, or at least I try to, to the office bathroom. I lock the door behind me and look in the mirror. The reflection shows me an old, sweaty man with a desperate expression on his face. The face isn’t mine. The skin is full of wrinkles, the cheeks sagging. I run my hand over my face, unable to believe what I see. I can’t stop holding my belly. It’s always there, like a constant reminder that I’m now someone else. Fred knocks on the door, and I hear his voice—my voice from before. “Hey, it’s not going to be that bad, let’s be honest. Now you have what you wanted, and I have what I wanted.” I scream in response, but the truth is that I’m trapped. There’s no going back. Fred then enters and gives a light squeeze to my enormous stomach. I yell at him to leave, and then he steps back. He closes the bathroom door, and I, still in shock and confused about what happened, am left unsure of what to do. I lift my shirt and see: a big belly, covered in hair. I also notice that my chest, which was normal before, is now larger and sagging. With every step I take, I feel my body moving in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s uncomfortable and strange. I turn around and notice that my backside has also changed; it’s now much bigger. I look in the mirror, trying to understand what has happened. The person in the reflection doesn’t seem like me, but the way the body moves makes it clear that, unfortunately, it is mine now.

I leave the bathroom and find Fred, who is now in my body. He smiles and makes an ironic comment, asking if I’m ready. I quickly pull down my shirt and, unsure of what to do, ask, “So now what are we going to do?”

When I leave the bathroom, Fred tells me I can go to his place, which is now my home. I have no choice. Walking through the streets is hell. Every step is a huge effort. I feel sweat dripping down my body, especially between the folds of my belly and on my back. And it’s just a short walk. Upon arriving at the apartment, Fred shows me everything—where the things are, the bathroom, the pantry. During this little tour, I’m extremely out of breath from the walk. My belly bumps into everything around the house. He tells me about his routine. Now, it’s my routine. Because of the heat, I take off my clothes, and my now free belly is enormous. As I squeeze through the house, my stomach occasionally bumps into Fred, who is in my way. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not the one to blame for this situation; he is! He’s the one who stuck me in this huge body, but honestly, I’m too out of breath for another argument. As soon as he leaves me alone in my new room, he says, “See you tomorrow, boss,” winking before closing the door. I get ready to take a shower, which is at least strange since I’ve never had to bathe a fat old man before, let alone be the old man myself. I feel the loose skin and the weight of the fat on me. Lying down on the bed is even worse; as soon as I collapse onto the bed, my huge new belly settles against my body in an uncomfortable way, and I have to turn over, quickly causing it to fall to my side. I let out a heavy sigh. “What was I wishing for?”

Lying on the bed, with not many options for comfort, I close my eyes, trying to believe that everything was just a nightmare and that tomorrow everything will be back to normal. But it’s hard to believe that it was just a dream, considering how real everything felt. Even lying there, I had a lot of physical contact with every part of my body, since I was now bulkier. I couldn’t just run my hand over my body without my hairy arm brushing against my hairy stomach. So, I would turn to the side, still thinking my slim body would react. But instead, I felt the weight of my new body. My brain was still that of a slim man.

I would run my hand over my forehead and remember the baldness. I would touch my face and feel the old beard. I would glide my hands over my body and notice my new bulk. It was this repetitive cycle until I finally managed to fall asleep. The next morning, when I wake up, I feel an erection, but not like it always used to be, my dick was fighting against my stomach. in a fright I quickly wake up and my eyes meet see my big stomach and the white hairs on my chest. I quickly get a shock, and suddenly everything hits me: nothing was a dream, everything was real, and this is my new lif

[angelsuecult]

a lonely night | s. crosby ff

“it was the only time

and if i led you on then i apologize”

warnings: explicit sexual content, MDNI, 18+, nsfw, rough encounters, strong language, unprotected sex, smut

summary: what was meant to be a casual fling has sidney wanting more from a woman who has made her intentions clear.

wordcount: 4.2k

song: a lonely night - the weeknd

a/n: this is lowkey my first time ever writing something like this so it might not be the best but i like it. i hope you guys do too! also i didn’t proofread so it might be all over the place, sorry!

———

It was a crowded charity event, one of those high-profile affairs where athletes and celebrities mingle, the kind of scene Sidney usually tolerated more than enjoyed. He had just scored a hat-trick the night before, so naturally, the room was abuzz with people trying to congratulate him, trying to been seen with him. He wore that success with a bit more arrogance than usual tonight—shoulders squared, chin up, a smirk tugging at his lips as he worked the room.

You were there as well, not out of any real obligation but because your PR team insisted it would be good for your image. You moved through the crowds with an effortless grace, accepting compliments with a smile that never quite reached your eyes. You were used to this, to people fawning over you, wanting a piece of you. But you weren’t here for them.

When Sidney caught sight of you, something about your presence struck him—maybe it was the way you seemed almost indifferent to the attention you received, like you had better things to do. Or maybe it was the way your gaze, when it did meet his, was steady and unflinching, showing no sign of anything really.

He approached you with a self-assured stride, that trademark Crosby confidence, expecting you to respond like everyone else did—flattered, intrigued, maybe even a little starstruck.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice smooth, carrying that undercurrent of cocky charm.

“And you must be Sidney Crosby,” you replied, your tone natural, giving nothing away.

His smile widened. “I guess that makes us the center of attention, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself, babe. I’m here for the free drinks.”

Sidney chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. You weren’t playing along, weren’t biting the bait he dangled so casually. “You’re not a hockey fan, I take it?”

“I’m a fan of a good game,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m not here to feed anyone’s ego.”

Sidney’s smirk faltered for a second before he recovered. “That’s refreshing,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Most people in this room can’t get enough of it.”

You met his gaze head-on, unbothered by how close he was now. “Maybe they’re just better at pretending than I am.”

Sidney's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping in. “So, what are you pretending to do here then?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “Charity. Same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Except people actually want to see me here,” he shot back, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

“And I’m sure that helps you sleep at night,” you replied, not missing a beat.

There was a brief silence, charged with the tension of your verbal back and forth. Sidney was used to winning, on and off the ice, but this was a different kind of game, one where his usual moves didn’t seem to land the way he expected.

Finally he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you with a new level of interest. “I gotta say, this night just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning in. “I don’t meet many people who aren’t impressed by me.”

“Maybe you should meet more people,” you suggested.

Sidney smirked, recognizing the game you were playing. “Maybe. But most of them aren’t as interesting as you.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, keeping your expression unchanged.

“Who said I was trying to go anywhere?” he shot back, his smirk widening.

A beat of silence settled once more, this time it was thick with tension. Sidney was used to women being drawn to him, used to his charm working like a well-oiled machine. But you weren’t giving him anything, and that only made him more determined.

“So if you’re not a fan of hockey, what are you a fan of?” he asked, trying a different approach.

“I never said I wasn’t a fan of hockey,” you replied, your tone still calm, still controlled. “I just said I’m not a fan of yours.”

The words hung in the air between them, shark and unexpected. Sidney blinked, taken aback for a split second before he could regain his composure.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to work on changing that,” he said, his voice low, almost daring.

“Good luck,” you said, your lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’ll need it.”

———

Later that evening, after the event had wound down and most of the crowd had thinned out, Sidney found himself in the hotel bar. He wasn’t quite ready to call it a night, his mind still buzzing with the thrill of the evening. There was something about you—something that got under his skin in a way that he wasn’t used to.

He wasn’t surprised to see you there as well, sitting alone at the bar, a half empty glass of whiskey in front of you. He slid onto the stool beside you without an invitation.

“You don’t strike me as the type to drink alone,” he said, signaling the bartender for his own drink.

You barely glanced at him. “Maybe I’m not alone.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is here.”

You gave a small smile. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Sidney took a sip of his drink, studying you. There was something about you, something that intrigued him beyond just surface-level attraction. Maybe it was the way you held yourself, or the way you seemed immune to the usual charm he used so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” he asked, leaning back slightly.

You sighed, swirling the liquid in your glass. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

There was a pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. Sidney didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to bridge the gap that seemed to open between you.

“Look,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less cocky than before. “I’m not here to mess with you. I just-”

You cut him off, your tone laced with sarcasm. “Wanted to see if you could score off the ice too?”

Sidney opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again, realizing there was no easy way to explain himself. “Maybe,” he admitted after a moment. “But not like that.”

Your expression softened slightly, though you tried to keep your guard up. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.”

“Maybe you could try harder then,” you suggested, your voice tinged with challenge.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You smirked, finally allowing him the satisfaction of a small smile. “So I’ve heard.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the tensions between you shifted into something else—something warmer, Sidney found himself leaning in, drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. But just as he was about to close the distance, you pulled back, placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“I’m not looking for anything more than tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze steady on his.

He nodded, slowly, understanding what you were saying, but not entirely sure he could accept it. “Neither am I,” he lied.

You saw through it, but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned in, brushing your lips slightly against his in a kiss that was more a test than a promise. You smiled, a real smile this time, and it was like a punch to his gut. “Good. Then let’s keep it simple.”

He reached out to push a strand from your face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have, “Simple’s good.

You pulled away, your gaze never leaving his as you brushed your hair over your shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here.”

———

The atmosphere in the elevator was thick with tension, the kind that had been building since the moment your eyes first mentioned. You guys had barely made it inside before the doors slid shut, and the confined space only seems to amplify the electricity between you. The second the doors closed, all acts were dropped.

His hands were on you before you could even take a breath, his strong fingers gripping your waist, pulling you against him. You responded immediately, your hand sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, before wrapping around his neck to pull him down to your level. Your lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all teeth and tongue, like you both had been holding back for far too long.

There was no gentleness in the way you both moved, only raw, unrestrained desire. Sidney’s hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin he could reach. His hands were rough as they slid up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist, his fingers brushing against the lacy edge of your panties. You moaned softly against his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and ready. Your hips jerked involuntarily as he began to stroke you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug deep into his clothed shoulders, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“Sidney,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need as he pressed his thumb against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you see stars. The sounds coming from you were obscene, a mix of moans and whimpers that echoed off the walls of the small elevator.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Sidney groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you come undone beneath his touch. His fingers quickened their pace, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The elevator seemed to crawl up to his floor, each second stretching out in agonizing anticipation. Sid growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against you in a way that made your knees weak. Before you could fall over that edge, the elevator dinged, signaling the arrival on his floor. Sidney pulled his hand away leaving you panting and on the verge of begging. The smug grin on his face told you he knew what he was doing to you, and it only made you want him more.

As soon as the doors opened, Sidney pulled you out into the hallway, barely giving you time to adjust to the change before he was on you again. You stumbled down the hallway, hands fumbling with clothes as you went. You gasped as Sidney pushed you up against a wall, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.

“Baby,” you breathed, your voice a mix of need and impatience as you tugged at the buttons of his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. He laughed, a dark, sinful sound that sent a thrill down your spine as he leaned back just enough to rip the shirt open himself.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased, his eyes dark with desire as he reached for you again, this time hooking a hand around your thigh to hook your leg up around his waist. You didn’t bother with a response, instead letting out a soft moan as you felt the hard length of him pressing against you. Your dress was riding up, barely covering anything at this point, and he took full advantage, his hands slipping under the fabric to squeeze your ass, pulling you even closer.

“Room,” you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the effort of holding yourself together. “We need to get to the room.”

Sidney grunted in agreement, but didn’t release you. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, practically lifting you off the ground as he continued down the hallway, his lips never leaving yours. You barely made it to the door before he was pinning you against it, his fingers digging into your hips as he rubbed against you, the friction making you both groan.

It took a moment to fumble for the keycard in his pocket, and you used the opportunity to suck on his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural sound from him that made your pulse race. Finally, he managed to get the door open, practically shoving it with his shoulder as he carried you inside.

The door slammed harshly behind you, but neither of you seemed to notice. You were too busy tearing at each other’s clothes, a frantic urgency consuming you as you both stumbled further into the room. Sid’s jacket hit the floor, followed by your dress, which he practically ripped off of you in his haste to get you naked. You weren’t far behind, your hands working feverishly to unbuckle his belt, pushing his pants down until they pooled at his feet.

You barely made it to the bed. Sidney’s hands were everywhere, exploring, gripping, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breath caught as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body covering yours in an instant. The kisses between you were hungry, desperate, filled with a need that neither of you could contain.

“Jesus,” Sid growled, his voice thick with desire as he kissed a trail down your neck, his mouth hot against your skin. You arched into him, your nails raking down his back as you urged him on, needing more, needing him.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs wider as he settled between them, the hard length of him pressing against your core. “Now,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of urgency and need. “I need you now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed the base of his cock, guiding himself to your opening. The first push was slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you. Your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into his back as you arched beneath him, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one hitting that perfect spot inside that made you cry out.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your body rocking with each of his thrusts. The intensity of it, the way he moved inside of you, almost too much to bear, Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your moans echoing in the room as he drove into you, his pace relentless.

It didn’t take long before he flipped you over, your stomach pressed against the mattress as he positioned himself behind you. He gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrust forward, the new angle sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to the headboard, gripping it tightly for support as he fucked you from behind, his movements rough and demanding.

You could feel every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely, the way his hands dug into your hips, anchoring you to him, The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slap of skin against skin, filled the room, mingling with both of your moans and gasps. It was messy, it was intense, it was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Sidney groaned his voice deep and raspy, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release, driving you both to the brink

“Oh my god I’m close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten, ready to snap. “Fuck.”

With a low growl, Sid pulled you up so that your back was flush against his chest, one his arms wrapped around you, with the other wrapped around your throat, as he continued to thrust from behind. “You take it so well,” he whispered in your ear. The new position sent you spiraling over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling. You cried out his name, your release coating his cock creating wet sounds as he continued to move inside of you drawing out your release. “That’s right baby,” he coaxed as your head rolled back onto his shoulder.

But he wasn’t done yet. He turned you around again, pulling you on top of him as he lay back on the bed. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest as you sank down onto him, taking him in fully. The position gave you full control, and you didn’t waste it. You began to ride him, your movements slow at first, savoring the way he felt inside of you, before picking up the pace. “Good girl, holy fuck,” he breathed out.”

Sidney’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you rode him, his eyes locked on yours. The sight of you above him, head thrown back in pleasure, breasts bouncing about was almost enough to send him over the edge. He thrust up to meet you, matching your pace, the tension in his body building to an almost unbearable level.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained as he felt himself getting closer. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” you urged, your own voice breathless as you rode him harder, pushing you both to the edge. The sound of your bodies moving together, the feel of him inside of you, was enough to tip you over again, your second orgasm hitting you with just as much force as the first. Your body clenched around him, and that was all Sidney needed.

With a low, guttural groan, Sidney came, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He spilled into you, his hips jerking with intensity as he rode out the waves of pleasure. You continued to move above him, milking every last drop until you were both spent. bodies trembling with exhaustion.

You pulled yourself off of him, a mix of both of your juices dripped from out of you and onto his dick, causing him to throw his head back against the pillows. You collapsed together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, both of your breath heavy as you tried to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sounds of labored breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you lay there together, spent and satisfied. Your head rested against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart a steady rhythm beneath your ear. For a moment, you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your intense night together.

Finally, he turned his head in your direction, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light of the room. There was as softness in your gaze now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before, and it tugged at something deep inside him. He leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, his earlier roughness replaced with something almost tender.

“Stay,” he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He wasn’t sure why he said it—he’d never been the type to ask someone to stay the night—but with you, it felt different. Like maybe this could be more than just a one-night thing.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes searching his as if you were trying to figure out what he really meant. But then you smiled, a small, almost sad smile, and shook your head no. Sidney felt a pang of disappointment, but he didn’t push. He knew better than to ask for more than what was being offered, especially when it was clear you had your reasons. So he just nodded, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you fully into his arms.

“This was supposed to be simple,” you whispered, your voice still tinged with the remnants of shared passion.

Sid chuckled softly, his hands brushing through your hair. “Simple doesn’t seem to be our style, eh?”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your gaze searching his. ”We both know this doesn’t change anything, right?”

He nodded, though there was a part of him that wasn’t entirely convinced. “Right.”

You fell asleep like that, tangled together in the sheets, your bodies warm and tired.

———

Sidney woke up to the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. His hand brushed over the cool cheeks, a strange feeling settled in his chest—a mix of confusion and something else, something he wasn’t ready to name. He could almost feel you there, the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin.

Blinking against the light, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around the room. It was quiet, and the space beside him was untouched, as if no one had ever been there.

For a moment, he thought maybe he’d imagined it, that night you shared was just a vivid dream. But the faint scent of your perfume still lingered in the air, and the tousled sheets were evidence enough that you had been there, at least for a while.

He sat up fully, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what had happened. Everything from the night before came rushing back—the charged banter, the undeniable chemistry, the way you’d felt around him, responding to his every touch. It had been intense, passionate, and for a brief moment, it had felt like more than just a short connection. He stared mindlessly at the floor, his mind replaying every moment, every touch, every moan. The sheets still smelled like you, and the memory of your body pressed against his was still fresh in his mind.

But now you were gone, and with you, the warmth and closeness that had enveloped him during those hours together. Sidney frowned, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. You must have left early, slipping out before he’d even had a chance to wake up.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’d never been one for long goodbyes, especially when it came to flings. It was easier to keep things casual, to let it be what it was without any lingering complications.

But this felt different. The empty space beside him was a harsh reminder that you had made the decision to leave before he even had a chance to say anything. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. As the silence settled around him, he realized that something had shifted inside him.

For the first time in a long while, Sidney felt something beyond just the physical satisfaction that usually followed a night like this. The sex had been incredible, that much was clear. But there was a nagging emptiness, a gnawing sense that what you shared wasn’t as casual as you both wanted to believe.

Sidney swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up as he tried to shake off the strange sense of loss. He told himself it was better this way—clean, simple, no strings attached. That’s what you agreed on, after all. You were gone, and he was alone. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath as he tried to center himself. He had to get a grip—this was just another night, another woman, and life would go on as it always did.

But as he moved around the room, gathering his clothes and getting dressed, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Not yet. He noticed a small piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly. Sid’s heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, unfolding it to reveal a short, handwritten note.

“Thanks for the night. Let’s keep it uncomplicated :) -Y/N”

Sidney stared at the note for a long moment,the words echoing in his mind. “Uncomplicated.” That’s what you wanted, what you had both agreed to. But now as he read your words, he couldn’t help but feel that things were far more complicated than either of you had anticipated. As he stood there, staring at the note, he knew you had left a mark on him, one that he couldn’t easily erase. The memory of you, of the way you had looked at him with those challenging eyes, would stay with him. Whether he liked it or not, you had gotten under his skin.

With a sigh, he tucked the note into his pocket, trying to push the thought from his mind. You were gone, and that was supposed to be the end of it. But deep down, Sidney hoped this wasn’t over. There was something between you, something that couldn’t be so easily dismissed. But he had a life to get back to, a routine that didn’t include him moping over women who left before dawn.

And as he left the room, closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you again. And if he did, what the hell he would do about it.

[angelicjackles]

— reckless heroine.

cw: fem!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a smidge of fluff, injuries and blood descriptions — 2.2k a/n: this is the first time I've posted anything publicly in years so consider this a testing the waters fic, trying to find my groove and decide if i want to make this a regular thing.

summary: after a rough, but successful hunt, you and dean arrive back at the motel, only you were reckless and got injured, some duct tape patching up ensues from an angry dean.

The storm had arrived just as Dean and her pulled into the grimy parking lot of the Twin Pines Motel, how very Montana. The heavy raindrops pummeled against the windows like a stark warning. The sky rumbled with low growls, and flashes of jagged light illuminated the dim, rundown building. Inside their basic motel room, the air was thick with tension and the unmistakable smell of almost damp carpet—a cheerful welcome after a semi-successful hunt with a werewolf.

Dean slammed the creaky motel door shut behind them, the force alone almost enough to splinter the plaster around the hinges, his expression a maelstrom of anger and concern blended into one explosive temper as he flicked the lightswitch, the gross orange-ish glow of the overhead bulb highlighted the unsavoury nature of their accommodation. They’d come a long way from Kansas for this hunt.

Sam and Cas took off East together for a potential case, something something bizarre circumstances, frankly, there’d been little resistance offered when the duo took off to the east coast, leaving her and Dean to take Montana—although if they were real, they’d probably have taken anywhere over the east coast.

The door was barely closed for a moment before his gruff voice crackled through the air like a whip. “Did that brewing concussion knock all damn common sense out of your head?” Dean snapped angrily, his demandingly sharp voice rising above the impending storm. “You got a fucking death wish or something?”

She grimaced, carefully moving to sit on one of the twin beds, feeling the throbbing pain radiating from the gash on the back of her shoulder, the wound still steadily leaking blood, instinctively rubbing the spot on the back of your head that had collided with the concrete earlier in the night when he mentioned a concussion.

“Very funny,” she retorted in deadpan, infusing her tone with a touch of biting sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defence mechanism, and all but guaranteed to rile him up further. “The victim needed help, she was bleeding out and scared, and unlike you I actually gave a shit about more than ganking the mutt.” The implication that he didn’t care if the victim survived so long as they handled the werewolf wasn’t helping Dean’s mood, but the remorse she showed was negligible. “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I? And it worked—aren’t you always telling me ‘trust your instincts, your instincts are good’.” she added on before he had a chance to respond, putting an emphasis on the drawl of his voice. The mock only made that muscle in his jaw clench so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if his teeth shattered. Heed the warning.

A growl bubbled in the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to keep it partially contained and tossed both his and her bags down onto the bed she hadn’t plopped down on. He may be pissed at her right now but that didn’t mean he was going to let his injured best friend carry her own bag. “Trust your instincts?” He gestured wildly with his hand, like that would somehow show just how worked up he was right now. She was getting to him, bad, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he was summoning from Chuck only knows where to stop from lashing out at her. “You were reckless and got yourself attacked in the process of playing heroine!” He rasped, his low voice reverberating off the thin motel walls with how loud his words escaped. 

Just for good measure he had to force his eyes elsewhere, just so he’d stop being faced with those claw marks on your shoulder, every glance at them made something in him coil and burn. Stomping towards the foot of the unoccupied bed, he aggressively unzipped his duffle bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile she was busy shedding herself of the unnecessary clothing and gear, kicking her shoes off and abandoning them on the mysteriously patchy carpet next to the bed, unbuckling her belt and unlatching the clasp on the blade sheath on her hip, tossing both onto the lone chair off to the side of the beds.

Finally after a few long moments his fingers found the squished edges of the first-aid kit he’d grown used to keeping in there—the first-aid kit that only remained stocked up because she meticulously replenished what she, him and Sam went through after every hunt—Snagging it up, deft fingers were quick to unzip and flick through it haphazardly, plucking out several different medical supplies.

When he realised she hadn’t responded to his last few retorts, which was uncharacteristic for her, his eyes flickered back towards her, forest green eyes darkening at the blood leaking against her pale skin. “You put yourself in danger, again, and walked away with a souvenir I’m not too keen on.” He continued despite his better judgement, gesturing angrily at the deep werewolf claw marks on the back of your shoulder blade, having torn through her flannel and undershirt, soaking both in bright crimson and leaving her down to a base layer tank top.

The retort had her glancing over her shoulder, but able to see little more than the dark streaks of blood sticking to wet skin. The amount of blood she’d lost so far wasn’t enough to be life-threatening, but it was definitely a worrying situation that needed attention. God forbid the pair didn’t do their back-and-forth arguing before that though, not like she was bleeding out over here or anything. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.” He grumbled, not so hotly as before, the edges of concern leaking into his voice. “These are gonna scar ugly...” The last part was more of an afterthought.

“More to add to the collection,” she mused out far too casually for the situation. “What did you ju—” He interjected, a warning hiss in his voice, but she was quick to wave a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Forget it.” She brushed off, cutting off his warning remark.

‘It’s like she’s trying to piss me off,’ Dean thought to himself, and hell maybe she was. “For once, couldn’t you have followed the game plan, sweetheart? Fuckin’ hell…” His tone was a mixture of worried fondness and scolding terseness. Either way, she was quick to turn her entire body around on the bed to glare at him, ignoring the searing pain from her wound with the quick movement.

“Oh? Am I supposed to bow down to Dean Winchester’s expert advice? Follow orders blindly?” She shot back at him, a chilling kind of coolness to her voice. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s your speciality,” she added, venomously, the tension in her voice masking the discomfort that coiled within her body.

And she could have sworn she saw him flinch as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, making a low simmering pit of guilt fester inside her, knowing she was out of line. Low blow. His gaze pained for a fleeting moment, pretty green eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest amount like those words had quite literally taken the breath from his lungs; but it quickly hardened again as he stewed on those words, cracking open a bottle of antiseptic with more force than necessary. “Just— shut up, for once.” It was almost a plea, more of a pained demand, but she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sit still and let me patch you up, okay? I may not be a doctor, but I can keep your ass from bleeding out.”

She rolled your eyes, watching as he pulled out a smorgasbord of supplies from the first-aid kit. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own medical emergencies. This isn’t my first skirmish with fangs and claws, Dean. I don’t need your help,” her voice came out more snapped than intended.

Despite the fact they both knew the precocious positioning of this wound left her unable to attend to it herself, she’d have to be a pretty fine contortionist to deal with it without help. Dean opened his mouth to inform his best friend of just that but thought better of it in the final second, slowly his mouth slipped closed.

A frustrated grunt slipped past his lips and one hand racked impatiently through his short, messy locks. “Well, congratulations on surviving past encounters, but this looks like a crime scene,” he replied tersely before sighing in frustration, the adrenaline of the situation beginning to die. “—plus, you’re bleeding on my marginally clean bed,” he added on, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which pulled a scoffed laugh from her mouth before it could be helped.

His tense shoulders dropped slightly in relief when she responded by gingerly peeling the fabric of her black tank top away from the wound, letting it slip down off her slender shoulder so he’d have access. 

The next fifteen minutes were deafeningly quiet, the only sounds were the soft pained noises that left her mouth, and the heavy breaths of concentration from Dean as he worked at disinfecting and patching up the wound on her shoulder as best as possible - Would this be easier to do in the bathroom instead of on the bed? Absolutely, but here they were.

Thankfully the wound didn’t need stitches, the claw marks the werewolf had left her with were nasty but not deep enough to be genuinely worrisome—not that it would stop Dean from worrying like a motherfucker. They’d leave some impressively disgusting scars, and hurt like a bitch for the next couple weeks as they healed, and as much as he was tempted to suggest going to the nearest a&e to get her properly seen to, just to be safe, he knew what her answer would be, so that wasn’t a battle he’d win. His basic hunter duct-taping would have to suffice.

The mood wasn’t great, both seething with worry and anger and pain that blended together into a chokingly intense thickness that lingered like smoke in the air, so it was in everyone’s best interests that they shut up.

“Done.”

Those words out of his mouth seemed to break the atmosphere and she slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder right in time for his thumbs to smooth out the medical tape that adhered the thick, white dressings to her pale skin, his touch extremely gentle despite everything, ensuring the tape wouldn’t come loose.

Turning on the bed so she was facing him as he remained stood up, her shoulders rolled back slowly, testing out the movement with the fresh patch up, it seemed to be healing. “How’s it looking, doc?” She quipped, her voice slightly lilted, making a weak attempt to lighten the mood up, too damn tired to argue further with him. His mouth quirked up in what could be described as a lazy grin. “Think you might just survive the night, thanks to the tireless effort of your handsome doctor.” He teased, only because he wanted to see her roll her eyes in that fondly affectionate way, and he got his wish.

The way she made a point to shake her head at him was all he needed to see to know that the sparky atmosphere had diminished; even though it was likely due to the adrenaline dying out and the pain kicking in.

His eyes followed her when she pushed herself to stand up, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Mm, I don’t know, can’t say the bloody hands add to the sex appeal.” She hummed, eyes flicking down to his hands that were stained with her blood, hands that were now staining her arm in deep crimson too, her brows furrowing in distaste, but he didn’t seem in a rush to pull his hand back so she didn’t move to knock him off either. His gaze dropped to the offending hands in question, nose scrunching up at the sight of the blood as his thumb stroked against her elbow. “So… you’re saying I have sex appeal?” 

The tone of his voice in that moment was the most playful thing she’d heard from him in a long time. She couldn’t help but laugh, a real hearty ‘you’re such an idiot’ kind of laugh, the kind that had him grinning crookedly at her in return.

“Your ego needs no further stroking, I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” She held her hands up in mock surrender, which only rumbled an amused laugh from deep in his chest.

“That’s my girl.” Dean beamed, running his tongue over his teeth with a soft sigh. The adrenaline had long since faded and now he was left with that anxious worry and tired stress lingering in his body. “Fuck… C’mere, you,” he beckoned suddenly, barely giving her time to register his words before he was pulling her in against his chest, strong arms wrapping around her in such a delicate way, careful of her injuries while somehow managing to squish her into him. The height difference leaving the top of her head tucked perfectly underneath his chin as his fingers carted through her messy hair.

“Look... Call a truce, sweetheart?” The gruff hunter muttered into her hair, his arms cradling her close to his larger body. “Truce.” She conceded, placing a complacent kiss against his clothed shoulder, which earned a soft little rumbly hum from him.

The storm raged outside, but within the cramped motel room, a warmth had blossomed between the pair of them—a reminder that despite all the chaos of the job, it was them against the world and in this tempest, as the thunder rolled across the darkening horizon and the lightning split the sky, they both knew they’d face them together, side by side.

[k-nayee]

Ghost Town BNHA

wc: 2.8k a/n: Song Inspiration: Ghost Town by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You fill me up 'til you're empty...

The late afternoon sun casted a warmth over school grounds as you chatted with  Uraraka and Midoriya.

It was nice as the three of you walked together; even the greenette, who usually had a hard time speaking to girls, laughed along with your teasing comments.

Bakugo stood a little ways off, watching. His crimson eyes were sharp with a certain tension in his expression that hadn’t been there earlier that day.

Normally he would’ve made some snide comment by now, especially seeing you standing so close to the timid boy.

But today, Bakugo wasn’t himself.

He approached you in deliberate strides, his jaw set. You noticed the way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, almost as if he was holding himself back.

As he neared, you felt a flicker of something—nervousness? Excitement?—you couldn’t quite place it. Bakugo always had a way of stirring something inside you, no matter the circumstance.

“Oi,” he barked, voice unusually serious. “We need to talk.”

I took too much and you let me...

Conversation around you fizzled as Uraraka and Midoriya exchanged confused glances. You, too, blinked in surprise. Normally, Bakugo wasn’t this direct—not with you, anyway.

He was blunt, sure, but not like this. There was a hardness to his tone, an edge that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “What’s up, Katsuki?”

He didn’t respond, his eyes flickering to the duo. You take the hint and turn to the pair, giving them a quick wave. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

As your friends walked away the air between you and Bakugo thickened. He turned abruptly, heading toward the school building without a word, leaving you no choice but to follow.

When you reached an empty classroom, you slip inside, Bakugo shutting the door behind with a soft click. The familiar scent of chalk and old textbooks filled the space, but it did nothing to ease the growing tension.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there with his hands still in his pockets, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. His usual gruffness was gone—replaced by something much colder, much more distant.

We’ve been down all these roads before...

You watched him, waiting, hoping that he would explain whatever was weighing him down.

“Katsuki?” you step closer, voice soft. You offer him a bright smile, the kind that usually softened his rough edges.

But today, it didn’t reach him. He barely looked at you.

A sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain. You reached out, your fingers just grazing his sleev—

“I want to break up.”

And what we found don’t live there anymore...

You took a step back, feeling as if his words had physically struck you. Your heart pounded in your chest until it echoed in your ears, drowning out the silence that had fallen between you.

“…What?” The word barely escaped your lips, a fragile whisper as your mind struggled to comprehend what he’d just said.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, and for a fleeting moment, his crimson eyes met yours. He stiffened at the sight of you—vulnerable, confused.

Your brows furrowed in pain, your lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back the hurt. Seeing you like this made something inside him twist sharply.

But just as quickly, he tore his gaze away, refusing to let you see the storm raging inside him. 

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you with a sharp wave of his hand, “only happened out of obligation.”

Obligation...

The word hit you harder than the breakup itself.

He continued, his tone bitter.  “You know how the old hag was. Always on my ass, hounding me to give you a chance.”

It's dark...

Your mind reeled. You met Bakugo in middle school and from that moment you’d been drawn to him.

He was rough and brash with a fire that burned everything he did, and that only made you more determined to get close to him.

Your crush had been obvious, but you never shied away from it. You pursued him with a confidence that even now looking back you admired.

And yes, Bakugo had been difficult—dishing out the usual sharp remarks, disrespect dripping from every word. But still, you never backed down.

You tolerated it—not out of weakness, but because you refused to be intimidated by him.

You met his fire with your own; challenging him and pushing back, not afraid to give him the same energy he threw at the world.

It's cold...

At first you were just an affectionate annoyance to him. Always hanging around, always inserting yourself into his space. But with time, you grew on him—though he’d never admit it.

You became a part of his life, slipping past the walls he put up around everyone. He never asked for it, but he came to expect your presence—to crave it in ways he didn’t understand.

And now, standing in this empty classroom you could barely recognize him.

For a moment your voice felt lost. The Bakugo in front of you—saying these words and shutting himself off—was a stranger.

Something inside you knew he was lying. He had to be.

“…You’re lying.” Your voice came out weak, trembling.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your words hung in the air fragile, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But you knew Bakugo. He was a lot of things—angry, hotheaded, unpredictable—but he wasn’t a liar. Not to you.

If my hand is not the one you're meant to hold...

You searched his face for any hint of truth, any crack in his exterior. But his expression was hard, closed off in a way you hadn’t seen in so long.

“I’m not, and you know it!” His voice was sharp, louder than before with anger lacing every word.

His lips press into a thin line as his teeth into the flesh to keep the words trapped inside—the sorrys, the desperate apologies. Taking one last look at your face, he turns away with a scoff.

His chest tightened as he try to hold back the wave of guilt that threatened to swallow him whole.

But he couldn’t let it out. If he did, it’d be over. He wouldn’t be able to do this.

Wouldn’t be able to let you go.

"You are!" Your voice cut through the silence more sure this time. He could hear the determined steps you took toward him, the confidence in your voice making it even harder to breathe.

You were close now, close enough that he could feel your warmth even though he kept his back to you. He didn’t dare turn around.

"Tell me you don’t love me if you’re serious." You dared him, forcing him to confront the truth you already knew. "Because the Katsuki I know will tell me the truth, because he isn’t afraid of the consequences."

You know I'll stay don't you tempt me...

The words echoed in his mind, bouncing off the walls he had built around himself. And for a second, just a second, Bakugo faltered.

His resolve wavered at the sound of your belief in him—a belief he didn’t deserve, not after everything he was about to do.

Your confidence made his head spin, made the words in his throat turn to ash.

But no matter how much your voice reached out to him the doubt gnawed at him. The weight of every fear and insecurity clawing at the edges of his mind.

Do it, the voice whispered. You don’t deserve her. She deserves better, someone who can give her the kind of love you can’t.

The voice grew louder, drowning out everything else. They took root in his mind; poisoning every thought and emotion until all he could feel was the crushing weight of his own incompetence.

But all this weight is getting heavy...

"You want the truth?” Before he could stop himself the words ripped from his throat.

Turning around to face you with a vicious glare, his voice was laced with venom. “I can’t keep letting an extra like you drag me down!"

The second the words left his mouth the air between you seemed to freeze. Your footsteps, even the sound of your breathing—it all stopped.

The world felt like it had come to a standstill.

Bakugo's heart hammered in his chest as he forced himself to keep going. "You're not even in the hero course!"

Though meant to hurt and push you away, as soon as they left his mouth, he felt a sickening twist in his gut. Still he couldn’t stop. He had to finish this.

“Keep following me around like a pathetic dog. I will be Number One, and I refuse to have any baggage slowing me down!" His voice rose, louder and harsher than he meant.

Every syllable spoken was coated in venom, cutting deeper and deeper with each passing second. And then—silence.

Been holding up what wasn't meant to stand...

No words. No movement. Just...nothing.

Bakugo grit his teeth, jaw tight as he waited—waited for you to scream, to lash out, to fight back like you always did. But nothing came.

The silence stretched on, wrapping around him like chains, pulling him down deeper into the pit he had dug for himself.

Then, came the sound of your sniffles. Soft and faint, the sound of your heart breaking. For years, you always worried that you weren’t good enough for Bakugo.

You didn’t have the flashy, powerful quirk that the others did. Hell, you weren’t even in the hero course! You were just a simple General Studies student.

That insecurity had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It always lingered in the back of your mind, whispering doubts whenever you saw Bakugo training, pushing himself harder than anyone else.

And it had only gotten worse when you started dating him. You couldn’t help but wonder if people looked at you and thought, How could someone like her ever deserve him?

I turned this love into a wasteland...

But Bakugo had always been there to shut those thoughts down. Harshly. Brutally. He never let you get away with doubting yourself, always snapping at you for thinking so low of yourself.

His scolding had been tough, unrelenting, but it was his way of caring—his way of showing you that he believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.

And now...he was throwing all of that in your face.

His words cut deeper than you ever thought they could. He was attacking the very thing he had always defended you against.

The thing he had never let you believe about yourself. You weren’t in the hero course. You didn’t have a strong quirk. You weren’t like him.

Maybe you never would be.

The weight of his words pressed down on you, making your chest tight and throat constrict. You were so overwhelmed, so hurt, that you didn’t even notice one crucial thing.

He never said it.

Bakugo never said, “I don’t love you.”

But in your frantic state, your mind couldn’t latch onto that detail. Instead, it spiraled; twisting in on itself, unraveling every belief you’d ever held about his love for you.

Before I turn your heart into a ghost town...

Was everything he ever told you a lie? Was this how he truly felt all along?

'Was I just fooling myself this whole time?'

The thoughts came at you fast like a storm. Everything you thought was real—every tender moment, every quiet confession, every time Bakugo had pulled you close, even if he didn’t say the words outright—it all felt like it was shattering into pieces in front of you.

It was all too much. You couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t be here in this moment.

Not with him, not with those venomous words still hanging in the air between you.

Your vision blurred and you could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, threatening to tear you apart from the inside.

Panic set in. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Every part of you screamed to get out, to run, to escape.

'I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t...'

Before you knew it your hand was on the door, slamming it open with a force that rattled the frame.

Show me everything we built so I can tear it all down...

The sound echoed through the empty halls as you bolted, your sobs finally breaking free from your lips.

The world outside the classroom was a blur. Your tears streamed freely now, hot and stinging against your cheeks. You didn’t care who saw you.

You just needed to get away, to be anywhere but here. Suddenly, your shoulder slammed into something—someone—knocking you off balance.

You gasped, the impact jarring you out of your spiral for a split second.

Your eyes barely registered the green hair before you stammered out a tearful, jumbled, "S-sorry!" Your voice cracked by the sobs that you couldn’t control.

Down...

Down, down, down...

Izuku stumbled back wide-eyed in shock, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But before he could ask what was wrong, you were already gone.

His fingers brushed the air where you had just been, mouth opened as if to call after you, but the words never came.

He watched helplessly as you disappeared down the hallway, your sobs echoing behind you like the remnants of a broken heart.

His hand hovered in the air for a moment longer, his brows furrowing in concern. “Wha...?”

His gaze flickered to where you had come from, the half-open door to the classroom still swinging slightly from your frantic exit.

What the hell just happened?

With a sinking feeling in his chest Izuku slowly approached the classroom door. Peering through the half-open door, he froze.

Tear it all down...

Inside the empty classroom stood Bakugo. The blonde had his back to the door as stared out the window.

Izuku had known Bakugo for a long time. He’d seen him angry, frustrated, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. But this...this was different.

This time he was silent. Completely and utterly still.

“Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, quiet, as if he were afraid to break the silence.

Not receiving an answer, the freckled greenette took a cautious step into the room, one foot out just in case he needed to make a quick escape. “Why was ____ crying? Is everything al—”

“Izuku.”

Izuku’s words died in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. His name. Bakugo never called him by his real name. Ever.

Not unless something was really, really wrong.

Down...

Heart-broken, teary vermillion eyes are the first thing he sees.

“Y-Yeah?” Izuku stammered. He took another step forward, but he froze again when Bakugo finally turned around.

His face was twisted, lips trembling as if he were desperately trying to hold everything in. The raw emotion on his face—the vulnerability—was something Izuku had never seen before.

It was like looking at a stranger.

“Kacchan...” Izuku’s voice was barely a whisper. For a long moment, the two boys just stood there staring at each other in silence.

Izuku was in disbelief at the sight of Bakugo. His childhood friend, his rival, the one person he had always thought was untouchable—completely crumbling before him.

But the more time passed, the more Bakugo’s carefully constructed façade began to shatter. And then, with a strangled yell Bakugo folded in on himself.

His body shook violently as he hunched forward, arms wrapping around his middle as if he could physically hold himself together.

But it was no use. The dam had broken.

Down, down, down...

Izuku’s heart lurched in his chest, legs moving before his brain could even process what was happening. He rushed forward, catching Bakugo just as the blonde collapsed from the weight of his own emotions.

“K-Kacchan—Bakugo!” Izuku’s voice was panicked, his arms holding the teen to steady him, though he barely knew what to do. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Bakugo wasn’t supposed to break like this. He wasn’t supposed to fall apart. He was strong. Stronger than anyone.

And yet, here he was: trembling violently, sobbing uncontrollably in Izuku’s arms.

“I… I had to…” Bakugo choked out between gasping, shuddering breaths. His voice was barely recognizable, thick with pain and regret.

His hands clutched desperately at Izuku’s arms, as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I had to do it… I had to…”

Izuku tightened his grip, his mind racing as he tried to process what Bakugo was saying. “Had to? Had to do what?” he asked, his voice shaking as he looked down at Bakugo’s tear-streaked face, alarm written all over his features.

He’d never seen Bakugo like this—no one did.

Bakugo’s head fell forward, his messy blond hair shadowing his eyes as he gripped Izuku’s arms harder. “I had to let her go,” Bakugo rasped, his voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

“...I had to.”

I'll tear it all down...

[brotherwtf]

Did you see the new pics of Austin Butler as a bartender that just dropped? I know @anachilles has written Gale as a Bartender but after seeing those pics I want more !!

Burnt out Jhon going to the bar nearly everyday just to flirt with the handsome bartender. He sits in the counter every night and strikes up a random conversation. Gale tries to be professional at first but he also likes the company and they slowly become friends

OMG YES YES AUSTIN LOOKS SO FUCKING GOOD HES SO BIG IM TEARING AT MY WALLS

but yes @anachilles has so many fantastic scenes with bartender Gale (go read whiskey neat, coffee black, there will be homework) but I would LOVE to share some of my hcs for bartender Gale

but yes, John who goes to the bar every night to wash away the feelings of the day, maybe he's a burnt out football or baseball player (caught stealing? omg the parallels) who's just looking for a spark to motivate him to keep going on, and he finds it in the absolute unit of a bartender that had started working there

John can't stop looking at his arms when he's cleaning glasses or when he's wiping down tables, secretly wonders what they would taste like under his tongue, basically he just sits there the first couple of nights and ogles this bartender, can't keep his eyes off of him

one night, he asks John what he wants to drink and John responds stupidly with "something strong like you, you got a name along with your muscles?" and oh when he flushes? John could get used to this

every night he orders the same thing, three fingers of whiskey under the guise of something strong, and it loosens his tongue enough for him to strike up conversations with the bartender while there is a lull in customers

John learns his name is Gale and he just moved to Wisconsin from Wyoming and that he has a dog named meatball, but honestly John just loves to talk to him, even through a tipsy haze he can't get enough of the way Gale shakes his head every time John makes a dumb joke, the way he hides his laugh behind his hand when he doesn't want John to see that it's worked, God John thinks he's finally found something worth living for

Gale almost never gave in or acknowledged John's flirting, but a couple of times he'll respond with a flirty quip of his own and John will just be stunned into silence, left only with a dopey expression and a stupid smile on his face

John will stay until they close, often stopping after a few rounds of drinks and just likes to talk, likes Gales company, and Gale would be the last person to admit that he likes the company too

the first time they kiss is when John walks Gale to his car after his shift, insisting that he's there to protect Gale even though he's perfectly fine on his own. and even when they get to Gale's car they just kind of stay there, aren't really intent on going anywhere, don't really want to leave the other persons presence

Gale moves to get in his car but John surges forward, kissing him gently because he knows if he doesn't do it now he'll regret it forever. And Gale's shocked, but it doesn't stop him from pressing back into John's face and kissing him again

anyway, John still goes to the bar every night, but it's mostly just to see his boyfriend and drop things off for him, giving him a little kiss and telling him he can't wait for Gale's shift to be over so he can kiss him more (Gale absolutely loves it)

[yan-lorkai]

Since I checked that suggestive fic are fine could you write one for Jamil where reader has been pining for him for a long time but he is hesitant since he has Kalim to take care off and can't slack off or smth

Ignore if you want :) and sorry if I overlooked a rule!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've made you wait quite a bit, darling, but I finally finished writing this ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾. Though I let it end in a happy ending, originally it was going to end in a more bittersweet way. Either way, I hope you like it!

You had always known there was something about Jamil that captivated you, pulling you in with each passing day. He was more than just the stoic and responsible figure that stood in Kalim’s shadow. He was hardworking, kind and always reliable, traits that only made your heart ache with longing. For so long, you kept your feelings hidden, knowing he carried more responsibility than anyone should, but tonight, something in you snapped.

You watched Jamil move through the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of the day. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to tell him how you felt, even if you knew there was a risk he might push you away. He needed to know that there was he could lean on.

"Jamil," you called out softly, your voice barely carrying across the courtyard. His steps slowed, and he turned toward you, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes filled with that quiet exhaustion you had come to recognize.

You swallowed, nerves threatening to choke your words. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Jamil raised a brow, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered your courage. “I, uh… Well, Jamil, I like you. A lot. I know you’re always busy, taking care of Kalim, and I know how hard you work, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. I've been holding onto those feelings for a very long time.”

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil blinked, visibly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to hesitate, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

You pressed on, feeling your chest tighten. “I just wanted you to know. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I had to tell you how I feel.”

Jamil exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he watched you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to pull him back.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. Kalim needs me. I can’t let my guard down, even if it’s for something — someone — I care about.”

Your breath hitched at his words but before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Oh, come on, Jamil!” Kalim’s voice rang out from behind the nearby fountain, startling both of you. He stepped out from behind the marble structure with a wide grin, looking between you and Jamil like this was the best thing he’d ever witnessed. “I knew you liked them too! You don’t have to worry about me so much!”

Jamil’s eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kalim — what are you — how long have you been listening?”

Kalim waved off Jamil’s question with a laugh, completely unbothered. “Long enough! I wasn’t spying, I promise, but I heard some of what you said. Jamil, you work so hard, but you’re allowed to be happy too! I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.” He grinned, glancing at you. “And besides, I think they’d make you really happy, they always looked at you with such adoring eyes!”

Your heart fluttered, unsure of what to say. Kalim, in his usual cheerful way, had just dismantled all the walls Jamil had carefully built around himself.

“Kalim, it’s not that simple,” Jamil muttered, still looking flustered.

Kalim crossed his arms, his grin never fading. “It is that simple! You deserve to have someone who cares about you. I’ll be fine! And, you know, I kinda already figured you liked them.”

Jamil looked down, clearly battling with himself, but Kalim’s words seemed to have chipped away at his resolve. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and… something else.

After a long pause, Jamil let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I do like you. More than I’ve wanted to admit,” He finally said, his voice soft but sincere. “But I’ve always been worried that if I let myself have something for me, it’ll somehow mess everything up.”

You stepped closer, your heart swelling with hope. “You won’t mess anything up, Jamil. You deserve to have something for yourself, too. I’m not asking you to change anything — I just want to be there for you, like you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jamil looked at you for a long moment, and finally, his tense posture relaxed. He exhaled deeply, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Kalim clapped his hands, clearly thrilled with the way things were unfolding. “See? This is great! I’ll be fine, Jamil. You two go ahead and be happy together!”

Jamil shot him a look, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t promise I’ll always get it right,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “But I’ll try. If you’re willing to put up with that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth as you took his hand. “I’m more than willing.”

As you stood there, hand in hand with Jamil, Kalim grinning like he had just orchestrated the happiest ending possible, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, everything had finally fallen into place.

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 9

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You are trying to nativage how you feel about your and Elvis' night together, and it causes something to stir within Sonny as well.

TW: Swearing, heated arguments

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1796

A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than the last one, but I plan to make chapter 10 longer!

The world feels like it falls out from beneath you. You're falling, trying to clutch onto anything that can save you, but there is only darkness around you as you plummet towards the unknown. The world feels like it's spinning. You're nauseous, your head pounds.

Surging forward, you gasp for air. You instantly regret this decision, your head feels like it will split in two as a searing headache presents itself. You groan as your head falls to your hands, giving you deja vu. Then your blood runs cold, is it happening? Now? Are you traveling back to your own time.

"Honey, are you alright?" A grumbling voice calls from beside you.

Elvis' voice. Then you remember how much alcohol you drank last night. You almost laugh at yourself. No time travel, just a hangover.

"Yeah, sorry, I just had a bad dream. And I have a crazy headache," you laugh at yourself.

He chuckles, a croak in his voice.

"Yeah me too, my head is killin' me," he groans, his hands coming to wipe his face.

You realize you are still in the same position as last night, your body on his chest. You move stand up and get your clothes on when his arms come to wrap around you. You stop.

"Would you just wanna lay here for a minute? It's still early yet," he whispers, his lips coming to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

When he pulls away, his eyes lock with yours as he pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You smile.

"I had a really good time last night," he mumbles, hope in his eyes.

"I did too," you sigh, you hand coming to push his messy hair away from his face. "But..."

You pause. Maybe you could be with him, just for the time you are here. Would it really change much of anything?

"But," he sighs, his hand falling from your face.

His face falls into a frown. He knows what you are going to say.

"Elvis, I had a nice time, really. It was the first time I've had fun since I've been stuck here."

"Stuck?" Elvis remarks, his eyes coming to meet yours again.

You see hurt in his expression. It makes your heart sink.

"No! I didn't mean that. But, we shouldn't get used to this, right? I'm not even- I can't put my focus on this."

At this, he changes completely. His expression turns completely cold and closed off.

"Honey, I never said this was gonna happen again. Just had fun is all. Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to be my Goddamn girlfriend."

If feels like you've just been slapped in the face. Maybe you were stupid to assume he was implying he liked you. You thought that's how he felt, you're definitely developing feelings.

"Oh."

You can't think of anything to say, you're so embarrassed. Without looking at him, you get off the couch and grab your clothes, quickly throwing them on.

"Uh, gosh I didn't- I'm sorry. I shouldn't've said that."

You don't respond as he comes to grab his underwear pulling them up his legs. You try to avoid his eyes as you make your way to the stairs. You don't get far before he steps in front of you, making you stop. You look up at him.

"What?"

"I'm a- I'm sorry, honey. Can you forgive me? I really don't wanna stop spending time with you. I just, I don't like bein' rejected."

"I'm not rejecting you."

"But you don't feel the same way, that's rejection to me."

You sigh.

"I never said I didn't feel the same way, Elvis. I just- do you think it's a good idea?"

His hand comes to brush your hair, tucking the same strand that feel out again.

"I don't know. I know I don't want it to stop, though. We can...spend time together while your here. Maybe you can come see me in the future when you get back. My old man self would be so happy to see a pretty thing like you."

You have to stop yourself from lingering on your feelings, you don't want him to see how sad that statement makes you feel. You wouldn't be seeing him when you find your way back to your own time. You wouldn't see him ever again. You smile softly up at him.

"I would love to see you when I get back."

Taking your face in his hands, he leans down, softly connecting his lips to yours.

---

Sitting down to breakfast, it's hard to keep the smile from your face. Elvis keeps looking at you.

"Honey, can you pass me the salt please?" You look up as he gives you a mischievous look.

Rolling your eyes with a soft smile, you hand him the salt.

"Thank you baby. You're so kind," he purrs, not caring that there are two other people at the breakfast table.

Sonny clears his throat, looking between the two of you. A Silence falls on the group as you begin enjoying your breakfast. You wish you were closer to Elvis, to feel him beside you, but his position is across the table. Now seemingly so far away.

"(Y/N), I was thinkin' about going to the library later today. Would you want to go with me? Maybe return those books and get some new ones?

Pulled out of your thoughts, you turn to look at the source of the voice and see Sonny alternating between glancing at you anxiously and picking at his food.

"Oh! Uh I'm still-"

"When do you ever go to the library, Sonny?" Elvis interrupts, his gaze intent on him.

"Well I thought maybe I should start," Sonny shoots back, his eyes snapping up to Elvis.

"Hm. Okay."

Elvis starts picking at his food as well. You and Jerry are silent as you both watch the tense conversation. You can see the subtle signs of anger come to the surface of Elvis' face. Sonny doesn't seem to notice, or rather, care.

"What is that supposed to mean? I can't like the library?"

"Sonny, you can like whatever you Damn well please!" Elvis shouts suddenly, making your heart leap.

His eyes snap up to you as he sees you jump slightly. Elvis' looks softens.

"Man, can we just drop it? So you like the library now, that's great. If (Y/N) wants to go to the library, I can take her."

"Why, are you fuckin' her or something?"

Everything stops. No one makes a sound. Your stomach drops as your eyes dart over to Sonny, then Elvis. He looks as if he almost couldn't believe his ears. Sonny takes in the room as he realizes what a mistake he's made, until his eyes finally land on yours.

"I-I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean it like that. Elvis just fucks everyone so I thought-"

You don't hear the rest of his statement as your ears ring. Your shock turns to humiliation. You don't get the chance to respond as you look to Elvis, his eyes set on Sonny.

"Sonny, get out of that Goddamn seat. And don't call her honey again, you sonofabitch."

Sonny gets out of his seat, knowing better than to stay. But he looks back to Elvis, his face set.

"Oh, I see. You couldn't have stopped yourself one time, could you? Just one fuckin' time, E."

Elvis scrapes his chair on the floor as he stands up. For a second you think he's going to hit Sonny. You wouldn't blame him, you want to hit Sonny yourself.

"Sonny I'm not gonna fight you. Get the fuck out of this room."

It seems Sonny doesn't want to get hit today, because with a mutter under his breath, he storms away from the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in the room. You suddenly feel exposed, the statement Sonny made lingering in the air. You look to Jerry as he stands up as well, looking uncomfortable.

"Uh, I'll catch up with you later, Elvis," Jerry states awkwardly as he makes his way towards the door.

Elvis looks like he wants to ask him to stay but he lets him go, leaving just the two of you. Looking up at Elvis, he's already looking at you.

"I'm sorry, he's just mad cuz he likes you."

"I know."

It doesn't hurt less hearing that he sleeps with many of the women that come here. Are you just like those other women? Has he been sweet to them as well knowing it didn't mean anything?

"Baby."

"Yeah?"

"Are you upset with me?"

You look at him. A concerned expression plays on his face.

"No, I'm not."

"Because the girls I've been with, they've always known what it was. Whether it was serious or not. Whether it was a one night thing or not. I don't want it to be a one night thing, sweet heart."

You look at him from where he stands. You smile softly at him and see him relax.

"I know, Elvis. I'm not upset."

It's not exactly the truth, you are upset, but you still believe him.

"Well, alright then," he mumbles a little sheepishly. "Would you, uh- wanna finish breakfast together?"

You look to your barely eaten eggs, and realize how hungry you are, needing the nutrients from the alcohol you had last night. Your stomach grumbles as you nod your head. Picking up his plate from where he sits across the table, he scoots Jerry's plate from where it sits beside you, taking his seat.

"I'm thinkin' Jerry wouldn't mind to much if we switched spots. Sonny would pitch a fit. I'm sorry he acted like that."

You shake your head at this. A small part of you feels sorry for Sonny. You know what it's like to have feelings for someone who doesn't feel the same way.

"I understand him being upset," you respond, your fork poking at your eggs.

"He can feel any typa way he wants, but there's no reason he has to treat you that way. I woulda knocked his lights out if you weren't in the room."

You look to him, his his face blush with anger. Seeing him getting protective over you...it makes you feel a certain way. Safe. Certain. Aroused.

Blushing, you turn your attention back to your food, picking up the fork and biting down on the scrambled eggs.

"What?"

You look up into his eyes. He's looking into yours already, lingering.

"What do you mean, what?" you question, that same blush returning to your face.

"You went quiet. Did I say something wrong?"

You look away again, trying to hide your sudden embarrassment.

"No, you didn't."

You leave it at that as you enjoy your meal.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @goldobsessionsworld @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @father-of-2cats @sissylittlefeather @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted @bettybloopy

[dreamer1084]

Some Strange Feeling I found in Natsuyuu Ch.131

Ever since I finished reading this chapter yesterday, posted the spoilers here, went to bed and then got up to go to work, I have been having a strange feeling in my heart.

So I'm going to share about what makes me feel strange. Well, maybe I just think too much, but I don't feel comfortable without talking about it.

Spoilers under cut.

First, just like what I said yesterday. Natsume talked about things sometimes got weird at home with his expression nature.

Maybe he had finally gotten used to the fact that Youkai often come to Fujiwara's house. But just...not like that?

If there was really something strange at home, shouldn't he worry about the Fujiwara couple's safety first?

Than, in this page. I saw someone else mentioned that Tanuma's reaction was a bit strange. Personally, I don't think it's an issue. Maybe he just didn't understand cuteness well LOL

But the point is, when Taki asked Natsume who he wanted to give it to, this page does not directly say who. It is odd. Because Natsume wanting to give Touko-san a gift is not something that needs to be hidden. We readers understand everything. I think only a line of dialogue is needed, like "because Touko-san said she likes rabbits, I want to give it to her", it doesn't even take up much space. And Tanuma's respond also didn't have the subject ('who' will be happy?) , though it is normal in Japanese grammar. From the context of the context, we can assume that he wanted to give it to Touko-san. (And got another one for Shigeru-san) But why do the dialogue need to be hidden here?

Natsume thought that Sensei would catch mice. This did make me feel a little odd, but it wasn't really weird.

But the scene of Touko leaving the house should be on a different day than before ('I also have something to do today'). It's just the panels of this page that made me think it was the same day when I read it at first glance. There is no scene change from day one to day two. I don't think this is a storyboard(name) issue, maybe it's intentional?

.

OK, I am not saying Natsume in this chapter is not Natsume. But he felt too relaxed. Someone said the whole chapter is like in dreaming, I start feeling the same...

Or maybe I really just think too much.

[n-i-m-u-e]

The fucking absolutely wonderful cat! pt. 2

a few people here have asked about a sequel to this, and it's kind of, although it's not really a sequel to the Sir Pum story (sorry!), but rather a prequel from Luke's point of view (hence the stylistic difference with the first part) anyway-

The thing is, Luke wasn’t used to being alone. Life at Dragonstone was always bustling—he had training sessions with Jace and Daemon (even it weren’t very successful), lessons with maester Gerardys (much more successful), walks in the garden with Rhaena, and games of hide-and-seek with Joffrey (if he was persistent enough). He read to Aegon and Viserys (when he wanted to avoid active conversation), helped his mother with letters (she always praised his handwriting), and flew with Arrax (constantly losing track of time)…

He had never been alone.

And now everything had changed.

Now Luke was locked in the Red Keep; he was a prisoner, not free to go wherever he pleased or fly all day. He missed everyone terribly. And he was alone. In the first weeks, he didn’t see anyone except for the servants, who brought full trays of food twice a day and, almost just as full, took them away.

Everything began to change after that horrible incident with Helaena and the twins.

In the pre-dawn hour, Luke woke to footsteps and loud shouting in the corridor outside his door. The words were hard to make out, but even half-asleep, he unmistakably recognized the voices belonging to two people. Aegon was shouting, his voice trembling with rage, while the second voice responding to him seemed remarkably calm—it belonged to Aemond. This went on for several minutes, during which Luke tried to stifle his breath to catch any part of their argument, but the walls were too thick, and the door was locked, as always. It was clear that this was not an ordinary sibling quarrel, especially since they wouldn’t come to argue right outside his room in the middle of the night. Eventually, the voices began to fade away - Luke could not make out anything - and the boy could only toss and turn in bed until dawn in his anxious thoughts, sometimes falling into slumber.

That morning, at the usual hour, the door opened—the silent servants who usually brought Luke breakfast and warm water for washing entered, but the door didn’t close behind them, as a moment later, another person entered.

Aemond appeared in the room—calm, unflinching, and standing very straight with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression completely detached and cold. He waited until the servants set down the staff and left, shutting the door behind them. They were alone, and this was their first meeting since Luke had been locked away here.

“Last night, there was an attack on Helaena and the children,” Aemond stated, stubbornly ignoring Luke’s gaze and looking directly over his head.

Luke blinked in shock, as he didn’t immediately grasp the meaning of what he had just heard.

“What… Who?…”

“Your mother, apparently. Or Daemon… They sent people who attacked them, wounding Helaena and nearly killing Jaehaerys.”

“No… Mom would never order that…”

“Maybe not, but it was easier for them to get to my sister than to you.”

It seemed now Luke realized the reason for the shouts that had woken him earlier that morning. Of course, Aegon was furious. If something had happened to his son, it was unlikely Luke would have survived either. For a moment, Lucerys felt an irrational guilt that the people clearly sent by his parents to fetch him instead chose to threaten the most innocent—Helaena and her children—in this dreadful place. He had to remind himself that he was here against his will, and if it weren’t for his crazy uncle, the same one who so stubbornly refused to look him in the eye now, no one would have been attacked.

“I…”

“The palace guard has been doubled. And your guard, too. I personally chose the men for this.”

Luke understood this was a warning, but he wasn’t trying to escape anyway, even though perhaps he should have. But it was him—seemingly, he was indeed the coward Aemond undoubtedly thought him to be.

“How is Helaena? How—”

“You’ll ask her yourself. She’s been asking about meeting you from the start. My mother and I… decided it wouldn’t hurt. You can have lunch together… or something like that.”

With that, his uncle, with an uncharacteristic haste, left Luke, who didn’t even have time to open his mouth to ask anything else.

From that day on, Luke's routine improved a bit. He began to see Helaena and the little ones regularly. They walked together in the garden after breakfast every day, and those moments brought Luke a sense of normalcy. His silent aunt was much better company than the chaotic swirl of sad thoughts in his head. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera reminded him of Aegon and little Vyserys, though they were much quieter children than his younger brothers. Sometimes he also visited the library—of course, under the watchful eye of the guards—but he could choose books he liked on his own. For some reason, these were usually the poetry collections loved by Rhaena or the same fairy tales he had read to Aeg and Vis.

There was another change, the strangest one. For some unknown reason, he now also saw Aemond almost daily. No, all of his uncle’s visits had some logical reason: checking on Luke’s guard, relaying some minor news, or simply claiming 'had some free time to see my nephews'. Luke hadn’t considered himself among the latter until one day, Helaena, without looking up from her embroidery and with a dreamy smile, remarked in her soft, quiet voice:

“I welcome this wonderful change, brother. It’s nice that a man who recently found solace only in swords and books is now getting much more joy from living company.”

Aemond mumbled something unintelligible in response to her words, then nearly left the garden in a rush. However, Helaena didn’t seem flustered. Even more, as far as Luke could tell, his aunt seemed somewhat amused.

“He’s so confused. Give him a time, Lucerys.”

Luke was also confused but didn’t ask her what she meant. Helaena often spoke in riddles and rarely answered direct questions.

And yet, every time Aemond was nearby, a strange tension hung in the air. At first, it was because Luke instinctively tensed up—after all, this was the same man who had captured and imprisoned him here. But later, when Luke, with surprise and disbelief, realized that his uncle’s presence was becoming less unwelcome, that in some ways—even more than his time with Helaena—it eased the loneliness that had haunted him in the early days at the Red Keep, the tension took on a different color.

Because from time to time, when they accidentally forgot about the awkwardness that usually lay between them, they ended up having quite interesting conversations. And, to his secret delight, Luke discovered that he knew Valyrian far better than his uncle. At first, he almost couldn’t resist teasing him—just like he would with Jace when his brother made a mistake in pronunciation or mixed up words. But then a memory of that fateful dinner surfaced, and what his careless attempt to provoke his uncle into “contact”—as he usually did when Jace became overly and unbearably serious—had led to. Luke had somehow assumed that Aemond, who appeared so strong and unshakable, wouldn’t be truly bothered by his foolish mockery. He should have known better—he didn’t.

But the most wonderful thing, if such a sentiment could be expressed regarding anything about Luke’s time here, happened after he met the cat.

He knew from the maids that Aegon had executed all the castle's rat catchers because one of those who had attacked Helena was allegedly a rat catcher. Well, if anyone benefited from this, it was the rats. So on Sir Otto's orders, several dozen cats were brought to the castle. And from the moment Luke was allowed to leave his chambers, he noticed small, fluffy shadows in the corridors out of the corner of his eye. But none of the animals approached him. Until one stormy morning.

The weather had been raging since late in the evening, and Luke didn't really want to wake up. Because bad weather meant that he and Hel would not go to the garden, it meant that he was unlikely to leave his room at all today.

Through his sleep, Luke felt a strange, warm weight on his legs. At first, before he was fully awake, he thought he was just tangled in the blanket, but after a moment he realized that the weight was suspiciously “alive.” Sitting up on his elbows, Lucerys saw that a large cat was lying on the edge of the bed, right on his feet, calmly licking his paw. Luke froze, looking at the strange visitor.

The cat was large and massive, with long reddish fur, a lush mustache, and one eye. And that eye, a deep green crystal, looked at Luke intently, showing neither fear nor curiosity.

Luke slowly sat down and, just as slowly, moved his legs out from under the cat. The cat didn't move, only lazily raised its head, as if assessing whether this sudden movement was worthy of attention.

“Where did you come from?” Luke muttered, trying to cope with the morning hoarseness in his voice and his own surprise.

The cat only moved its ears a little. There was something soothing about the creature, something that reminded Luke of home, even though they had never had a cat there. And though the cat was a far cry from a dragon, its presence was surprisingly comforting, and a bit like how Arrax had felt.

Luke tried to gently reach out to pet the animal, “Well, the cat didn't lose its eye because of you, so it's unlikely to overreact to an attempt to get close,” he thought ironically, but stopped when he considered the wild look in its single eye and the sharp claws he had already noticed.

“Okay, okay. Then I won't touch you,” he calmed quietly and lowered his hand back down.

Suddenly, the creature jumped onto the bed next to him and rolled over. Luke stared in surprise. The cat was looking at him with the same calm gaze, now more inviting, and he saw a playful twinkle in its eye.

“You mean I can?” - he asked timidly, and the cat immediately rolled over on its side, exposing its furry belly. Luke still touched the soft fur lightly.

The cat did not move away or run away. On the contrary, having sniffed Luceris' hand, he purred softly in response to the light stroking and lay down on his (licked) forelegs. As he buried his fingers in the warm and soft fur, the boy suddenly felt a tingling tenderness. It was nice to have someone around who didn't care who Luke was.

As he continued to pet the animal, the young prince allowed himself to smile - this quiet interaction with this creature, for the first time in a long time, made his morning almost happy.

“Will you stay?” Luke asked in a whisper, not expecting an answer. The cat just yawned and stretched out on the bed, taking up even more space.

That was the answer.

I had time to write only late night, so there are definitely mistakes here somewhere, and if you can point it out or maybe just want to say me something else, I will be grateful :)

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

An Analysis of Gman in Half Life: Alyx

HL:A Gman is by far the most interesting version of Gman I've seen and I've noticed so many details in his one interaction with Alyx, to the point I needed to make a full post about all the bullet points. (Note that this is MY personal interpretation, so it could be different from what was intended or what other people believe)

Starting from the very beginning, when Alyx asks whether Gman is Gordon Freeman or not, he responds in a kind of. Condescending way.

It's almost like he's amused by the fact he was mistaken for Gordon. not to mention the use of "Imprison" in the statement, almost as if he's not only making a snide remark towards Gordon, but also implying that even he sees Gordon's employment as "imprisonment". Not to mention the implication that it really does not take that much to hold Gordon captive in one way or another. Could also be literal, meaning Gordon isn't near powerful enough to require a full Vault be built around him.

A: "So. Who are you?"

Alyx asks a very simple question cause. why wouldn't she be confused? She expected a super-weapon; she expected Gordon Freeman, so when she found nothing but a man in a suit who straight up scoffs at the misunderstanding, of COURSE she'd want to ask questions. However, Gman only responds with:

Gman deflects the question, but rather than completely ignoring it, he simply leads it into a new question: "What can I offer you?"

He guides the conversation to a different topic, luring Alyx away from questioning who, or what, he is, whether it's because he doesn't want to (or can't) give an answer, or if it's because he simply wants the conversation to move forward rather than being caught on the nature of Gman himself.

G: "Some believe the fate of our world is Inflexible. My Employers disagree."

This statement is funny in an ironic way. he states that fate is flexible and can be changed, yet. When was the last time Gman didn't have full say on what can and will happen? By making everything go a very specific way, you CREATE fate.

G: "They authorize me to… nudge things in a particular direction from time to time. What would YOU want nudged, Ms. Vance?"

The use of word "Nudge" is an interesting way to describe changing things within the timeline. though something else that's interesting is his facial expressions during this moment.

He looks almost. Kind. but in a forced sort of way. It feels like he's expecting a certain answer from Alyx, and is just waiting for her to say it.

However, when she says she wants the combine off earth, his expression changes.

The change in expression implies that Alyx's answer was not the one he wanted or hoped for. Thus, he once again ignores what Alyx said and gives his own reasons for it.

G: "Ahhh. That would be a considerably large nudge. Too large, given the interests of my employers."

Rather than giving Alyx a second chance at a more reasonable request however, he instead says:

G: "What if I could offer you something you don't know you want?"

It finally clicks together why Gman's there: To make a deal. Whatever Alyx said before this moment was completely irrelevant. No matter what Alyx requested to have "Nudged", he would have brought up his own offer. He had already mapped out how the conversation was going to end even before Alyx had even begun speaking to him. It was just a matter of getting there.

Gman showing Alyx her fathers death was an intentional and targeted choice. Alyx is a little more naïve here than she is in HL2, not to mention her close relationship to Eli. Eli is one of the only people she has left at this point in her life, so. Why wouldn't she want to save him? This is exactly the reason Gman chose this event in particular above anything else, because he knew it was an offer Alyx would NEVER say no to. He knows Alyx more than she knows herself, and had already predicted the outcome of the situation. So, understandably, Alyx kills the Advisor in place of her father's life.

This line. This line is so interesting to me in particular. Rather than describing Eli as a "person" or "human", and describing the dead Advisor as something "alien", he refers to both as "entities." almost as if he sees both of them on the same wavelength of sorts. It implies Gman sees no difference between a human and an animal, or alien of some kind. Sees them all as simply that. Entities.

Yet another example of Gman deflecting the questions given to him, guiding the conversation instead towards Alyx herself.

G: "A previous hire has been unable — or unwilling — to perform the tasks laid before him. We have struggled to find a suitable replacement. Until now."

Him referring to Gordon in this way is interesting to me. Was the sudden wish to drop Gordon from employment due to the Vortigaunt intervention in HL2 Episode 1? Was it because Gordon was truly incapable of fulfilling certain "tasks"? Or maybe it was because Gordon was not as vulnerable to Gman's influence? It's unclear, and it's also not clear whether this means Gordon is fully free of Gman's control or not.

At this point it's made crystal clear that Alyx killing the advisor in place of her father was a contract she was signing, one she didn't even know she held the pen to. This was always going to be the outcome of the interaction, since the beginning. Everything Alyx had done up to that point was to help Gman and his "Employers" get further in their goals now that Gordon was deemed "Incapable". Nothing that Alyx could have done would've mattered; her "fate" was decided from the beginning.

Overall what I gather from this ending is a lot about Gman as a character. He never truly lies, yet he purposefully leaves out important details, such as the fact that reversing Eli's death wasn't without a price. He manipulates the conversation to fit his wants and needs, ignoring direct questions he sees as unimportant to his goals. And the thing is, he does it in a way that Alyx doesn't even seem to notice. He has played this game so many times that he knows exactly what moves to play. He knows the people he talks to more than they know themselves. He uses their worst fears against them to make them go to him for safety.

Judging by the things Gordon survived in Black Mesa, you can gauge he had a strong will to survive. So what better to do to seal a deal than to threaten that life he cares so much about? To tell him that the only other option was to go under Gman's employment else he face death itself? Alyx had such a strong connection to her father, so what better to do than to tell her that Eli will die if she doesn't do anything, luring her in to sign a contract without even knowing what she was signing?

Gman is a master manipulator, no better words for it. And he always manages to do it in such a way that you can barely even notice it happening. He never raises his voice. he never shows irritation or hostility aside from only one instance. Because why should he be frustrated? He's won even before the game started. And honestly that is frightening to me, cause it shows that he's done this many times before and knows just how to get what he and his "Employers" want, regardless of how it effects other people.