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inseobts · 1 month ago

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Hey Princess pt.1

zoro x fem!reader

part 2

you find freedom, love, and a true family among pirates—only to risk everything, even your life, to protect them from the chains of your past.

words count: 4.2k

tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, banter, mystery backstory, angst and fluff

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea glows soft and orange under the sunset. The Thousand Sunny cuts through the waves like it’s dancing. Luffy leans over the railing, grinning like a kid with candy.

“She’s cool, right?” he says.

Zoro crosses his arms and stares at you with one eyebrow raised “She hasn’t said ten words since she got here.”

“I’m observing.” you answer, voice calm. You stand straight, posture perfect, one hand lightly on the sword at your hip. Not because you plan to use it yet, but because it’s habit. You were trained that way.

“She’s mysterious!” Luffy laughs “That’s perfect for a spy. I always wanted one of those on the crew!”

You look over your shoulder at him “I’m not a spy.”

“But you sneak around like one,” he says “You climb walls and vanish. That’s spy stuff.”

You sigh “That’s just training.”

“Same thing.”

Zoro scoffs “Spy, huh. You look more like a princess pretending to play ninja.”

You stiffen. It’s small, but Sanji notices.

“Don’t talk to her like that, mosshead,” he snaps, stepping between you and Zoro with a hand on his chest like a knight “She’s a lady.”

“She’s hiding something” Zoro mutters.

“And you’re hiding brain cells” Sanji shoots back.

You sigh again and turn toward the door to the girls’ quarters “I’m going to unpack.”

As you leave, Zoro’s voice follows “See you around, Princess.”

You pause, just for a second. But you don’t look back.

Later, after dinner, Nami leans on the table, watching you clean a dagger with a white cloth.

“You’re really good,” she says “Where did you learn that?”

You smile “Somewhere far.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I know.”

Usopp leans closer “Are you like… an assassin? Or like a ninja? Or—”

“I’m just me,” you say “I help people. When I can.”

Robin smiles softly “That’s vague. I like it.”

You return the smile. Nami doesn’t press. Not tonight.

Outside, Zoro trains on the deck. You watch him from the shadows of the upper floor. He moves like a force of nature. Sharp. Focused. Angry.

He pauses. Looks up “Enjoying the show?”

You step into the light “You make too much noise for a swordsman.”

“You sneak too much for a crew mate.”

You raise an eyebrow “Not everyone needs to swing swords like a caveman.”

Zoro smirks “Still think you’re too fancy for this crew?”

“No,” you say “But maybe you are.”

He laughs once “I’m not the one with perfect hair and manners.”

You smile politely “Maybe you should try both sometime.”

His grin widens “Sure, Princess.”

Your smile fades “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he asks, wiping sweat from his face “It fits.”

You don’t answer. You just turn and leave.

Inside, Sanji greets you with tea “You okay, mademoiselle?”

You nod “Just tired.”

He watches you a little too long “If he bothers you again—”

“I can handle it.”

He nods. But you can tell he still wants to say something.

You go to bed and stare at the ceiling. You hate that nickname. You hate that it still hurts.

But tomorrow is another day. Another show. Another fight.

You’ll stay calm. Classy. Like always. And maybe Zoro will stop... Eventually.

Right?

It’s been three months.

Three months of shared meals, sea storms, and late-night watches under the stars. Three months of hearing Luffy laugh so loud it shakes the whole ship, of Sanji offering you tea every evening, and of Zoro calling you Princess every damn day.

But now, when he says it, you roll your eyes instead of going quiet. And you call him something back.

“Hey, Princess, your fancy dagger’s missing. Lose it in your closet full of gowns?”

You glance up from the map you’re helping Nami mark “Careful, Muscle-for-Brains, I might mistake your head for a training dummy.”

He smirks like it’s a compliment “You’re starting to sound more like a pirate.”

“And you’re still sounding like a caveman” you shoot back.

Usopp snorts from the side “I give it a week before one of you throws the other off the ship.”

Franky whistles “I give it three days.”

Zoro sits down across from you like he’s making a point “Bet you still sleep sitting up like some stiff little soldier.”

“I’ve seen you nap in the crow’s nest with your mouth open like a confused seagull” you fire back.

“Oooooh!” Luffy howls with laughter “She got you, Zoro!”

You smile. Not perfect. Not practiced. Just real.

Time passes and you start laughing more. Playing cards with Robin and Nami. Racing Chopper through the ship. Letting yourself eat two slices of cake, not one. You wear your hair messy sometimes. You yell when Luffy breaks the kitchen door again. You fall asleep in the sun with a book on your chest.

And it feels… good.

Even if the past still taps on your shoulder sometimes, like a shadow you can’t shake.

It’s a quiet night when you and Zoro end up on watch together. The sky’s clear. The stars are sharp.

You lean against the rail. He sits nearby, sword across his lap.

“You always this serious when it’s your turn?” you ask.

He shrugs “I take my job seriously.”

You glance at him “Didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t expect you to stop walking like a statue” he says.

You laugh under your breath “Statues don’t trip over Luffy’s sandals.”

“You did?”

“I absolutely did.”

You both fall quiet for a minute.

Then he asks, “Why do you hate it?”

You look over “What?”

“The nickname. Princess.” His voice is steady, not mocking.

You stare out at the waves “Because I wasn’t one.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t look away either.

You add, softer, “Not even close.”

Another pause.

Zoro finally says, “Well. Now you just sound like a gremlin with good posture.”

You huff “Thanks, Seaweed Samurai.”

“New nickname, huh?”

You smirk “You started it.”

Zoro shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Just a little.

You let the silence stretch after that. But this time, it’s comfortable. Not perfect. Not polished. But real. And maybe real is better.

The Sunny rocks gently on calm waters, shining through golden light. The crew’s loud somewhere probably arguing over snacks or music, but you’re on deck, stretching after training.

You reach up, arms high above your head. Your shirt lifts slightly, damp with sweat.

“You always do that in front of people, or am I just lucky?”

Zoro’s voice comes from behind you.

You don’t turn.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Seaweed” you say coolly.

“Didn’t say I minded the view” he mutters.

You do turn at that, raising an eyebrow “You watching me, Zoro?”

He shrugs, resting against the mast, towel slung over his shoulder “You’re hard to miss. Always moving around like a damn cat in silk.”

You walk past him slowly, purposefully “Careful. If you keep paying attention, you might fall in love.”

He scoffs, but something flickers in his eyes “Yeah? Then what?”

You pause beside him, eyes narrowed “Then we have a problem.”

He leans closer, voice low “I like problems I can fight.”

You smile sweetly “You’d lose this one.”

“You sure about that, Princess?”

The name doesn’t sting like before. Not now. Not when it rolls off his tongue like a dare.

“You know,” you murmur, stepping in close enough to brush shoulders, “you keep calling me that like it means something.”

“It does,” he says. His tone is light, but his eyes aren’t “Means you’re trouble wrapped in expensive taste.”

“And you’re what? A blade with no brain?”

“Damn right” he grins.

Your lips twitch.

The air between you hums. Too hot for the distance. Too close for comfort.

Then someone yells.

“LUNCH!”

Zoro steps back, breaking the tension “You coming?”

You arch a brow “You offering to carry me there, swordsman?”

He smirks “Please. You’d stab me for touching you.”

“…Maybe,” you say, already walking past him “Unless you asked nicely.”

Zoro chuckles under his breath, following you toward the smell of Sanji’s cooking.

Neither of you says it, but it’s there, building, beneath the insults, behind the banter. It's something hot, something sharp, something waiting.

The new island is small but full of noise. Music drifts up from the port, and colorful flags wave in the wind. Luffy’s already halfway down the dock before anyone can stop him.

“Let’s split up!” he shouts “Find meat!”

Nami sighs “He means food and information. Let’s go.”

Everyone starts filing off. You linger on the deck.

“I’ll stay behind...” you say lightly “Someone should guard the ship.”

It’s too casual. Too controlled. And it’s not like you.

Zoro notices first. Sanji notices next. Then Robin. Then everyone. But only those two speak.

Sanji steps toward you, soft and sweet “Ma chérie, I’ll stay. I don’t trust this island either.”

You force a smile “Sanji… they might need you for supplies.”

He hesitates. You never push him away, not like this.

Then Zoro’s voice cuts in, low and lazy “Didn’t you hype up the food here all morning, curly-brow? Go drool over a buffet or something. I was planning to nap anyway.”

Sanji frowns “You? Volunteering?”

Zoro shrugs “Less talking, more walking.”

You glance at Zoro. He’s leaning on the railing, looking like he couldn’t care less. But you see it in his eyes, he does. He’s not tired. He’s not bored.

He just didn’t want to leave you alone.

You nod once “Thanks.”

And then you go inside.

Hours pass. The ship is quiet. You sit in your room for a long time. Not reading. Not training. Just… sitting.

Eventually, your stomach grumbles.

You make your way to the kitchen, silent as ever.

There’s a plate waiting for you. Still warm. Covered gently with a cloth.

You blink at it.

When did Sanji even…?

You smile, small but real. You grab the plate, then pause. Maybe…

You carry it up to the deck.

Zoro’s sitting with his back against the mast, one leg up, one arm resting lazily on his knee. Eyes open. Bored.

“Nap’s over?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t move “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Liar.”

He smirks “Didn’t want to dream about curly-brow feeding seagulls again.”

You chuckle and sit down beside him, cross-legged.

“I brought food.”

“Thought you said you were guarding the kitchen like a dragon.”

“Even dragons eat.”

You hand him half the plate. He doesn’t say thank you. He just takes it, like it’s normal now. Like you are.

You both eat in silence for a bit. Then you nudge him with your foot.

“Wanna play something?”

He raises an eyebrow “Like what?”

You think. Then smirk “It’s called One Truth, One Lie.”

He looks suspicious “Sounds dumb.”

“Chicken?”

His eye twitches “Fine. Rules?”

“I tell you two things. One is true. One is false. You guess which is which. Then you go.”

Zoro snorts “You made that up just now.”

“Maybe… or maybe not.”

He leans back “Alright. Try me.”

You grin “Okay. First round: I’ve stolen a crown before. And… I’ve kissed a prince.”

Zoro narrows his eyes at you “Stealing sounds like you. Prince kissing? Too much sparkle.”

You give him a look “Wrong. I kissed a prince.”

He coughs “What?”

You grin “I stole his crown after.”

Zoro stares “What kind of missions were you on?!”

“My turn’s done.”

He shakes his head “You’re insane.”

“You’re stalling.”

He rolls his eyes “Fine. I once drank thirty beers in one night. And… I can play the shamisen.”

You blink “You? Play an instrument?”

“Make your guess, Princess.”

You squint at him “The beer one’s true. No way you’re musical.”

Zoro smirks “Wrong.”

You gasp “You don’t drink like a tank?”

“Oh no, that part’s true. I just also play the shamisen.”

You blink “You’re messing with me.”

“Swear on my swords.”

You laugh, head shaking “Okay. Next round.”

You both go back and forth. The questions get bolder. The lies get riskier. The truths get more intimate.

You’re both smiling too much.

Then he says, “Last one. I call you Princess because it annoys you… and because it doesn’t suit you at all.”

You pause “And the other option?”

“I call you Princess because it annoys you… and because it suits you more than you think.”

Your heart trips a beat.

Zoro’s watching you now. Really watching. His voice is low, but not teasing.

You look at him, try to read past the usual smirk “The lie is that it suits me.”

He stares at you a moment longer.

“Wrong again.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

So you look away. And laugh. Softly “That’s cheating.”

“Don’t like losing?”

“I don’t like being seen.”

“I like watching…” he says as if there was something more to that phrase. As if he actually wanted to day “I like watching… you”

“Then if I was you I’d use my good eye to watch something more interesting.”

“There’s none.”

You blink at the surprise of that answer and then reply “There’s way too much actually.”

He doesn’t respond. But the silence is different now. Not heavy. Just… full.

You stay like that, side by side under the stars, the empty plate between you.

Staring softly at each other, and for once, you don’t feel like running from the quiet.

It happens fast.

One moment you’re finishing the last crumbs of food with Zoro under the stars, still warm from laughter and the closeness you’ve been too scared to name.

The next, the ship shudders.

BOOM.

Smoke. A cannonball explodes against the sea just yards away from the Sunny.

You both stand instantly.

Zoro unsheathes Wado Ichimonji without a word. You pull two blades from your thigh holsters.

“Marines,” Zoro growls, already scanning the distance “Too close.”

You nod “Too fast. We need to leave the island.”

He turns to you “Go get the others.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, eyes sharp “Go. We can’t take them all without the crew.”

You take a step forward “I’m not leaving you alone—”

“I’m not alone,” he snaps “This is a delay squad. I’ll handle them. But if you don’t bring the others back, we’re all screwed.”

Your hands tighten around your blades. You hate this. But he’s right.

You nod once, heart pounding “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Not planning on it, Princess.”

You hesitate at the nickname. His voice is tight, focused, not teasing this time.

Then you run.

You’re halfway to the port when it happens.

A young marine stumbles out from behind a cart, gun raised, shaking slightly. He’s too fresh. Probably new. Definitely not ready.

He sees your face and freezes.

“…Princess Y/N?”

You stop.

Time stops.

Your blood turns to ice.

Zoro’s voice calls from behind “Oi! What did he just call you?”

Before the boy can speak again, Zoro’s blade is already on him. He hits the marine hard and fast—non-lethal, clean, efficient.

The boy crumples.

Zoro’s breathing hard now. He looks at you “Go.”

You don’t move.

“Go!” he barks.

You run.

You find Sanji first.

He’s flirting with a waitress, of course. But one look at your face and he’s dead serious.

“Trouble?” he asks, already cracking his knuckles.

“Marines. Zoro’s holding them off. We have to go. Now.”

“On it.”

He grabs your hand, not romantically, just tightly, and you sprint together. You find Luffy, Chopper and Brook next, then Nami and Robin shopping for books and jewelry.

Jinbe’s the last. He’s speaking with a merchant about fish when Sanji nearly drags him mid-sentence.

Back to the ship. Fast. No time.

The battle’s already started when you return. Smoke. Screams. Blades. Zoro is fighting six marines at once, shirt ripped at the side, blood at his temple.

But he’s still standing. Of course he is.

Sanji launches into the fray, kicking through two men with one move. Jinbe bellows like thunder and slams into a marine squad. Nami brings down lightning. Brook sings a haunting note that freezes the air. Robin grows arms and breaks weapons. Chopper hulks out and punches straight through their front line. And Luffy is Luffy of course.

You fight too, elegant and brutal. Quick and precise.

You don’t look like a princess now.

You look like a weapon.

Eventually, the last marine ship flees.

The Sunny sets sail fast, with Franky shouting commands and everyone catching their breath.

You finally sit. Arms shaking. Blood drying. Exhausted.

But you feel his eyes.

Zoro stands a few feet away, arms crossed, a new bruise on his cheek.

His gaze is not angry. Not smug.

Just… focused. Tight.

He’s thinking.

You look down at your hands.

He starts walking toward you.

You panic.

“I’m going to bed” you blurt, already turning.

“Wait—”

You don’t.

You walk away before he can say what you know he wants to.

Because that word the marine said "Princess Y/N" wasn’t a joke.

It was your name.

And Zoro just found out that he’s been teasing you with the same title you’ve spent your whole life trying to escape.

You’ve mastered the art of avoiding him.

For days, you change your training hours, your nap spots, even your routes to the kitchen. Zoro is a hunter by instinct but you’re trained to vanish. And for now, you’re winning.

The rest of the crew, though? They’re not blind.

Brook whispers to Robin, “The lovely lady keeps dodging the swordsman. Ah… the rhythm of tension, yohohoho.”

Chopper tilts his head “Are they mad at each other? Should I make tea?”

Even Luffy notices “Hey, why don’t you and Zoro fight anymore? I liked the yelling!”

Nami gives you a sharp look every time you enter a room and Zoro leaves it or the other way around.

Still, no one says anything outright.

Until the morning she does.

“Mail’s here!” Nami calls, flipping through the newspaper and a thick envelope dropped off by News Coo “Looks like updated bounties—oh.”

She goes still.

You pause at the edge of the deck, where you’re pretending to study the sea charts.

“What is it?” Robin asks, sipping tea beside her.

Nami turns the paper around. Slowly.

Your face stares back.

Not the one they know now, no. The one from before. The mask you buried.

Perfect hair. Polished clothes. A cool, too-composed stare.

Above it: “WANTED – PRINCESS Y/N OF VIRELIA – 300,000,000 BERRIES”

Below it: “ONLY ALIVE.”

The world stops.

Luffy blinks “Wait. Princess? That’s not—like—Zoro’s joke, right? OMG they heard Zoro adìnd thought he was being for real??”

Sanji’s already walking toward you, newspaper clenched “Y/N. What is this?”

You don’t answer.

Your feet feel heavy. Like someone chained your ankles.

Franky whistles low “Only alive? That’s a weird order.”

Jinbe looks serious “That bounty… is political.”

Robin’s eyes are on you now, soft but sharp “You ran from something powerful.”

And then Zoro walks in, towel around his neck, sword at his hip.

He stops mid-step. Sees everyone circled. Sees you. And the poster in Nami’s hands.

He says nothing. But his jaw tightens.

He looks right at you. Like he already knew… but needed to see it.

You meet his eyes for the first time in days and you want to disappear.

So you run.

The moment you meet Zoro’s eyes and see the weight behind his silence, your feet move on instinct.

You don’t even realize you’re breathing hard until the door slams shut behind you.

Your room is dark, lit only by the sea-colored light slipping through the porthole. You lock the door, press your back against it, and slide down slowly to the floor.

You hear voices outside.

Sanji: “What the hell is that bounty about—”

Nami: “Did she really—”

Brook: “A real princess? How poetic!”

Chopper: “Should we check on her?”

Then Luffy’s voice cuts through everything. Loud. Sharp. Final.

“Leave her alone.”

Silence.

You close your eyes. That was Luffy’s captain voice. The one no one questions.

Time passes. You don’t move. You don’t cry either, you stopped doing that a long time ago.

Then… a soft knock.

You freeze.

Then, gently “Y/N, it’s me.”

Sanji.

You unlock the door slowly and open it a crack.

He’s holding a covered tray, the smell of your favorite dish escaping into the room.

“I figured you wouldn’t come out to eat,” he says softly “Can I… come in?”

You nod.

He steps inside like he’s entering a shrine. He doesn’t push. He sets the tray down on your small table and gives you space.

You sit opposite him, quiet.

“You knew” you say.

“I knew something,” he replies “Not this.”

He lifts the lid of the tray. Steam curls up, warm and fragrant.

You don’t eat right away.

Sanji watches you for a second, then leans back “You know… my poster once said Only Alive, too.”

You look up.

He smiles, but it’s not a happy one “Back then, I thought it was funny. Felt like a joke. But the truth? Someone out there wanted me under their control. Wanted me alive so they could put me back in a box I crawled out of.”

You stare at him.

He gives a small shrug “I’m not saying I know what yours means. But that look in your eyes? I’ve worn it.”

He pauses “I also know what it feels like to run away and finally be free, only for the past to reach out and grab your ankle again.”

Your throat tightens.

Sanji doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask. He just watches you like you’re something delicate but not weak. Like he understands what silence can mean.

You nod, just once. Barely. But it says everything.

He stands slowly “I’ll leave you to rest. There’s no pressure, Y/N. Not from me. Not from the crew.”

He heads to the door, then stops. Opens it.

You hear it too late. The sound of boots.

Zoro is standing right outside.

He doesn’t look surprised.

Of course he was listening.

Sanji steps out, lowers his voice “Don’t hurt her.”

Zoro’s eye narrows “What the hell do you think I’m gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Sanji says, calm but firm “But I saw your face when you saw that poster with that name. And I know yours isn’t just about teasing anymore.”

Zoro doesn’t answer. He just watches Sanji walk away, slow and deliberate.

He turns his head toward your door.

Still closed.

Still locked.

And on the other side, your hand is still resting against it. Holding it shut.

You can feel him there. But you don’t open it. Not yet.

You sit at the edge of your bed, tray balanced on your lap.

Sanji’s food is still warm. Perfect, even hours after it was made.

You take a bite.

It’s just rice and meat, just seasoning and sauce, just something meant to bring comfort... but your throat closes anyway.

You chew slowly, blinking. Another bite. Another wave of heat but not from the food, but from something buried so deep inside you that you forgot it could still rise.

And then the tears come. Quiet. Stubborn. They roll down your cheeks with no sobs, no drama.

Just… exhaustion, guilt and shame.

You’re not the person on that poster anymore. But the world doesn’t care. It still sees the crown they forced on your head.

Outside your door, Zoro hears the sound of your breath hitching. He hears the scrape of the tray, the stifled sniff, the silence that wraps around.

He doesn’t say anything.

He just stays seated, back to the wall across from your room. Elbows on his knees. Fists tight. Jaw locked.

He doesn’t knock. Doesn’t ask to come in.

But he stays.

Minutes pass. You eat. You cry. And finally…

You open the door.

It’s quiet. Careful. Like you might change your mind.

He’s the first thing you see right there in front of you, still sitting like a sentinel. His eyes snap up when the light hits his face.

You stop in the doorway. Neither of you speaks.

Then, slowly, you reach down.

You take his hand.

Zoro doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t joke. Doesn’t move. Until you tug lightly.

You don’t have the strength to pull him up but he rises anyway. Not because you can force him, but because he lets you. Because he wants to.

His hand is warm. Rough. Bigger than yours. You keep holding it as you guide him down the hall.

He doesn’t ask where.

He just follows.

The kitchen is full.

Luffy is chewing meat with his usual noise. Nami is nursing a drink, eyes sharp. Robin has a book open. Brook is playing soft notes. Chopper’s legs swing from a chair. Franky and Usopp are arguing about cola refills.

But when you enter, silence falls like a curtain.

Every head turns toward you, and toward your hand still laced with Zoro’s.

Zoro stiffens slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t even look confused, just still. Focused. Watching you.

You feel every stare in the room. But for once, you don’t shrink under it.

You just walk over to the table and sit down.

Zoro sits beside you. His calloused hand holds yours beneath the table, unmoving, steady.

You’re not sure why you started holding it. You’re even less sure why you haven’t let go.

The others don’t ask questions. But they’re waiting. Gently. Silently. Like they’re giving you the space you need to begin.

Your eyes stay on the table.

On your joined hands.

“I’m a real princess.”

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honey-pages · 7 months ago

Text

The Hexstrap - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor gifts you something special to use on him.

3.0k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. Pegging. Sub Viktor. Dom Reader. NSFW.

“I have something for you.” Viktor tells you, shyly, “though it’s not really a present.”

He hands you a long, black, silky rectangular box. He places it in your hands, and you find it to be quite heavy. You start to lift the lid.

“Not yet please.” His voice trails, “Maybe after tonight?”

“Sounds good to me,” You reply, although a little curious about what could be in the box.

He had planned a date for tonight at a cocktail bar in the city. They supposedly served the best experimental cocktails in Piltover. It was a new location for you and Viktor, and you wondered what kind of drink he would order. You had a few more hours before you were due to set out, giving you time to bathe and get ready.

Viktor kissed you passionately, a preview of what may happen tonight. You are already feeling worked up and excitable, you consider it may be a good idea to release some of your built-up lust before you go. Though what could be better than sitting in a classy bar, sipping a cocktail on the arm of one of Piltover's greatest scientists. With a promise of what usually happens after your dates, you begin to feel weak already.

“I need to prepare for later.” Viktor smiles, “You look outstanding. Jealousy is not my fashion, though I think everyone there will be watching you.”

“I’m not even dressed; this is just flattery.” You smirk, pulling him in closer. He kisses your forehead, and you tilt your head upwards to catch him on his lips. You kiss more deeply, sliding tongues over one another, until you realise you are standing in the hallway outside of your room.

“Do you want to come in?” You offer suggestively.

“Tempting me again?” He scoffs.

His tone makes you snort. “Tempting you? You come here looking like that, bringing me a present, and are expecting me to not offer you inside”

“I have been considering giving you that for some time. Your reaction is untested. Will you leave it here for us to come back to later?” He asks.

“Whatever you say - but you really don’t have to worry about my reaction Viktor.”

He looks relieved and slightly flushed. As you say your goodbyes until later, you watch him as he walks away. When he thinks you aren’t looking, he rearranges himself. It makes you proud to see him dishevelled. You turn back to your room, making a plan of action. You need to be getting showered, dressed and prepared. You look over your room and decide to give it a quick clean as you and Viktor planned to be returning here. What time will you be back? Will you be out all night with him? You weren’t sure. To think of Viktor in the outside world, let alone a cocktail bar, felt alien. It was rare he had the time. That’s why this was so special to you, Viktor had planned it.

You look over at the box and think over what he has said. He was so insistent; it must be something special. You pull the cocktail menu out of your bag- Viktor had passed it to you earlier.

You go through the motions of preparation. Your shower was hot and steamy, on exiting, the clothes you had laid out for yourself felt soft and warm on your skin. Everything felt so right. You quickly did a cleaning sweep of your room, picking up any rogue items and tidying away any clutter. It isn’t that Viktor would mind, it’s just a personal preference. You place the black box on your pillow and finding a clean towel, you place it next to it - it’s always good to have one on hand when you are alone with him. The thought gives you butterflies. You daydream about what will happen when you return.

There’s a knock at the door and you glance over at your clock. It is near enough time to leave. You open the door to Viktor and are completely swept away. He looks sharp, sophisticated. A clean dark suit, burgundy undertones in his usual fashion, polished shoes and bouquet in his hands of red roses. He had matched exactly what you were wearing unintentionally, complementing each other perfectly.

“You look outstanding.” He hands you the roses. “You really are something (Y/N).”

You invite Viktor inside, finding out a vase for the roses, filling it and arranging them gently. He spots the towel next to the box.

“You opened it?” He asks, hurt.

“What? No, why do you think I opened it?”

“The towel.”

“I just thought we would need one later.”

He looks relieved. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse. I assumed with the towel- I’m a little on edge about what your reaction may be.”

“Viktor, whatever you show me will be fine.”

“I am not used to being vulnerable. I have never explored that side of me.”

You hold him tightly, reassuring him.

“We are going to have a great time tonight.” You look into his eyes, “We will drink and laugh and then, we will come back and open the box - and everything will be fine.”

He hugs you tighter.

The cocktail bar was a dark and smoky place, it hosted a cushioned seating area, central stage and booths lining the outside walls.

“I have a reservation.” Viktor states to the door staff.

You are led through the bar, alive and seductive with jazz music, to a small booth on one of the back walls. It is quieter there and looks as though it is usually reserved as a fancier seating arrangement.

Viktor prompts you to choose your preference in seat. You choose the left side, and he sits in the right. The chairs have high backs, enclosing you within the darkness of the booth. You pick up a menu from the table.

You ponder the choices for a second. Viktor doesn’t drink much, almost never. He looks confused but excited.

“I have never tried anything like this before.”

You decide on a drink.

“Had any thoughts while I’ve picked mine?” You ask. You place your foot against his under the table.

“Hex on the beach? I didn’t think Hextech had such reach.”

“I suppose you kind of have to pick that one Vik, it’s made for you.”

Viktor calls over the serving staff and politely puts through your order. You talk over Viktor’s work and your research, your leg trailing up his calf.

“You look so beautiful tonight, (Y/N).”

Your cheeks redden, “Well, I had to put some effort in, knowing I’d be on your arm.”

“Why is my arm such a great thing to be on?”

“…You are quite literally in the cocktail menu. Your arm is infamous Viktor.” You explain, he’s clueless as to how recognised he is for his great work. “But in my opinion, your arm is the second-best thing of yours to be on.”

His one foot is nudging yours in reciprocation, a hidden language under the table. It rides up and up. He slides forward in his chair to reach for your hand, holding it on the table. His knees are brushing yours, threatening to nudge open your thighs.

Your drinks arrive. The ‘Hex on the Beach’ is a slightly purple shade thanks to the blue curaçao mixing with the cranberry, somewhat different to the shade that the hex core actually is. Viktor notices the difference but says nothing. When he swirls the drink in his hand it shimmers like the light and sparks of the core. He takes a sip and is pleasantly surprised at its sweetness. Your drink tastes heavenly also and you take the time to swap and try each other’s to better inform your second drink. The drink portions are small but in artsy places like this they usually are.

You talk as you sip. As you progress through the drink you feel lighter and lighter, your body feeling a little unfamiliar. Viktor is surprisingly untouched by his first drink, but his second, the ‘Amarekko Sour’ feels more substantial. He feels like he has the sudden desire to confess his feelings for you, over and over. His knee, more adventurously, hikes higher, spreading your thighs apart slightly.

“I love you.” He spurts. This was not the first time you have heard this, but it is still a rare revelation which he does not usually confess.

“I love you too.” You reply. Your surroundings are woozy, but you focus in on Viktor’s face.

There is silence for a while. All of your thoughts have been vocalised and you are comfortable to just stare at each other in your tipsy daze.

“Beautiful. Beautiful.” He rests his head on one hand, his face in his palm. “I have always thought you were the most beautiful person I have ever set my eyes on.”

“Oh, Viktor you are so sweet.”

“No, I mean it. Really. You are everything to me. You mean the world.”

You order one more round of drinks and head off. The night feels alive. It’s not even that late, but you and Viktor are so unused to drinking that three was enough to have you sufficiently drunk and insatiably horny. On the way home, you stumbled along to multiple different dark corners, finding places to steal kisses and grope each other. You were like two drunk teenagers.

“I need you.” He murmurs every time there’s an alley.

“Come have me.”

You embrace, desperately kissing, touching and feeling, before moving on. The cocktail bar was only a short walk but with all the detours it took you much longer.

“I’m so hard for you, (Y/N), all the time. You don’t even realise. I need you.”

You giggle, “Viktor, I’m right here.”

“No, I need you.”

“Viktor.”

“Inside of me.”

You are a little confused.

“Inside you?” You ask. “Like sexually?”

He sobers up a bit and worries he has said the wrong thing.

“…yeah.”

You think for a moment.

“Viktor, I will give you anything you ever ask for”

He kisses you with double the passion, unleashing every bit of his love and affection at your acceptance of him. You manage to get back through the large building, foyer and hall to your room. At the door, he pins you, hands grabbing at you through your clothes, needy and desperate.

You almost fall through the door as you open it.

You stumble together to the bed, Viktor laying on his back, with you on top, messily kissing, and touching and undressing in such a rush to be rid of the restraints of your clothes. In the scramble for grip on the sheets, your fingers find the black box. You sit upward, straddling his hips. You hold the box in your hands and he watches you from beneath.

“Can I?” You ask

He nods.

You undo the silky bow keeping the lid fixed tight. Wiggling the lid side to side to loosen the friction, you pull upwards and remove it. Fixed in the soft settings of the box is a dildo and some sort of strap attachment.

“It’s for your hips” He suggests, folding up the straps to show you his work. “This fixes onto here, like this.”

He demonstrates the contraption, placing it together. Its beautifully crafted and its clear he has spent time on it.

“How long did this take you to make? “You asked. It is perfectly weighted, the curves smooth and built to feel good. You slot the contraption together.

“It was an ongoing project. I had to work undisturbed… It’s measured to me. The Hexstrap.”

You come off him and stand up, admiring the shape and length, it was familiar.

“I’ll get myself ready for you.” He states, getting up and walking to the bedroom.

You strip off your clothes. Slipping your legs into the straps, raising it up your thighs and fixing it to your waist. It felt odd having the extra weight and tilted balance. You admired the way it looked in the mirror in the corner of your room. It really was measured to him. You find out some lubricating oil from your dresser. You used it when things took a rougher turn with Viktor. Most of the time he liked to take things slow and steady, though sometimes he would allow himself to get harder and rougher.

He was always a caring partner though; he loved aftercare and foreplay rather than the mindless thrusting that came with the middle of the encounter. You had never really been in control sexually. So often when you intended to be dominant it would end in you being on the bottom. Viktor walked out of the bathroom naked. You admire him completely; his form and his body were perfect to you. When you looked at him you saw your loving partner, not just the parts that made him.

The oil had warming properties and helped sooth any friction caused by fast motion. You wanted him to be as comfortable as possible, especial considering the amount of trust it had taken him to open up about what he wanted. You tried to emulate the things he did to make you feel comfortable and safe.

“Come lay on the bed Vik.” He watches you intently.

“It looks so good - to see you with some of me.”

He’s hard. Instantly upon seeing you. It’s not that he didn’t feel that way before, it just feels so special to him right now. He was pushing the maximum of his body’s capabilities concerning blood flow, he could feel himself straining and needing a release.

He walked towards you, placing down the prepared towel, sitting himself in the middle of it.

“I have never done this before.” He admits.

Seeing him like this, naked and sheepish twisted something inside of you and you felt a strange urge to comfort him, look after him, be gentle and caring- but also to take him, have him, make him crave you.

“Neither have I.”

You thought back to how he handled you on your first time. He had reassured you, familiarising you with what was about to happen. He prepared you, warmed you up and teased you so that your worries about the experience were melting and replaced with need and want.

You pour some of the oil into your hands, warming it up between your fingers.

“Lay on your back.” You kiss him as he leans back, initially propping himself up on his elbows, then lowering them to be completely flat. You climb onto your hands and knees over him.

You lather the oil over his inner thighs, it feels warm against your hands. Viktor relaxes into it, sinking into the bed. You use it to coat his cock, swirling your hand around to cover the whole of him, sometimes gently swooping down to cup at him. His skin is shining under the oil and softening. You use your other hand to create similar movements over the hex strap, ensuring it will glide easily. Viktor is twitching with desire, his cock moving on its own in response to your touches. Almost like the Hexstrap is linked not only in resemblance but by touch.

He whimpers, “Please touch me.”

You increase your speed. “So good for me, Viktor, you are a natural.”

You tease your hand downwards to test his reaction to you getting closer to his entrance, he arches upwards.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

“Please, I’m scared ill- ill finish before you are even in.”

Viktor desperately thrusts into the air in an attempt to find friction. His moans and whimpers are explicit, his accent thick and heavy. You add more oil to your hands and place your fingers against him. He follows them with his hips.

“Ready?”

“Please”

You enter him and he cries out in pleasure. You take your other hand and clasp it around him, stroking him slowly in time with your fingers. You add another and he ruts pathetically. You take time stretching him and warming him up.

“I want the- “He struggles with his words, his hands snaking a clasping and unclasping in the bedsheets. “-the Hexstrap.”

“Say please Vik. I want to hear you.”

“Please (Y/N).”

He sounds so heavenly.

“You want your own creation inside of you Viktor, look at how desperate you’ve become.”

You line up the hexstrap and push inside. It fills him completely. It is strange to see how a complete replication of him slots in perfectly. His cock begins to drip prematurely. You take it with the rest of the oil, using it to stroke him faster and faster.

He is moaning loudly and without care, rushed expletives and begging and your name- all combines to a completely sinful sound.

“(Y/N), I’m going to- “He trails off, cut with his own shouts.

“You are going to finish all over yourself?”

Your words undo him, and on only the fourth thrust with the hexstrap he finishes, spurting in thick ropes over himself. You put a residually oiled hand over his mouth, smothering him. He writhes in his pleasure, legs shaking. Even through your hand, you hear your name over and over.

You wait for his cool down, watching as he slows his movement, chest heaving ceasing. You flood his forehead with kisses.

“You did so good for me Vik. You look glorious.”

He smiles. He’s an absolute mess. The bed is a mess. You are a mess, hands slick and sweaty skin.

“I need to finish you now” He panics, realising he hasn’t even touched you this evening.

“Viktor, I think you need to cool down first.”

“I don’t think I can fuck you (Y/N). I think you’ve finished me; I’m drained.”

He holds you tight and close, whispering words against your cheek. His looks into your eyes, then down your body to the hexstrap - still inside.

“Mine may be out of business” he jokes, “but I have a spare that I may be able to make use of.”

Tag List -

@veru-boom, @gubkkki

#arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor lol #viktor arcane #reqs open #request

776 notes · View notes

oldsoul007 · 4 months ago

Text

save a horse

cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

summary: what started as a frustrating, never-ending rivalry with Joel Miller—his reckless riding, his cocky smirks, his infuriating ability to get under your skin—turned into something else entirely. Something you couldn’t control, couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried. Because beneath all the fighting, the competition, and the stubborn pride, there was heat. And once you gave in to it, there was no turning back.

a/n: “rivals” to lovers, banterrr, cocky Joel, suggestive scenes, heavy kissing, Joel calls reader princess and darlin’

joel miller masterlist

There’s a fine line between love and hate, and Joel Miller lived on the other side of that line—just far enough to keep me from crossing it. Every time I saw him, it felt like that line was being tested, stretched tighter and tighter, as if we were both stuck in some kind of wild tug-of-war.

I had my life all planned out. The pristine, polished world of show jumping and barrel racing was where I thrived. Clean, controlled, the kind of competition where technique and precision mattered more than the mess. I rode with grace and poise—everything about me screamed class and focus.

Then there was Joel.

Joel was the kind of cowboy who thrived in the dirt. The rougher, the better. He was known for his wild, reckless rides—bareback bronc riding, calf roping, and the like. He didn’t care about the mess. He thrived on it. He loved the mud, the sweat, the adrenaline of it all. He reveled in the chaos, and I couldn’t stand it.

We met at a local rodeo competition one fateful evening. I was there for the barrel race, wearing my pristine boots and jacket, my hair perfectly styled beneath my hat. Joel was competing in the rough stock event, his face covered in dust and grit, his clothes stained with sweat. He had the audacity to walk past my stall just as I was prepping my horse.

“Hope you’re not planning on getting too dirty in that competition,” he smirked, his voice low and mocking. “This ain’t your kind of rodeo, y/n.”

I shot him a sharp look, barely containing my irritation. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion, Joel.”

He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re a little uptight, aren’t you? I’d hate to see you get all flustered in the dirt. You’ll never make it through the next round.”

I could feel my pulse quicken with a mix of anger and something else—something I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe you should stick to your rough events. Let the classy riders handle the rest.”

He leaned back, eyes narrowing, his lips curling into a smirk. “Classy, huh? Well, you better hope you can handle a real challenge when it comes your way.”

I was ready to snap back, but I didn’t have time. The announcer called for the next round, and I needed to focus. I shot him a glare before walking away, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.

The competition was intense. Every part of me focused on executing each turn, each jump, with perfection. I had trained for years, and it paid off. My time in the barrel race was top-notch—clean, precise, with every second of the run perfectly controlled.

But as I crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted in applause, I spotted him again. Joel was in the middle of his calf roping event, the exact opposite of what I’d just done. His horse was galloping full speed toward a runaway steer, and I couldn’t help but watch. He was all muscle and grit, moving with an ease that looked almost reckless. His rope flew through the air, securing the steer in one fluid motion, and the crowd went wild.

I hated that it was impressive. I hated that it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the competition.

Afterward, I found myself near the stables, cooling down my horse when Joel appeared again, this time covered in more dirt than ever. His shirt was half undone, his hair sticking out in every direction.

“You know,” he said, walking up to me, “you were pretty impressive out there.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to remain composed. “You’re just trying to be nice because you lost.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver through me. “I didn’t lose. But I’ll admit, you made it look easy.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Well, I don’t roll around in the dirt for a living.”

Joel’s eyes glinted. “I’ve never been afraid to get dirty. Guess that’s what makes me better at what I do.”

I looked him up and down, shaking my head. “You’re just a mess, Joel. There’s no finesse in what you do. It’s all chaos.”

“Chaos is how things get done,” he said, stepping closer. “Everything has to be perfect for you though, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what makes me a winner.”

He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting into a grin that made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t control. “Funny. I think we both know it’s not always about perfection.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool. “Maybe. But at least I’m not playing around with danger and risk every second. I’d rather be classy than reckless.”

Joel’s smile faltered, and for a second, I thought he might actually take offense. But then he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “You know, y/n, maybe one day, I’ll show you how much fun it can be to throw caution to the wind. You might surprise yourself.”

I shook my head, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. “Don’t hold your breath, Miller.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us palpable. The air crackled with something that wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t quite attraction either. It was something in between, something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

“Alright, princess,” Joel said, his voice softer this time. “You keep riding your pretty little circles. I’ll keep riding the rough stuff. But don’t forget—when you’re ready for a real challenge, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned, leading my horse back to the stables, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks and the pulse of excitement that had nothing to do with the competition.

Joel Miller was chaos. He was everything I wasn’t. But somehow, despite myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were both waiting for the inevitable clash. And when it came, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

I don’t know what it was about Joel Miller that set my blood boiling—maybe it was the way he always had to have the last word, or maybe it was the fact that he rode like a reckless idiot and still managed to win. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand him.

And yet, I couldn’t seem to avoid him either.

“Careful, princess,” Joel drawled one afternoon as I tightened Maple’s saddle before practice. “Wouldn’t want you breakin’ a nail before your big fancy event.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to keep my focus on the leather strap in my hands. “And I wouldn’t want you falling off your horse and bruising that oversized ego of yours,” I shot back sweetly.

Joel smirked, leaning against the stall with that insufferable confidence. “Darlin’, I don’t fall.”

I finally turned to look at him, crossing my arms. “No, but you sure like to run your mouth.”

He grinned. “And you sure like to pretend you don’t like it.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Yeah? Then why do you always find me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You find me, Miller.”

He took a step closer, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Right. And you’re always right here, ready to argue.”

I hated that he was right. I hated that he knew exactly how to get under my skin, knew exactly what buttons to push.

And worst of all, I hated that I liked it.

Every run-in with Joel was like this—an endless cycle of back-and-forths, teasing jabs that always left me flushed, irritated, and on edge. He was rough and reckless, all dirt and sweat and wild confidence, while I was polished, precise, and disciplined. We weren’t supposed to mix.

But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering beneath every argument, every too-long glance, every time he leaned in just a little too close, like he was daring me to cross that line.

And maybe, just maybe, I was getting closer to doing exactly that.

—

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the rodeo grounds, the smell of dirt and hay thick in the air. Most of the competitors were unwinding before the next round, tending to their horses or grabbing something to eat.

I had been brushing down Maple when I heard a small voice nearby.

“Can I pet him?”

I turned, curiosity piqued, and spotted a little boy standing a few feet away from Joel and his horse, Ford. The kid couldn’t have been older than six, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking on his heels like he was nervous.

Joel, who had been adjusting Ford’s saddle, turned to look at him.

For a second, I expected him to wave the kid off. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm.

But instead, Joel crouched down to his level, resting his forearm on his knee. “Yeah? You like horses?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “He’s big.”

Joel chuckled. “Yeah, he is.” He reached up, giving Ford a firm pat on the neck. “But he’s a good boy. You wanna sit on him?”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Joel nodded. “C’mon.”

The boy practically bounced in excitement as Joel lifted him up with ease, settling him gently on the saddle. He kept a firm hand on the kid’s back, making sure he was steady, while Ford stood still, completely unfazed.

The boy grinned wide, gripping the horn of the saddle like he was ready to take off. “I’m a cowboy now!”

Joel chuckled, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. “That’s right, little man.”

And damn it if my heart didn’t melt right there.

I had seen Joel Miller in plenty of ways—cocky, infuriating, reckless.

But this?

This was new.

He was gentle. Patient. And watching him interact with that kid, making his whole day with nothing more than a simple ride, did something to me that I really didn’t want to think too hard about.

I must’ve been staring too long because suddenly, Joel’s eyes flicked up and locked onto mine.

The smirk came back instantly, like he could sense the effect he had on me. “What?”

I rolled my eyes, quickly turning back to Maple. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

“Shut up, Miller.”

But as much as I tried to ignore it, the image of Joel smiling up at that kid, looking so damn soft, was burned into my mind.

And for once, I didn’t hate it.

—

The day was winding down, the sun sinking lower in the sky, and the arena was quiet except for the faint rustling of hooves and the occasional call from the crowd. The final competition was just around the corner, and I was out on the practice field, determined to get in some last-minute work before everything went down tomorrow. Maple was calm as always, and I was focused, running the barrels with precision and grace. Every turn was tight, every motion measured. I was in control, just like I always was.

But the world has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it.

I had just completed my last run when I heard a sudden, sharp sound from the far side of the arena. At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I saw the flash of a calf breaking through the fencing, charging across the field at full speed, clearly startled and out of control.

I instinctively pulled on Maple’s reins, trying to guide her out of the way, but she was spooked, her head shooting up as she began to buck and rear. The calf was moving fast, its hooves pounding the earth, and Maple, already skittish, couldn’t seem to calm down.

“Maple, whoa, easy girl!” I shouted, trying to get her back under control, but the harder I tried, the more she panicked. I was losing my grip, my heart racing as I struggled to hold on. The cow was heading straight for us now, and Maple was getting more and more frantic.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, pulling harder on the reins, but nothing worked. I was completely out of control, the adrenaline surging in my veins as Maple bolted, jerking me to the side. I could feel the ground beneath me shift, my grip slipping, and then—without warning—Maple’s leg caught on something, and she pitched forward, throwing me off.

I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs as pain shot through my back and shoulder. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t respond, the pain paralyzing me as I gasped for air.

“Y/n!”

I heard a voice—Joel’s voice—shouting through the haze.

Before I could even react, I felt the ground shift beside me. Joel was there, dismounting Ford and rushing over to me, his face a mask of concern, his eyes wild.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice rough as he kneeled beside me. His hands hovered over me, unsure of where to touch, and I saw the rare flicker of concern in his usually confident gaze.

I tried to push myself up, the pain from my shoulder shooting through me. “I’m fine,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “I don’t need your help.”

Joel’s expression darkened, and his hands moved to my shoulders, gently forcing me back down onto the ground. “Don’t move. You’re not fine.”

I glared at him, the frustration bubbling up again. “I said I’m fine, Joel. Just… just go away.”

“Please just stop being so damn stubborn.” His voice was harsh, almost angry, but not with me—more with the situation, with how I was refusing help when I clearly needed it. He wasn’t joking now. “I’m just trying to help you.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the pain in my shoulder was too much, and I winced, the sharp sting cutting off my words. My breathing was labored now, my heart still pounding in my chest from the chaos of the moment. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, me lying in the dirt, Joel kneeling beside me, both of us breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline.

“Look, I don’t need you playing the hero,” I managed to mutter, trying to sit up again, but Joel gently pushed me back down.

“I’m not playing anything, y/n. You can’t even move. I’m not going to leave you out here alone just because you’ve got too much pride to admit you’re hurt,” he said, his tone firm, but underneath, I could hear the edge of concern. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

I glared at him, but the frustration I felt earlier melted into something else—a mix of embarrassment and anger. He wasn’t wrong. I had to admit, I had overestimated myself, and now I was paying the price.

“Fine,” I muttered, still struggling to sit up, but feeling the weight of the pain in my body. I could barely lift my arm without it aching. “I guess you’re right. But don’t think I’m going to thank you for it.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk returning, but it wasn’t as cocky as it usually was. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just making sure you don’t make it worse by being stubborn.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but another wave of pain shot through my shoulder, making my breath catch. I grimaced, closing my eyes. “I’m not stubborn,” I managed to mutter, my voice strained. “I just don’t like being treated like I can’t handle things.”

Joel’s expression softened, just slightly, and for a moment, I saw something else in his eyes—something genuine, not the usual teasing or arrogance. “I get it. But sometimes you need help. And it’s okay to accept it.”

I swallowed hard, the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck, but I couldn’t argue with him. I was hurt. I couldn’t handle everything on my own, and right now, I really did need him.

“Just help me up,” I finally muttered, my voice quiet, but there was a hint of surrender in it now.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, carefully pulling me into a sitting position, his hand firm on my back as he steadied me. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft now. “We’ll get you back to the stables and make sure you’re okay.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, the rush of the competition, the pain, and Joel’s unexpected calm all mixing together in a way I wasn’t sure how to process. I hated needing help. I hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone like Joel. But as he gently helped me up and guided me back to safety, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry anymore.

Maybe, for once, it was okay to let someone else take charge. Even if that someone was Joel.

Joel guided me carefully back toward the stables, his arm lightly supporting my back as I limped along beside him. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and I was starting to realize just how badly I had underestimated the situation. Maple had finally calmed down, now tied to the post a few yards away, but my head was still reeling from the chaos, the fear, and the sharp ache that spread from my shoulder down my side.

Joel’s grip on me was steady, strong, but not intrusive—just enough to keep me from stumbling. He kept his pace slow, making sure I could keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a seriousness that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything.

When we reached the stables, he led me to a bench just outside, carefully helping me sit. His hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment, the touch gentle yet reassuring. I looked up at him, surprised by how quiet he was. Usually, he would’ve been making some sarcastic comment or teasing me for getting hurt, but now he seemed… concerned. In a way I hadn’t expected.

“Stay put,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down to inspect my shoulder. “I’m going to grab the first aid kit. You’ll be fine.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure about that. The pain had dulled a bit since I sat down, but it still throbbed with every movement. I wanted to argue, to tell him I could take care of myself, but at this point, it seemed pointless. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was stubborn just to prove some point.

Joel disappeared into the nearby barn and returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. He knelt down in front of me, his eyes scanning my shoulder, and I could see him evaluating the injury carefully. There was no arrogance now, no cocky humor. He was all business.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he muttered, gently lifting my arm to get a better look at the injury.

I winced, trying not to flinch, but the pain was undeniable. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing my voice to sound dismissive. “Just a little bruise. I’ll be fine.”

Joel didn’t buy it. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. This could be worse than it looks.” He carefully started cleaning the area around the bruise, his touch light but deliberate, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injury. “You always act like you don’t need anyone’s help. But it’s okay to admit when you’re in trouble.”

I gritted my teeth at his words, but there was no edge to his tone—just quiet honesty. I didn’t want to admit that he was right, that maybe I had been pushing myself too hard lately, that maybe I had been too proud to ask for help. But it was hard to keep up the act when he was standing there, so close, so damn calm.

“I don’t need a lecture, Joel,” I muttered, trying to shift my position slightly.

His hand paused as he looked up at me, his eyes catching mine. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t make it worse. You can’t keep pretending like you’re invincible. You’re not.”

The words hung in the air between us, and for the first time, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me. I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to admit that maybe I had been running on empty for far too long, that maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Not with him, not with anyone.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know what happened back there. It’s like I lost control for a second.”

Joel didn’t respond immediately. He finished cleaning the cut and then started wrapping it in gauze, his movements methodical and practiced. I had expected him to make some quip, to tease me for showing weakness, but instead, he was quiet—focused.

When he finished, he finally looked up, his expression softer now. “It happens to the best of us. You got scared, and that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, y/n.”

I met his gaze, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. His sincerity was something I hadn’t expected, and it threw me off more than I cared to admit.

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the quiet rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the rodeo grounds. I could feel the tension between us, still hanging in the air, but now there was something different about it—something that wasn’t just about competing, or winning, or proving who was stronger.

“Thanks,” I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I didn’t expect you to… actually help.”

Joel gave me a dry chuckle, sitting back on his heels. “Don’t go thinking this means I’ve gone soft, darlin’. I’m still gonna beat you tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but smile, the familiar banter easing the weight of the moment. “You’re still insufferable, you know that?”

His grin returned, that cocky edge creeping back into his voice. “And you’re still stubborn. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Makes the competition interesting.”

I shook my head, but this time, there was no animosity behind it. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—maybe even gratitude—for the way he’d handled this.

“Just don’t think you’re getting an easy win,” I shot back, feeling a hint of the old spark return. “I’m coming for you.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, his eyes glinting with the usual challenge. “Bring it on. I’ve been waiting for you to step it up.”

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness between us, the rivalry still there, but tempered by something new. Something I didn’t quite understand, but I was starting to admit I didn’t mind.

Joel stood up, offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the bed and breakfast and take it easy for the rest of the night. You’ve got a competition to win tomorrow.”

I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him help me up. The steady warmth of his grip was comforting, and I couldn’t ignore the way my pulse quickened with his touch. There was something about Joel—something that pushed all my buttons, something that made me want to keep fighting and keep running, but also, maybe, something that made me want to stay.

I brushed off the thought, refusing to let it linger as I walked beside him back to the stables. There was still a competition to prepare for, after all, and tomorrow, I’d make sure he knew that I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The morning buzzed with the smell of fresh coffee and bacon as I walked into the small dining room of the bed and breakfast. Most of the rodeo crowd was already there, gathered around wooden tables, chatting between bites of biscuits and gravy.

Still half-asleep, I grabbed the nearest cowboy hat from the rack by the door and plopped it onto my head without thinking.

I didn’t realize my mistake until I felt the weight of a stare burning into me.

Slowly, I looked up—right into the amused eyes of Joel.

He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, that damn smirk creeping onto his face. “Mornin’, princess.”

I blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Joel tapped his fingers on the table, clearly enjoying himself. “That your hat?”

I frowned, reaching up to tug it down more firmly—only to freeze when I realized it wasn’t mine.

It was his.

I had grabbed Joel’s hat.

Before I could rip it off my head, he tilted his head, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear. “You know what they say…” His smirk turned downright sinful. “Wear the hat—“

“Don’t.” I yanked the hat off my head and smacked it against his chest before he could finish that sentence.

Joel just chuckled, gripping the hat with ease, his fingers brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary. “Hey, no need to be shy about it. Could’ve just told me you wanted—”

“Don’t even start.” I huffed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading straight for the other side of the room, ignoring the way my face burned.

“Hey, wait,” Joel called after me, and despite every bone in my body telling me to keep walking, I paused.

His voice was quieter now, a little more serious. “How’s your shoulder?”

I blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeated, leaning forward with that same familiar, cocky grin, but his eyes—there was something softer there. “Y’know, after that little run-in with the calf yesterday. Didn’t want you to use it as an excuse when I beat you later.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the unexpected flutter in my chest. “It’s fine. Barely hurts.” I squared my shoulders just to prove the point. “And I’m still competing, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Joel chuckled, tipping his hat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

Even with my back turned, I could feel his eyes on me.

And worse?

I wasn’t sure I hated it.

Competition day always had a certain energy to it—electric, tense, buzzing with anticipation. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the rodeo grounds, the air thick with the scent of dust, horses, and sweat. The crowd was already gathering, and the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, calling out the lineup for the day’s events.

I should have been focused. I needed to be focused. But, of course, Joel was making that impossible.

“You nervous, princess?” His voice came from behind me, slow and smug as I checked Maple’s saddle one last time.

I exhaled, gripping the leather a little tighter before turning to face him. “Not in the slightest.”

Joel grinned, standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, looking like he hadn’t lost a wink of sleep over today’s competition. Unlike me, he didn’t believe in overpreparing or second-guessing. He just rode, wild and free, as if the rules didn’t apply to him.

“You sure?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’ve been triple-checking that saddle for the last five minutes.”

“Maybe I just like to be thorough,” I shot back.

Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, walked up just in time to witness our usual back-and-forth. He clapped Joel on the shoulder, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, do y’all ever stop?”

“Nope,” said another voice—Kailen, my best friend, who had been standing nearby, watching with barely concealed amusement. She raised a brow at me. “You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the announcer’s voice rang through the speakers, calling up the tie-down roping competitors—Joel’s event.

Joel shot me a wink. “Guess we’ll have to finish this conversation later.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered as he strolled off, exuding nothing but confidence.

Joel went first. I watched from the sidelines as he rode out with Ford, moving like they were one body. He chased down the calf, lassoed it with effortless precision, and leapt from his saddle in one fluid motion.

The crowd roared as he finished his tie-down in record time, standing back with that damn smug expression as if he knew he was the best.

Tommy whistled from beside me. “Damn, he’s gonna be impossible to deal with after that one.”

Kailen nudged me. “You good?”

I forced myself to unclench my fists. “Fine.”

I wasn’t.

Because the second Joel met my gaze from across the arena, his smirk turning into something slower, something challenging, I felt my stomach flip in a way I really didn’t need before my own event.

It was my turn.

The crowd was still buzzing from Joel’s performance, but I didn’t let it distract me. I mounted Maple, adjusting my grip on the reins as we trotted into the arena.

I took a breath. Blocked out the noise. Focused.

Then, at the sound of the buzzer, we flew.

Maple moved with power and grace, muscles coiling and releasing as we weaved around the barrels with razor-sharp precision. The turns were tight, the speed unmatched. Every movement was calculated, controlled—until the last barrel.

Just as I rounded it, I saw a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. Something—someone—was too close to the fence. Maple spooked, just a fraction of a second’s hesitation, but it was enough to cost me.

We crossed the finish line fast, but not fast enough.

I let out a breath, my heart hammering as I slowed Maple to a trot.

Second place.

Not first.

Not him.

As I dismounted, frustration burned in my chest. I had been so close.

“Hell of a ride,” Joel’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to find him standing there, Ford’s reins in hand, watching me with that unreadable expression. “Shame about that last turn, though.”

I gritted my teeth, yanking off my riding gloves.

“What?” His lips twitched. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You’re gloating.”

Joel stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You mad ‘cause you lost, or mad ‘cause you lost to me?”

I shot him a glare, my skin still buzzing from the adrenaline. From the way he was looking at me. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” he murmured, his eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “Always so desperate to be perfect. Always so scared to just let go.”

I hated that he could see through me. Hated that he knew how much this got under my skin.

But most of all?

I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me right then and there.

“Y/n!” Kailen called, jogging up before I could say—or do—something stupid.

I tore my eyes away from Joel, breathing out sharply. “Coming.”

Joel leaned in just a little, voice low in my ear. “We’re not done, darlin’.”

I turned my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge of my own. “Not even close.”

The rodeo wrapped up as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The smell of sweat, dust, and leather lingered in the air as competitors packed up for the night, some celebrating, some nursing bruised egos.

I should have been happy with second place. It was a solid run, and I knew Maple and I had given it everything. But standing there watching Joel grin and drink a beer like he hadn’t just walked away with a damn trophy made my blood boil.

And worse? It made something else simmer beneath my skin.

Kailen nudged my side, her gaze flicking between me and Joel, who was leaning against the fence with Tommy, talking and laughing. “You look like you either want to murder him or fuck him.”

I scoffed. “Try murder.”

“Sure,” she said, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “You gonna pretend you weren’t watching him the whole time?”

I turned sharply toward her. “I was not—”

“You totally were.” She smirked. “And he knows it.”

I glanced back at Joel, and sure enough, his eyes were already on me, like he’d been waiting for me to look. The second our gazes met, he lifted his beer bottle slightly, that damn smirk never leaving his face.

Cocky asshole.

I tore my gaze away and turned to Kailen. “I need a drink.”

She grinned. “Now that I can help with.”

Later that night, most of the rodeo crowd had gathered around a bonfire outside the bed and breakfast. Someone had set up speakers playing old country music, and the smell of barbecue mixed with the smoke from the fire.

I sat on a hay bale, nursing a beer, trying to shake the way Joel had been in my head all damn day.

But of course, he had to make it worse.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joel’s voice drawled from behind me.

I exhaled slowly before turning to look at him. “Why? Thought I’d be too busy polishing my second-place ribbon?”

Joel chuckled, taking the spot next to me like he belonged there. “Nah. Just figured you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me after today.”

I scoffed, taking a sip of my beer. “I don’t.”

“Yet, here you are.”

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.

He leaned back, propping an arm on the hay bale, looking so damn relaxed it made me want to shove him off. “You always this fun at parties?”

I set my drink down and faced him fully. “What is it you want?”

He studied me for a second, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he shrugged. “Just wonderin’ how long you’re gonna pretend you don’t feel this.”

My breath caught, but I covered it with a laugh. “Feel what?”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “This,” he said, voice lower now. “The thing between us.”

I swallowed, suddenly hating how warm the fire felt against my skin. “There is no thing.”

Joel just smirked, like he could see right through me. “Right.”

The tension was thick—too thick.

I should have left, should have walked away before I did something stupid.

But Joel, of course, had to push.

“You mad ‘cause I won, or mad ‘cause you know I’m right?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

And just like that, my patience snapped.

“God, you are so insufferable!” I huffed, standing up abruptly.

Joel followed, rising to his full height, his body inches from mine. “And you are so damn stubborn.”

“Because I don’t fall for your stupid games?”

“No, because you pretend you don’t want this!”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t.”

Joel let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

I pushed at his chest, more out of frustration than anything, but he barely moved. “You are the last person I’d ever—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist, tugging me forward. “Then tell me to stop.”

I froze.

The bonfire crackled behind us, voices and laughter distant, drowned out by the pounding of my own heart.

Joel’s eyes searched mine, his breathing heavy, his grip firm but not unkind. “Tell me to walk away, y/n.”

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Joel's grip on my wrists tightened, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored mine. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stand you, y/n. I can't stand watching you shut me out, push me away, acting like you've got everything figured out."

I blinked, stunned by the words he'd just said.

"You can't stand me?" The words stung, more than I wanted to admit, but I was too furious to back down now.

Joel's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah. I can't stand how you make everything so damn hard. I can't stand how you act like I'm some kind of joke. But I can't stop thinking about you either. You don't get it, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, the raw emotion there now, the heat between us intensifying with every word. "I want you, y/n. I want you so fucking much, and I can't stand it."

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, staring up at him, realizing that everything l'd been fighting— everything I thought I knew-was coming to a head. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, the heat and the desire that had been simmering beneath our constant bickering now breaking free in an overwhelming wave.

Without thinking, I pushed myself up onto my toes, crashing my lips into his with all the pent-up frustration, desire, and raw emotion I'd been holding back. His hands immediately moved to my back, pulling me flush against him, and the moment our lips met, it was like everything exploded. His kiss was demanding, urgent, filled with everything we hadn't said before-the anger, the passion, the need.

I tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against mine, the way our breaths mingled as we kissed like it was the only thing that mattered. I could feel the way his muscles tensed under my fingers, the rawness of him, the way he was losing control just as much as I was.

"Y/n," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "I can't stop... can't stop thinking about you."

I pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, my chest heaving with breathless anticipation. "Then don't," I said, my voice shaky but full of conviction. "Stop fighting it."

Joel groaned against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me in an instant, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was rough, urgent, months—years—of tension exploding all at once.

He backed me up until my back hit the fence, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid I’d pull away. But I wasn’t going anywhere.

The kiss deepened, urgent, messy, full of everything we had been avoiding. I felt his hands running down my back, pulling me even closer as if he couldn't get enough, as if everything we had been holding back was finally being released in the fire between us.

My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles flexed with every move. I pulled him closer, his breath coming fast and shallow as he kissed me harder.

I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about the risks or the consequences. All I could focus on was the heat between us, the passion that had been building for so long, finally bursting open in a wave that left us both breathless and lost in the moment.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping me tightly.

"Shit," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was-"

I didn't let him finish, pulling him back into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more deliberate.

Joel's grin spread, a familiar cocky smirk returning, but now there was something more beneath it-something real, something that neither of us could deny.

We made it back to the bed and breakfast and I wasn't sure what I expected after everything— after the anger, the lust, the feeling of crossing some line l'd never been able to cross before-but in that moment, none of the thoughts I had before made sense anymore.

Joel's lips were still on my skin, his hands brushing against my body with a familiarity that felt too natural. I couldn't quite process it all-the way my heart raced, the way he moved so confidently, but also with that trace of hesitation like he was waiting for me to push him away. And I could feel the shift, the change, that had come with everything.

I could feel it in the way he touched me now-so gentle, but deep with a hunger I hadn't expected.

His lips trailed over my neck, down my jaw, slowly, like he was savoring every second. It made my breath catch, my pulse quicken as I let myself fall into the feeling, into him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice rough, barely above a breath. "I didn't think it would be like this. But damn, I can't stop..."

He didn't finish the sentence, and I didn't need him to. I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same thing I was feeling, the same pull, the same want.

I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't thinking about the competition, about the rivalry, about all the reasons we shouldn't be here, doing this.

I reached up, pulling him into a kiss, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if somehow that would make it all make sense. His hands slid under me, lifting me slightly, and I could feel him shift, his body pressing against mine with a desperate kind of intensity.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other. His touch was scorching, a contrast to the cool sheets beneath us. My hands roamed over his chest, feeling the taut muscles there, the heat radiating from him.

He groaned softly when my fingers brushed his collarbone, his lips parting in that same quiet desperation.

I could tell he was holding back-like he was giving me a chance to stop him, to pull away. But I didn't want to. I couldn't stop him.

When his hands found their way down to my waist, pulling me even closer, I couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped me. And that was it. He kissed me again, this time rougher, the pace of his movements picking up, pushing me deeper into the moment.

I wanted him. God, I wanted him more than I wanted to admit.

Joel's mouth found mine again, his hands now working to tug my shirt off, and I wasn't stopping him. I didn't care anymore. All the walls, all the resistance, all the history between us—it melted away, and the only thing that mattered was what we were doing right now.

We were giving in. We were no longer fighting it.

My body responded instantly, moving against his, matching the intensity of his kiss, the roughness of his hands. He was relentless, his kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn't get enough.

And I couldn't either.

The way he touched me made everything else feel irrelevant. The way his lips trailed down my body sent sparks of heat that burned away every other thought I had, until all I could think about was him.

It felt so right, but at the same time, so completely new.

Every touch, every movement, was a revelation. He wasn't the same man l'd been arguing with all day. He was someone else now-someone raw, someone real. Someone who was finally, finally, showing me all the things he'd been holding back.

And I realized, in that instant, I wasn't the only one letting go. He was too.

His body pressed against mine, heat radiating off him, as if he was saying everything he couldn't with words. His kiss was hungry, fevered, but there was something more to it-something soft, something almost... gentle.

I felt his hand on my back, guiding me, moving me closer, as if there was no space between us, as if we were meant to be tangled up in this moment, in this feeling. We were no longer the same stubborn, competitive people. We were two people who had finally let go of everything and just given in.

And I couldn't bring myself to stop.

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bartoszsims3 · 2 months ago

Text

4t3 | TAILORED SHORTS

Keep it elegant, keep it sexy 😌

Converted from TS4’s Sweet Allure set, these tailored khaki shorts bring a clean, classy vibe to your Sim. Perfect for warm days when your boys still wanna look sharp.

Available under Everyday and Formal.

🐻 | download: simfileshare / mediafire

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dameronspector · 1 month ago

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Philophobia (Part 8)

Pairings: Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Platonic!Reader

Chapter Summary: The four of you follow Sharon to her place and you have a conversation with Joaquin, Nagel meets his end and you are rocked by an explosion.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Slight Fluff, Revisiting Past, Mentions of Depression and Phobias, Isolation, Loneliness, Funeral, Guns/Bullets, Alcohol, Injuries, Concussion, Bruises, Explosion, Joaquin loves Reader so much, Steve Rogers Hate- click off if you’re not interested in that, that’s all I think!

AN: had to change the chronology of the episode to fit the story better, hope you all understand!

Ps: I am NOT a medical expert or a medical student. Apologies for any medical inaccuracies.

Turns out, you had underestimated Sharon’s ‘place’.

She was an exhibitor now and her flat was right above the exhibition hall. Your eyes widened as you took in all the expensive paintings. They were all real.

“Holy shit”, you whispered and Bucky’s mouth fell open slightly.

Sam scoffed and addressed Sharon, “Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.”

Sharon smirked, “I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets”, Sam quipped and you whipped your head to look at him in shock.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet, Van Gogh. Classics”, Bucky informed Sam and he looked surprised, you nodded your head and confirmed that whatever Bucky was saying, is the truth.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this”, you added and Sharon threw a smug smile over her shoulder at you, “Can definitely trust a Stark on that.”

Sam scoffed lightly, “Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam”, while searching it up on his phone.

Bucky stood next to him, peering over his shoulder in his phone, “Yeah. What’s Google say?”

You folded your lips to stop the smile from taking over your face.

Sam looked at his screen and his mouth fell open in disbelief, “No shit”, he murmured. You giggled lowly and nudged Sam.

“You guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour”, Sharon instructed and went upstairs, Zemo following her after finishing his little tour around the exhibit.

“You okay, kid? Didn’t get hurt or anythin’?”, Sam asked you in concern, keeping a close eye on you, understanding that a mission must’ve been daunting for you after a year of not doing any of them. Bucky gave you the same concerned father look.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah. I’m good. Don’t worry.”

You’re not about to trauma dump on them about how nervous you were, how much you hated that you didn’t have your suit or the necklace that your dad made for you in case of emergency right now.

Sam gave you a one-over before nodding at you, trusting your words and the three of you quietly made your way upstairs.

Sharon had given all of you clothes to wear, and you were shocked at her collection. She had all the luxury brands and latest fashion for everyone. She’d picked out a beautiful, classy outfit for you—it was similar to what Zemo had given you but with a maroon turtle neck, black wide-legged pants, black heeled shoes and a deep-maroon leather trench coat, in case you had to step out. You felt sharp and comfortable, exactly how you liked your outfits to feel.

After cleaning up and setting your hair, you just stared at your reflection in the mirror. The last time you had dressed up so well, was for your father’s funeral—the thought leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It was so fucked up that you had to be presentable during a fucking funeral. All you wanted to do, was wrap yourself in your dad’s jacket and t shirts and sleep the entire day away. The jackets and t shirts that lingered with the smell of his clean cologne and aftershave.

“Honey, please. We have to-”

“I’m not wearing that. Please, leave me alone”, you snapped at Pepper and she sighed, a helpless tear slipping from her eye before Rhodey gently asked her to step away, assuring her that he’d handle this.

You were lying on your bed with your back to the door. The surface of the pillow underneath your cheek was damp and hot from the constant stream of tears falling down your face, arms tightly wrapped around your body and your nose buried in the sweater that he had worn while making the gauntlet. The very gauntlet that cost him his life. There was a wet patch on it, from the tears falling off the bridge of your nose, but all that mattered was that it still smelled like him.

Like Tony Stark. Like your dad.

You felt the bed dip next to you and a heavy, yet caring, hand landed on your shoulder. You recognised it right away. It was your Uncle Rhodey.

“Sweetheart…c’mon. We’re all waiting for you. He’s waiting for you”, his solemn voice rang out in your still room. You looked so small, curled up into a ball and sobbing like a child, that he felt like you were 10 years old again, his heart clenching in pain at the thought.

Your body shuddered as you took in a breath, shaking your head in denial and cuddled deeper into the soft fabric of the sweater, eyes brimming with a fresh wave of tears.

“Kid, c’mon. You can carry the sweater with you, I promise. You- we gotta do this, alright? And we can’t do this without you. He’d curse us if we did that”, Rhodey joked lightly with a wobbly voice, feeling his own eyes burn with tears.

You let out a soft cry, “I-I want him back, Rhodey. I-I’m..I can’t do this.. I can’t… I can’t-”

“(Name)?”

A voiced snapped you out of the memory and you jumped, looking at your damp face in the mirror.

“(Name)?”, Sharon’s voice called out again.

“Uh-”, you attempted to clear your throat and took a deep breath in to calm down, “Y-Yeah?”

“Are you done? We’re leaving in five.”

You shut your eyes tightly and leaned against the sink, your arms supporting your weight, taking a deep breath in to calm your shaky voice, “Uh- Yeah. I’ll be there. Give me a moment.”

You heard her faint ‘alright’ and you looked up, your face a damp and wet mess with all the crying. Letting out a tired sigh, you grab some tissues from underneath the sink and dab your face, getting rid of any evidence that you had cried and shoved back the painful memory into the deep recesses of your mind.

Now, you just prayed that Bucky or Sam’s sneaky and hyper vigilant asses didn’t catch the changes in you.

You stepped out of the bathroom and joined the rest in the seating area. Bucky was wearing an all black outfit as usual— black pants, black t shirt and a black blazer, Sam in an olive green turtleneck, brown leather jacket and black pants and Zemo in a black turtleneck and pants with his ridiculous furred-hoodie-coat on top.

This was your first time seeing Bucky in something so fancy and Sam in something so stylish, you threw an appreciative look at them. They looked really good and sharp.

“Look at you guys! Ready to party, huh?”, teasing them lightly, you flashed them a sincere smile.

Bucky lifted the corner of his mouth in a half hearted smile and Sam smugly crossed his arms, flexing his arms in exaggeration.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Stark”, Sam complimented you and you did a little pose to humour him. Sam let out a chuckle and clapped his hand on your shoulder. Bucky, on the other hand, stared at you intensely.

“What took you so long?”, he asked.

You paused and your smile slowly faltered.

“Yeah actually, I was wonderin’ the same”, Sam asked in a curious tone.

You swallowed and let out a nervous chuckle, “Uh-I-I couldn’t find my hairbrush”, and cursed inwardly for stammering through the sentence.

The two of them stared you down suspiciously and exchanged a look with each other. You shuffled on your feet under their scrutiny when Sharon announced that you had to go downstairs now. Letting out a sigh of relief, you gave them a tight lipped smile and told them you’d wait by the bar counter and swiftly exited the room.

“So…it wasn’t just a hairbrush, right?”, Sam asked Bucky and he nodded in agreement.

“Definitely not. Their face was damp and eyes were red.”

Sam hummed thoughtfully, “Just be…gentle and careful if you end up asking them about it, yeah?”

Bucky nodded once again and the two of them headed out.

Nursing a glass of coca-cola in your hand, you leaned your weight against the counter and lazily observed the club around you. The loud music was kind of overstimulating but you had managed to zone out, your mind wandering in places it shouldn’t have when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Joaquin was calling you. You nearly choked on your drink before calming down and tucking yourself against a quiet corner. Taking a few breaths in, you finally received the call.

“‘Sup, Midnight”, Joaquin answered coolly.

You straightened up. He had called you by your…superhero name. You cringed at that because you were no superhero or whatever. But you didn’t correct him because…it sounded really good coming from him.

“Hey, Flyboy”, you sighed into the speaker.

“So…I heard you guys are partying right now?”

You scoffed, “Less partying, more keeping an eye out for a certain doctor who remade the serum.”

Joaquin whistled lowly, “Damn. How’s Madripoor treating you?”

“It’s trashy, smelly, shady and boring”, you deadpanned.

Joaquin let out a chuckle. You smiled at that.

“Atleast you don’t have to wear a green, thick, army uniform and go on recon in the heat”, he groaned.

You chuckled and it was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again, “Um..”, he hesitated, letting out a breath, “A-Are you okay?”

Your heart soared. Was that the reason why he called you? He wanted to check in on you?

Your voice softened, “Yeah. I’m okay, Quino. Not even a scratch.”

You heard the way he inhaled deeply, “That’s good. That’s really good. So…are we still on for that date?”, he asked shyly, his voice toned down.

You bit the inside of your cheek in nervousness. The fact that you had agreed to a date was still scary and you could practically feel your brain screaming at you to cancel it right away. But your poor heart was already in Joaquin’s gentle hands.

You cleared your throat before quietly replying, “..Yes. It’s still on, flyboy.”

You heard a small ‘yes!’ on the phone and smiled in disbelief. He was such a silly man.

“Okay! Okay, great, great, great. Uh- just- come back safely, okay? I’ll be waiting for you”, he replied, excitement and fondness bleeding into his voice.

You bit your lower lip to suppress the wide smile threatening to take over your face and that’s when your eyes fell on Sam and Bucky standing by the counter.

“Joaquin, I really have to go. Work calls. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course. Bye, (Nickname).”

You smiled bashfully, “Bye, Quino.”

After ending your call you made your way back to the counter and on your way you saw Zemo dancing in the crowd. You made a face and shivered before approaching the two men.

“Did you guys see Zemo dancing?”, you grimaced.

“Unfortunately”, Bucky quipped and you and Sam let out a snort.

“Hey guys, I found him”, Sharon informed you in the ear piece and the three of you exchanged a look before stepping outside.

“Where were you?”, Sam asked you.

You lied through your teeth, “The music was too loud. Needed some air”, and shrugged casually.

Bucky side eyed you, nudging Sam with his arm.

“Okay…you sure you’re alright?”, Sam asked you with a concerned look on his face.

You gave him a tentative smile. The two of them were worried for you and you understood that. You just didn’t know if you could handle another breakdown without sabotaging the whole mission and that would send you into an even bigger spiral of endless guilt.

“Yeah, I’m okay, guys. I-I promise I’ll tell you if I need some time out”, you reassured them and Sam looped an arm around you in comfort.

You caught Bucky’s eye and he flashed you a small smile, letting you know that both of them had your back and you felt your throat close up again.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind—you regarded Sam and Bucky as your family now. You felt taken care of, protected and wanted by them. This is what you’d been missing for the past one year. And you got it back. You got your family back.

You just gave Bucky a wet smile before sniffling and grabbed Sam’s hand that was around your shoulder.

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money. They know how to party”, Sam quipped and you scoffed.

The five of you were in a dockyard, and apparently, Nagel’s lab was inside one of those containers. This whole situation was sketchy and you, for some reason, couldn’t help but feel a sense of impending doom in the bottom of your stomach. And because of that, you had forgone your trench coat, feeling like it was going to suffocate you and hinder your movement.

Sharon separated from the five of you, keeping a watch on any intruders, while the four of you looked out for the container Nagel was in, based on Sharon’s instructions.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving. All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time”, she instructed in your ear pieces.

Eventually you did end up finding the container. It was empty and after trying to locate any kind of opening to a room that resembles a lab in it, all of you were almost sure, that this was a trap.

“Hey, Sharon. You sure this is the right one? It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has be”, Sharon’s voice came in the comm.

You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned closer to a gap in the walls of the container.

“Guys”, you called out for them to observe it.

Bucky pried open the crack with ease and the four of you stepped inside a room that was definitely a lab. Bathed in blue light, several lab apparatus and work tables lined up, high tech machinery, test tubes—it was a proper lab with Mel Tormé’s Comin’ Home Baby bursting through the speakers.

There, in the middle of the room, was a work station with a man sitting by it, his back to the door. He didn’t sense any of you come in so you tip toed your way across the room, Bucky leaning against one of the shelves, you next to him, Zemo, was eerily quiet and chose to lurk behind while Sam was approaching the man.

“Dr. Nagel?”

The man turned around and gasped loudly. He was very shabby-looking. Messy curls, dark eye bags, lanky, his eyes blown wide and a tremor to his hands.

“Who are you? What do you want?”, Nagel asked in alarm.

“We know you created the super-soldier serum”, Bucky stated lazily, his whole stance unbothered, as if he couldn’t believe that all of you were wasting time on this meek, distracted man.

“Get out of my lab”, Nagel spit out and tried to leave when Sam stopped him.

“Hey!”, then he pointed at Zemo, “You know who he is, right? This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right? You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick”, Sam tried to reason, in an attempt to get Nagel to confess.

Nagel sweeped his eyes across your group and you could see the gears turning around in his head.

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk”, he bargained, a weird look on his face.

You exchanged glances with Bucky when Sharon chimed in through the ear piece.

“Guys, we have company.”

And you heard some grunts before she continued, “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”, her voice rushed and breathless.

Bucky clenched his jaw and cocked his gun. Nagel took notice of it and his eyes widened.

“Okay! Okay..”, he placated and Bucky pulled his gun back. Nagel sat down on his chair and addressed you all.

“I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

You furrowed your brows. All this and nobody knew what happened?

“How have we never heard about this?”

Nagel looked at you, a thin smile pulling at his lips, “Because… Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?”, Sam asked.

“Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so… I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl”, he admitted in his breathy, nonchalant voice.

“Well, what happened to her?”, Sam asked hurriedly.

Nagel shrugged and replied coolly, “Not my pig. Not my farm.”

You rolled your eyes and put your hands on your hips in irritation, “Well, is there any serum in this lab?”

“No.”

You groaned, “Now what?”

Sharon’s breathless voice chimed in again, multiple grunts and gunshots going off around her. “Guys we’re seriously out of time here!”

Before any of you could react, a gunshot went off and you saw Nagel crash to the floor, a bullet lodged straight into the middle of his forehead.

Your eyes widened and Sam and Bucky whipped around to see Zemo standing there with his gun raised.

“No! What did you do?”, Sam asked Zemo in distress and shock.

You snapped out of your shocked trance when you heard a faint ‘tick tick’.

“Guys. Do you hear that?”, you asked them in alarm, the sound eerily similar to a ticking bomb.

And before any of you had a chance to move, there was a huge blast in the lab, followed by a fire that licked your skin in hot tendrils, and the blast broke down the wall, throwing the four of you outside.

You landed on your back, hitting your head against the concrete harshly and your lungs closing up in suffocation from the smoke and pain from the bruises. There were several cuts on your arms, likely from the glasses that were broken due to the blast.

You gasped, hands supporting your head and breath hitching from the effort to avoid hurting your ribs anymore. Your body curled around yourself in pain, tiny whimpers leaving your mouth and eyes brimming with tears. Somebody was saying something, the sound muffled in your ears because of the ringing in them.

“(Name)! Look at me, hey. Kid, c’mon-”, gentle yet strong hands carefully removed yours from your head and lifted you slightly to rest it on a balled up fabric.

You tried to open your bleary eyes, face scrunched in pain and discomfort. All you saw were stars behind your closed eyelids.

“Anybody see Zemo?”

“Nah. (Name), look at me”, hands patted your cheeks and tried to wake you up.

“Are they okay?”, another concerned voice asked, their hands pushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead.

You whimpered and managed to open your eyes, Sam and Bucky’s blurry figures looming over you.

“I-it hurts”, you whispered and blinked your eyes rapidly to get rid of the fog. Sam placed his fingers below your eyes, trying to peer into your unfocused eyes.

“Shit. I think they’re concussed”, Sam declared in concern, his eyes darting between your face and Bucky.

“Try to keep ‘em awake. I’ll handle the situation outside, yeah?”, Bucky instructed Sam and patted his back, before leaving you and Sam in the container.

“Kid? Hey, open your eyes for me. C’mon…”, Sam kept patting your cheeks lightly and you finally opened them, wincing before squinting them to look at Sam’s distressed face.

“Hey, hey.. you’re okay. Move your eyes along my finger, alright?”, he gently instructed and you let out a low hum.

Sam moved his pointer finger from side to side and your tired eyes followed it, although you kept wincing in pain every now and then.

Satisfied with his examination, Sam lowered his finger, “Alright, it’s not that bad of an injury. Just got your bell rung a lil’ too hard. What else hurts, sweetheart?”, he asked softly, trying not to trigger a headache by talking too loudly.

You groaned, “M-my..my ribs…I think…they’re bruised..”

“Is it okay if I check?”, Sam asked your permission and you nodded. He gently lifted your turtleneck and exposed your torso. Sam let out a sigh and furrowed his brows. Your torso was decorated with black and blue splotches, your stomach heaving harshly because of the pain around the area. He then lightly picked up your arms to take in the various cuts on them, all of them irritated and red.

“Yep, ribs are bruised. I’ll carry you, okay? Just sit up for sometime to get rid of the disorientation, Hm?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Sam carefully helped you sit up halfway through, supporting your head in his hands to avoid jostling you around too much. You let out pained whimpers and Sam kept apologising, your eyes squinting in discomfort.

“How’s it goin’?”, Bucky’s voice rang out in the empty container and he crouched next to you, taking in your exhausted body.

“The concussion is mild but…their torso…most likely the ribs are bruised. And the cuts on the arms…”, Sam mumbled.

Bucky let out a breath and ducked his head, face shifting in guilt.

“Let’s go. We’ll treat ‘em in the plane”, he murmured and Sam nodded before moving to pick you up in his arms.

After many cries of pain and Sam struggling to find a proper way to pick you up without hurting you any further, he finally managed to find a way and carried you out of the container, Bucky leading the way. You leaned your head against his shoulder, his jacket thrown around your head to avoid the light agitating you further.

You could faintly hear Sharon asking if you’re okay, but after that everything was a blur.

Sam laid you down on the pull-out bed in the plane and put five ice packs on your body— one below your head and four on your torso. He had bandaged your cuts tentatively, promising you that he’ll find some meds once you land. You kept drowsing in and out of an exhausted and restless nap, your body finally relaxing from the cool effect of the ice packs. Everything else around you was a blur, sounds were muffled as you were trapped in a limbo of passing out and stay awake.

Sam and Bucky sat opposite to you, Bucky meticulously cleaning his vibranium arm, a permanent frown etched on his face while Sam was taking to Joaquin on the phone.

“—Donya Madani. She’s a refugee, yeah.”

“Okay, I’m on it”, came Joaquin’s instant reply.

“Okay, call me if you get a hit.”

“Will do”, he reassured Sam.

“Thanks, Torres”, Sam sighed in exhausted and something else that was inching closer to guilt and regret for bringing you along.

“Um-Sam?”, Joaquin asked hesitantly.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, “Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”, he asked in concern.

Sam froze. He just hoped Joaquin wouldn’t ask him about you.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well—I was just..I dunno…I was feelin’ restless ever since you told me that you’re leaving for the dockyard…and-”, Joaquin paused, caught between telling Sam about the growing closeness between you and him and hiding it instead.

Sam’s eyebrow quirked, “And what?”

Joaquin sighed, he couldn’t hide anything from Sam. Especially after he knew everything and guided him in every way.

“….and, I was tryin’ to contact (Name). They’re not picking up my calls or answering my texts…I was just worried”, he admitted sheepishly.

Sam pinched his nose between his fingers and Bucky looked at him in question.

“Uh- well. They’re okay. But—”

Joaquin’s POV

Joaquin froze at Sam’s hesitation. He was already on edge ever since you didn’t pick up his call after the ninth text. He was this close to boarding the next flight to flying down to Madripoor himself.

“Sam, is everything okay?”, he asked quietly, his heart beating out of his chest.

“There was an explosion in the lab. We got thrown out of it and uh- they landed too hard on their head. Mild concussion, some cuts on the arms and bruised ribs, that’s all. Nothin’ serious.”

Joaquin didn’t move or speak for a moment, taking in the information one breath at a time.

“W-what? Are you sure they’re okay? Are they awake? Can I talk to them-”

“Hey, hey, man. ‘s alright, take a deep breath for me. They’re a lil’ out of it right now but they’re okay, I promise. I’ll facetime you once they wake up, okay? Don’t worry.”

Joaquin pressed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat faster, his quickened breaths making him a little dizzy. He closed his eyes in resignation. This was new to him. He knew you from afar, he was more of a fan before, but now? Now he had only spent a week or so with you, you were just becoming friends and yet…yet, he was feeling restless ever since you had left. The constant worry about you and your safety making him sick.

He swallowed thickly before softly replying, “Y-yeah. Okay, that works. Please call me, Sam. T-take care.”

Sam let out a deep breath, “Yeah, I will, Joaquin. You take care as well, yeah?”

“Yeah”, he replied shortly before ending the call.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head against the head rest again, Bucky finally looked up and asked, “You okay?”

Sam pursed his lips, debating on what topic to start with first.

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal. And now? The kid I promised to look after is lying unconscious next to us”, Sam conceded with an arm extended in your direction, glancing at you for a moment.

Bucky kept cleaning his vibranium fingers, “Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives. And, you’re not the only one with the guilt of dragging them in this. Stop being a martyr.”

Sam scoffed, “Yeah, I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You did.”

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. I should have destroyed it.”

“Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself”, Bucky hit back.

Sam opened his mouth before his phone rang, Joaquin informing him about Donya Madani’s death. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. Good work.”

Sam ended the call and sighed, “They found Madani… Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

Bucky pursed his lips and opened his mouth to respond before Zemo interrupted their conversation.

“I have a place we can go. I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Little Stark can rest there and get some more treatment. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

Part 9

AN: Ooooo😛 SamBucky giving each other a lil tough love and Joaquin worried out of his mind oooh yes. Please like and reblog!

taglist: @og-baby-ob14 @littlemsramirez @thejadevvitch @giona45-5

Sorry if someone didn’t get tagged!

#joaquin torres x stark!reader #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres #fluff #danny ramirez #joaquin torres fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #sam wilson #sam wilson x platonic!reader #bucky barnes x platonic!reader #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier

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secretlysamcro · 3 months ago

Text

𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑆𝑜 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 | 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑂𝑛𝑒

Black female reader x Jax Teller Possible spoilers, violence, explicit & threatening language, kidnapping (knowing me - eventual smut) & eventual Stockholm syndrome (kinda?) If you’re under the age of 18, haven't finished the show, or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

So this is my first ever original [by original, I mean not requested by someone else] part series! I hope you guys love. Will be multiple parts, just not sure how many yet. Let me know if you'd like to be in the tag list!

You knew taking the shortcut home was probably the wrong fucking idea, but after two pitchers of rum punch, half a smoked blunt, tequila shots and slut drops, you waited outside the club for over 30 minutes for your friends, who had disappeared somewhere between all of that. Fuck it. Your phone was dead, you had your heels swinging in your hand and your bladder was about to burst.

It was only a fifteen minute walk home, but halfway there, the pressure in your stomach became impossible to ignore. You slowed, scanning your surroundings then stumbled your way into a quiet alley between two warehouses, mumbling to yourself. ‘Real classy girl, love that for you’ You crouch low, behind a dumpster trying to be quick but before you could even handle your business, you hear it.

Voices, angry and dangerous. You freeze. The hairs on the back of your neck now standing to attention. “You thought we wouldn’t find out?” A voice growls, sharp and low “you hurt one of ours, we hurt you back. That’s how this works”

You hover forward slightly, three men stand with their backs to you. Their faces aren’t visible but the bold letters stitched across their backs? Yeah, shit was about to get real. The bodies are circling another figure kneeling against the concrete. His face is bloodied, eyes wide with fear but his pleas completely ignored.

“You fuck with the Sons of Anarchy…” the voice continues, cold as ice. “…you pay the price”

A single gunshot shatters the stillness.

You flinch violently, your hand clamps over your mouth before the scream could slip. That drunken balance, fails you. Your ass hits the filthy ground hard, landing in the piss you were trying so desperately to hold in. Your panties are still tangled around your thighs and your dress bundled up above your waist. You freeze, your heart hammering violently, praying they didn't hear. And for a moment, nobody moves.

Then, the men's voices pick up again, absolutely oblivious.

"Clean this up Hap. Rat's comin' in the second van to dump him. Needs to be on AB territory"

"You got it brother" another responds, his voice monotone but gravelly.

Another voice then speaks up nervously, slightly hesitant "Jax man, we do that, then they'll know it was us"

"That's the whole fuckin' point Juice"

Footsteps come closer, crunching over broken glass and dirt, louder and closer. Your pulse races, you’re barely breathing as the headlights flood the alley, tires screeching as a van speeds towards you. You press back harder against the wall, praying the shadows hide you and nobody looks down to see you there.

The doors slide open violently. "Come on Jax! we gotta go brother!"

The blonde man, the one they call Jax, runs towards the van, shoving something into his waistband. As he sprints past, the silencer he'd been clutching falls from his grip, rolling smoothy along the ground, like it's moving in slow motion, coming to a stop.

Right in front of you.

You don't dare breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut, praying that somehow it will make you disappear.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me" his voice is dark, so fucking dark.

You try to crawl back against the wall, your body trembling and your heart punching at your ribs. But he's already moving. He storms over so fast that your breath catches in your throat. "I..." you say quickly, your voice cracking "I didn't...I didn't see anything I...I swear...”

"Bullshit" he bites back, yanking you roughly into the light.

Your knees scrape against the concrete, sharp pain shooting up your legs as you're dragged forward. You try to tug your underwear back up with one hand, desperate to cover yourself.

But he doesn't care.

With a hard pull he hauls you to your feet by the wrist, like you weigh nothing. Like you're just another problem he has to deal with. He doesn't scream, doesn't threaten. He just stares at you, like he already knows what's got to happen.

"I...I didn’t see anything..."

"DONT LIE TO ME!" he barks, shaking you by the shoulders.

Then, more footsteps approach. "Jax, what's..."

He whips his head towards the voice. "She saw me. She saw all of us" he then turns looking directly at the one with tattoos decorating his skull "And some stupid asshole said my name too. so its not just faces. It's me. she knows my fucking name"

You try to speak, your words slurring as the alcohol still sways through your body. You try to explain that you're not a snitch, that you wont say anything. But the words fall short when he grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"Doesn't work like that darlin" he says, stone cold. Pushing your face out of his grip before turning to the man behind him. "Put her in the van".

There's no hesitation. You're grabbed hard by the forearm, and yanked towards the waiting vehicle. Before you can even steady yourself, your shoved inside. Your body hitting the cold metal floor. Jax stays where he is for a short moment, just watching. Then he crouches, scooping up your phone, heels and your small bag, pausing when he notices the damp patch spread across the fabric, his face twisting in quiet disgust.

Without a word, he tosses the bag and your shoes into the van after you, but your phone? he keeps that. He climbs in, slamming the door shut, dropping onto the bench opposite you. The silence heavy as he presses the button on your phone, trying to turn it on. But there's nothing. He exhales harshly, shoving it into his pocket as his Jaw rolls in frustration.

You're curled up in the far corner, shoulders shaking quietly. Tears flow silently down your face, but you keep your back turned so he cant see. Doesn't matter though, he knows you're crying. He sees every shudder and every tremble. He glances over briefly, his chest tightening a little when he realises just how exposed you still are.

Panties twisted awkwardly around your legs, your dress bunched up at your waist and your thighs streaked wet from piss. The minimum lighting in the van reveals your bare skin and even though he can’t see you too well, he can feel the panic and humiliation radiating off you in waves.

He lets out a forced breath through his nose as he rubs at his beard. His gaze flicking over your exposed skin. Quickly and uncomfortably. His eyes pausing at the dark ink across the small of your back, he can't quite make out what it is but he doesn't linger long enough to figure it out.

Yeah he just ended a man's life in cold blood, no hesitation whatever. But this? seeing you, someone who shouldn't even be here, someone who had no part in the clubs messy business, broken down, vulnerable and terrified? that shit doesn't sit right with him.

He mutters a curse under his breath, more aimed at himself than at you, then shrugs off his Kutte, pulling his black hoodie up and over his head, leaning forward slowly. Draping it across your shaking form. Your body goes stiff at the sudden weight of the fabric, but you don’t move. And he doesn't say a word. Nothing comforting, no apology, doesn't offer any words of false reassurance, just places the hoodie over you as he breathes deeply, frustrated at himself and the fucking mess he's now made.

Jax is pulled out of his thoughts when the driver glances back through the metal grate. "Where we takin' her Pres?" The words hang heavy in the air, Jax doesn't answer right away, his thumb tapping against his knee whilst his brain fired off in a hundred directions at once. They can't risk just dumping you, You'd seen too much. He inhales, biting his lower lip as he does. Then, his eyes flick over to where you're crawled up, silent still shaking and still wrapped in his hoodie.

"The cabin" he says, low and certain. It's isolated, quiet and no one goes they're unless they're told to. And right now, Jax needs quiet, to figure out what the fuck to do with you.

The van finally rolls to a stop after what feels like forever. You're slipping in and out, half drunk and half terrified. Everything aches, everything burns. You don’t even know how long you've been curled up in the back, knees tucked to your chest and his hoodie clutched around you like a barrier.

The door slides open and slams shut again, leaving you alone.

You catch the faint words through the walls of the van "Hap's all done at his end. Just this shit to deal with now"

"Alright" Jax replies, calm and steady "give me a minute, go inside, move anything too personal, I'll bring her in"

You sit up slowly, wincing as pain shoots through your hip from how hard you landed earlier. You pull of the hoodie and lay it beside you. Hands trembling as you finally tug your dress down and drag your underwear back into place.

A second later, the van door slides open again, fast and hard. Jax climbs back in, ducking a little under the frame. He pauses for a second, then takes a deep breath stepping forward, crouching down and offering you his hand. "Come on" he mutters "please don't make this any harder than it already is" his voice is flat, not cold but not kind either.

You don't move.

"You alright?"

You let out a dry humourless scoff, the first sound you've made since being in this van. You’ve moved past fear now, and your ‘take no shit’ attitude begins to seep through. "What do you think?" Your voice is hoarse, but the sarcasm still on fucking point. "I'm half drunk, covered in my own piss and in the process of being kidnapped...so yeah I'm perfectly alright"

His jaw flexes, but he doesn't say anything back. He just nods once like he deserved that answer. Then, reaches out and helps you up. Firm and steady, but no roughness this time. Just a man trying to handle a mess he didn’t plan for, and a woman who’s not about to go quietly. Jax kicks the cabin door open without saying a word. His grip on your arm, controlled. He walks you down a narrow hallway, his shoes heavy against the old wooden floor. You don't ask where you're going, you already know it doesn't matter.

He stops outside a door at the back of the cabin and pulls it open. A small room, a bed, a set of drawers and a tiny ensuite tucked to the side. No windows. Nowhere to run.

He guides you into the room. "Don't do anything stupid" he says simply, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before leaving and locking the door shut.

You stare at the plain wooden walls. It's silent, your heart hammering in your chest again. You haven't even sat down when the door clicks open once again.

This time though, its not Jax.

A different man walks in. Tall, messy dark curls, twitchy fingers and eyes that never stop moving. He's got a gun in his hand, held loosely at his side. He shuts the door behind him then takes a few slow steps towards you. Not in a rush, but like he's done this a hundred times before.

He grins, just about. "I don't know what Jax is thinkin', keepin' you alive... but I'm here to make sure you understand something real clear" He stops right in front of you.

Close. Too fucking close.

"You saw somethin' you weren't suppose to, and the only reason you're still breathin' is cause pretty boy out there wants to think this through" he rolls his eyes, waving the gun in the air "Me? I'm not so patient"

The words stretch on, and before you can even think, you snap. You slam your foot straight into his shin and shove him hard. He stumbles back and you rush him, teeth clenched and your nails scraping against his face. He grunts, throwing his arms up and in the scuffle you manage to draw blood from his skin.

"You crazy fucking bi..." His hand lifts, the gun gripped tight, ready to hit you with it.

The door slams open.

"TIG!" Jax's voice cuts through the room "What the fuck are you doing brother!" in a flash, he's between you both, grabbing Tig's wrist mid swing. “I told you to scare her! not beat the shit outta her”

His lips curl, blood dripping down his cheek "She fucking jumped me! look!" he points at the mark you've left on his face.

“Get out” Jax snaps, his voice sharp.

“Seriously? She started it” Tig whines, sounding more like a sulky teenager than a grown man.

“Go wait for the others. Let me handle this” Jax says, his tone sharp and final.

Tig huffs moving in the direction of the door “whatever man” you can tell by the way he looks at Jax that he wants to argue, but it’s like he knows better. He shoots you a glare as he passes, then lifts his middle finger with a slow overbearing smirk.

“see ya around sweetheart” he slams the door behind him, hard enough to rattle the cabin walls.

"So you don't wanna kill me, you don't wanna let me go...you're just trying to scare me?" you half laugh, sitting yourself down on the edge of the bed.

He rubs his face in frustration. You're hitting nerves and he hates that you can already see through him. "Can you just shut your mouth for one fucking second?" he snaps, his voice rising with irritation.

And just like that, he's on you in an instant, dropping to his knees in front of you gripping onto your arms, practically trying to shake some sense into you.

The heat of his breath hitting your face as he leans in. "Listen to me..." his voice is low but fierce. "I don't wanna do anything fucking stupid, But him? the one you just tried to fucking bite. He doesn't give a shit. And neither do the rest of em" his grip tightens just a little, goosebumps flaring up along your bare arms. "I'm trying to find a way to get you out of this. So shut. the. fuck. up. and quit being so fuckin' stubborn"

You chew your lip, the alcohol dulling but not fully gone. You're not sober but you're aware enough now, to know how real this shit is now. You just nod in response, not trusting your mouth to say the right thing.

Jax exhales hard, then glances down at you, taking you in again. Your piss stained clothes cling to your skin, you can see the smallest flicker of disgust on his face, even if he is trying to mask it. You catch the look and speak softly, almost begging. "Can I at least have a shower?"

He stares for a second longer, then finally releases his grip, standing again "Yeah". But he doesn't move far, he hovers on guard, and when you stand he makes sure to lock the door Tig just left through, his eyes not leaving you the entire time.

You hesitate slightly, unsure if you're even allowed to move yet. You watch on as he searches through the drawers in the corner, eventually pulling a pair of old joggers and a oversized tee, tossing them onto the bed next to you. "Go" he says, nodding towards the ensuite.

You move cautiously, your eyes flicking back to him. But as you go to close the bathroom door behind you, his foot wedges it open. "Not happening" he says, almost amused.

"Are you serious?" you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's amused by your attitude "Not a fucking chance" he mutters, sinking to the floor, planting himself in the doorway like a guard dog.

"Creep" you glare at him, your lips turned in annoyance.

He gives you another grin, all teeth and no warmth "Been called worse sweetheart" he says, lighting a cigarette as he waits for you to clean up.

He continues sitting in the doorway, one knee bent up and the other stretched out. His jaw tight and his eyes locked forward but you know he’s aware of everything in the room.

You move slow, peeling off your dampened dress. Your eyes keep flicking back over to him, making sure he’s not looking. Steam begins to fill the bathroom as you step into the shower. The hot water hitting your skin, the grazes on your knees stinging deep but for the first time tonight, the tension in your body finally relaxes, just a little.

Outside of the shower, Jax takes a slow drag of his smoke, his eyes momentarily drifting. Then he sees it, the tattoo he couldn’t work out earlier. "Lucky You" in small print just above the curve of your ass. He scoffs under his breath, amused. Intrigued. Maybe a mixture of both. “Yeah…not so lucky” he mutters, the irony making him laugh.

When you finished getting changed, you still don't utter a word. You simply step over him, your bare foot brushing against his thigh, your hair still wet, curls shrinking tighter as they dry. He stiffens slightly but doesn't move, doesn't speak. Just follows you with his eyes as you sit back on the bed.

"You always act like this?..." he speaks finally, his voice low, almost taunting "...like you ain't scared?"

You meet his stare, holding it as he gets up off the floor. "Maybe I am scared"

"Are you?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

He doesn't reply right away. Just studies you, the same unreadable expression plastered across his face. Something behind his eyes shift, but its too quick to catch. "What's your name?” "Why? so you can put it on my grave?" you raise a brow as you stare him out.

"I could just check in your bag” he mutters.

“Do that then”

“Rather you just tell me…bags covered in piss” he makes that same face again, like he's grossed out but trying to hide it.

You cant help but let out a laugh. "So you'll shoot a guy in the head, but a lil piss is where you draw the line? wow...that's wild"

He finally makes eye contact now, a grin creeping at the corners of his mouth "Oh" he says, the grin now blatant on his face "so you did see somethin?"

Your stomach drops the second the words leave his mouth. You try to keep your face blank. You’ve sworn up and down until now that you didn’t see a thing. Your throat tightens and your chest pulls tight. You don’t have any words to respond with so you just watch him.

“Guess I’ll just call you Lucky” he says, already walking towards the door. Absolute audacity in his tone, and as if he’s not already five steps past disrespect, he winks as he says it.

You sit up a little straighter “Lucky?”

He glances over his shoulder with that same fucking smile. “The tattoo”

And then, it hits. You feel the heat rush up your neck. You don't know if it was when you were standing in that damn shower, or maybe it was before that. When you were chucked in the back of the van, skin exposed and eyes on you like you were nothing more than a problem.

“Fuck you” your voice is low, the words sounding rougher than you meant them to.

He stops in the doorway, turning fully leaning himself against the frame. “Not tonight darlin” Then the door shuts behind him. The lock clicking slow. And just as the silence settles, you hear the deep roar of more bikes turning up, one by one.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me

Jax Teller Masterlist

My plan is to do shorter parts than usual, so we can drag it out a little! Thank you for taking the time to read! Love you all 🤭🖤🫶🏽

xoxo secretly samcro

#jax teller #jax teller x black!reader #sons of anarchy #secretly samcro #jax teller x reader #jax teller one shot #samcro #jax teller imagine #soa #charlie hunnam #jax x reader #black!reader

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kazutora-kurokawa · 3 months ago

Text

Rindou x Reader: After The Party

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, hangovers, Rindou being lowkey spoiled, reader on her period, Ran sleeping anywhere and everywhere ♡

note: Kattt I cooked 🗣️‼️ lowkey wanna do a part 2

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You woke up in a familiar bed, hungover, achy, and barely able to move. You would’ve been concerned any other time, but you knew exactly who the culprit was: your heavy ass boyfriend, Rindou. He was sprawled messily across the bed, his upper body on top of yours, pants sagging, legs dangling off the side of the bed and touching the bottle eroded floor of his bedroom. Everything was a mess, and it didn’t help that he had his head directly on your breasts while you were on your period. His hair was stuck to his face, most likely from sweat, and he was drooling on your shirt.

“Get up Rinny, you’re too heavy.” You groaned. “Come on get up, you’re hurting my tits, dumbass.”

You gently pushed him off of you, gripping the neck of his shirt so he didn’t fall off the bed entirely, and he jolted awake at the sudden loss of contact.

“Hm? Fuck, what day is it?” “Sunday…why? You got somewhere to be?” “Nah, I’m fine right here.”

A sharp grin spreads across his face as he pulls himself back onto the bed and cuddles up next to you.

“Damn…my room is fucked.” “Well, that’s what happens when you don’t lock your room down during a house party…It is pretty dirty in here though.” “Yeah, they ruined my room.” “I’m pretty sure that pile of dirty laundry was already there.” “Whatever.”

He rolled his eyes before grabbing the pillow from behind his head and tossing it on your face, muffling your laughter. He sighed in annoyance before reluctantly getting out of bed and picking up a few empty beer bottles, tossing them in the trashcan near his door before shuffling back over to the bed and planting a soft kiss on your forehead, grabbing his phone off the nightstand and putting it on the charger.

“It’s dead. I was gonna call Ran, but I guess I can do it later.”

Just as Rindou finished his sentence, he heard a soft snore coming from outside his room. You sat up in bed and motioned for him to open the door to see who was on the other side. Lo and behold, Ran was knocked out sleep on the floor outside of his room, which was right down the hall from Rindou’s.

“Really Ran? Real classy man.”

Rindou quietly closed the door back and plopped back down on the bed next to you, resting his head against your chest.

“I thought you were gonna clean up.” “Twenty more minutes.” “Twenty?” “Maybe an hour or two.”

He gently kisses your chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck, giving you a small amount of relief from the pressure being taken off your chest.

“Sorry if you’re sore baby…You need anything before I crash?” “No, I have everything I need already.” “Love you.” “Love you too Rinny.”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @prettytanii @happy-trenchcoated-impala @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl @eroticdarling @beetusbritt

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #rindou x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #rindou haitani x reader #rindou fluff #rindou haitani fluff #my mannnnn 😭#he's such a fucking baby fr #also Rans sleepy ass

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areyoufuckingcrazy · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Could I request a Crosshair x Reader? The reader was a medic in the GAR and would occasionally be called to treat the Bad Batch and loved to over-the-top flirt with Crosshair. After Order 66, the reader treats him after the fall of Kamino, and is reunited again on Tantiss?

Thank you for the request!

Because I’m evil I made this really sad and tragic - hope you enjoy!

⸻

Title: “Just Like the Rest”

Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Injury, death, angst

When you first met Crosshair, he was bleeding all over your medbay floor.

Not dramatically, of course. That wasn’t his style. He’d taken a blaster graze to the ribs, shrugged it off, and sat on the edge of your cot like he couldn’t care less if he passed out.

“You should’ve come in hours ago,” you said, kneeling to check the wound. “This is going to scar.”

Crosshair’s eyes barely flicked toward you. “Scars don’t matter.”

You raised a brow. “To you, maybe. I, on the other hand, take pride in my handiwork.”

His lip curled in the barest ghost of amusement. You took it as encouragement.

You started showing up whenever they did. Crosshair got injured just enough to give you an excuse to flirt outrageously. You called him things like “sniper sweetheart,” “sharp shot,” and once, when you were feeling particularly bold, “cross and handsome.”

He rolled his eyes, glared, told you to shut up more times than you could count—but he never really pushed you away.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his gaze lingered when you turned to walk away. The way he always sat a little too still when you touched him—like he was trying not to feel something.

⸻

You pressed the gauze a little firmer than necessary against Crosshair’s side.

“Careful,” he grunted.

You smirked, dabbing the bacta. “Sorry, sniper. Didn’t realize your pain tolerance was that low.”

Crosshair didn’t dignify that with a response. Just narrowed his eyes at you and clenched his jaw.

You loved getting under his skin. The other clones were easy to treat. Grateful. Polite. But Crosshair? He glared like you’d personally insulted his rifle every time you patched him up.

It made him interesting.

“You know,” you added, taping down the final dressing with a wink, “if you ever want me to kiss it better, just say the word.”

Crosshair exhaled sharply through his nose—something between irritation and disbelief.

“You ever shut up?”

You leaned in close, your voice dropping to a purr. “Not for you.”

And then you walked off, grinning to yourself, because Crosshair might’ve looked annoyed, but you caught it—the way his eyes lingered just a second too long.

You never expected anything from it. It was just a game. A slow, stupid, hopeful kind of game.

And then the war ended.

⸻

The transition from the Republic to the Empire didn’t faze you at first.

Same job. Same uniform. New symbol on your chest.

You weren’t naïve, just tired. The war had dragged on for years. Maybe peace, even under control, wasn’t the worst thing.

Besides, you were just a medic. You weren’t in charge of policies or invasions. You fixed what was broken. Saved who you could. And in your mind, the war was finally over.

You didn’t question the new rules. Not then. Not when Crosshair disappeared. Not even when Kamino began to feel… emptier.

When the call came in that Crosshair had returned—injured during the fall of Kamino—you were the one they requested. Of course you were.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you were just a medic, doing your job. Nothing more.

But when you saw him again, lying on that cold table, soaked in sea water and rage, something shifted.

“You’re quiet,” you said as you cleaned blood from his temple.

He didn’t answer.

“You could say something. Like ‘Hi, I missed you,’ or even just a classy grunt.”

Crosshair stared at the ceiling like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I thought you were dead,” you admitted softly, your voice losing the humor. “And then I thought… maybe that would’ve been easier.”

His gaze finally cut to yours—sharp and cold. “Didn’t stop you from joining them.”

You stiffened.

“I didn’t know what was happening, Cross,” you said. “None of us did. I didn’t even see the Jedi fall. I was in a medtent treating troopers shot by their own.”

He said nothing.

“I stayed. I helped. I didn’t know you’d… chosen to stay too. Not like this.”

His voice was quiet, bitter. “So you’re leaving again?”

“I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. They only brought me in to stabilize you.”

He scoffed. “Figures. You’re just like the rest.”

That sentence struck you harder than any wound you’d treated.

Your hand froze on his bandage. Your throat tightened.

You stepped back.

“You think I didn’t care?” you said, barely more than a whisper. “I flirted with you for years, you emotionally constipated bastard. You could’ve said something. You could’ve stayed.”

He didn’t answer. He just looked away.

And this time, you were the one to leave.

⸻

The Imperial Research Facility on Tantiss was hell in sterile form.

You hated it the moment you arrived. The black walls. The quiet whispers. The clones in cages. The scientists with dead eyes.

But you told yourself you had no choice. You’d seen too much to be let go. You’d signed too many lines, accepted too many transfers.

And if you were going to be stuck in this nightmare, you might as well try to help the ones left inside it.

So you stitched up soldiers with no names. You treated mutations the Empire refused to acknowledge. You whispered comforts to dying experiments when no one else would.

And then one day—you saw him again.

You found him slumped against a wall, one arm dragging uselessly, his uniform half-burned.

“Crosshair.”

He blinked blearily. When he saw your face, he flinched like you’d hit him.

“Oh,” he said. “Of course. You.”

“I should’ve guessed you’d find a way to almost die again.”

You knelt beside him, voice low. “Let me help you.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched you with a raw, wounded anger that made your stomach twist.

“You knew I was here,” you said. “Didn’t you?”

“I heard rumors,” he rasped. “Didn’t believe it. Figured if you were here, you’d have visited. Unless that was too much effort.”

You stared at him. “You think I wanted this?”

“You chose this,” he said coldly. “You always do.”

You wanted to scream. To shake him. To make him see what this place had done to you. What the Empire really was. But Crosshair didn’t want sympathy. He wanted someone to hate.

And you were easy to hate.

Even if the way his fingers brushed yours when you patched his shoulder said otherwise.

Even if you still smelled like the cheap soap he used to mock, and he still remembered exactly how you smiled when you wrapped his wounds.

Even if he was still in love with you—and still convinced that meant nothing.

⸻

Tantiss was built to be soulless—white halls, dead lights, silence where screams should’ve been. You learned how to survive here by becoming invisible.

But now you were doing something dangerous. Stupid, even.

You were trusting again.

Crosshair hadn’t spoken much after that first time you treated him—just short questions, sarcastic comments, clipped observations. But he stopped flinching when you approached. Stopped spitting daggers every time your fingers brushed his skin.

And sometimes, on the rare nights when the lights dimmed and the cameras looked the other way, he’d ask things.

“Did you know what they were doing here?”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Why did you help me?”

You answered every question honestly, because lies were for people who didn’t already carry each other’s ghosts.

And then came her—a ghost you didn’t expect.

Omega.

They brought her in bruised, shackled, but defiant. You knew who she was—of course you did. You knew what she meant to Crosshair even if he’d never say it.

The first time you saw her, you crouched beside her cot and said:

“Name’s [Y/N]. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Omega didn’t trust you, not at first. But you earned it, one moment at a time.

You fixed her shoulder. Snuck her extra food. Sat with her at night when the lights made her cry.

Crosshair was the one who really got her to open up.

She’d whisper across the room in the dark.

“You look grumpy, but you’re not really.”

Crosshair muttered something like “Keep telling yourself that.”

She smiled.

You’d watch them from the corner of the lab. A tired soldier and a fierce little kid, clinging to the only family they had left.

You started planning.

You spent weeks preparing—disabling door locks, stealing access codes, memorizing shift schedules. You taught Omega how to sneak. You warned Crosshair how many guards you couldn’t distract.

The night came fast.

Crosshair didn’t ask questions—he moved like a man with nothing to lose. Omega stuck to his side like a shadow. You guided them through hallways, down lifts, past sleeping monsters in bacta tanks.

You reached the final corridor, the one that led to the hangar.

That’s when he stopped.

“Where’s your gear?” Crosshair asked. “We don’t have time to backtrack.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going.”

He stared at you like you’d just said the sky was falling.

“What the hell do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m on every manifest. Every shift schedule. Every system. I don’t make it out. Not without putting you both at risk.”

Omega grabbed your hand. “But we can’t just leave you!”

You smiled—God, it hurt to smile. “You have to. You’re the only ones who still have a shot.”

Crosshair stepped forward, chest heaving. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Maybe,” you said softly, “but I’m making the call.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just stared. Like he wanted to remember everything about you—your face, your scent, your voice when you weren’t bleeding or angry.

And then, quietly:

“I should’ve said something. Before. Kamino. You deserved more than—”

“I knew,” you said. “I always knew.”

You kissed him. Once. Brief. Like a secret passed between souls.

“Get her out,” you whispered.

And then you ran back toward the alarms.

⸻

The cuffs chafed against your wrists, biting into raw skin. The interrogation room was colder than usual—designed to break people long before the scalpel touched skin.

You weren’t broken.

Not yet.

Dr. Royce Hemlock entered like he always did: calm, unbothered, surgical. He closed the door behind him with a quiet hiss. No guards. He didn’t need them.

He looked at you like a specimen already tagged for dissection.

“Dr. [Y/L/N],” he said softly, hands clasped behind his back. “You’ve been busy.”

You didn’t speak.

He circled you, like a predator measuring bone width and muscle density.

“You falsified clearance reports. Tampered with door access logs. Administered unauthorized sedation doses. Facilitated the escape of two highly valuable assets. All while wearing the Empire’s crest on your coat.”

You tilted your chin up. “You forgot ‘ate the last slice of cake in the mess.’”

Hemlock’s smile was thin, sterile.

“I misjudged you,” he said. “I assumed your compliance stemmed from belief. But it seems it was convenience.”

“It was survival,” you corrected. “Until I realized survival meant becoming the monster.”

He stopped behind you, his voice like ice against your neck.

“Do you know what fascinates me, Doctor?” he asked. “Loyalty. The anatomy of it. How some will kill for it. Die for it. And how others—like you—will throw it away for a defective clone and a girl with a soft voice and wild eyes.”

Your voice didn’t shake.

“They had more humanity than anyone in this facility.”

Hemlock’s footsteps were deliberate as he moved back in front of you. He looked down like you were an experiment that had failed on the table.

“Your medical clearance is revoked. Your name will be stripped from the archives. You will die here, and no one will remember you.”

You met his gaze. “Then you’ll never know how I did it.”

That made his mouth twitch. Just slightly.

“You think you’re clever,” he said. “But you’re just like all the rest. Sentimental. Weak. Replaceable.”

You leaned forward, blood on your lip, defiance burning in your chest.

“No,” you said. “I’m unforgettable.”

Hemlock pressed the execution order into the datapad.

“Take her to Sector E,” he told the guard at the door. “Immediate termination.”

As the guards hauled you to your feet, you locked eyes with Hemlock one last time.

“You’ll lose,” you said. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someone will bring this place to the ground.”

He tilted his head, amused.

“And who will that be? The sniper who tried to kill his brothers? The child?”

You smiled through bloodied teeth.

“They’re more than you’ll ever be.”

⸻

They didn’t let you say goodbye.

They didn’t let you scream.

But you didn’t beg.

You thought of Crosshair. Of Omega. Of the escape you made possible.

And you went quietly.

Because monsters didn’t get the satisfaction of your fear.

⸻

Later, through intercepted comms, Crosshair would hear the clinical report:

“Subject [Y/N] – execution carried out. Cause of death: biological termination. Body transferred to incineration chamber.”

He replayed that sentence ten times before he crushed the headset in his hand.

Hunter didn’t say anything.

Wrecker just placed a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder.

And Crosshair—who hadn’t prayed in his life—looked out at the stars, and wished he believed in something that could carry your soul home.

#tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair #bad batch preferences #the bad batch headcanons #bad batch x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars headcanons #clone trooper preferences #clone x reader #clone force 99

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caprart1 · 3 months ago

Text

Feeling freaky so I'm going to rank 10 versions of Sephiroth based on smashability

10. First Soldier Sephiroth

I will not be smashing him, but I will be tucking him in at night and making sure the bed bugs don't bite. He'll be cradled in my arms and fed milk bottles stored at approximately 98.6° Fahrenheit (37° Celsius). That's my baby and I'm taking him in with open arms

9. OG Sephiroth

Very cute, one of my favorites, but I see him as more of a pet. I am so emotionally dependent on him. I have the irrepressible urge to forcibly pick him up to cuddle on my lap only to be offended when he moves away. He will be fed pumpkin spice friskies every morning

8. Kingdom Hearts 2 Sephiroth

MIGHT BE CONTROVERSIAL but only kinda smashable to me. I love the fit, but also... too many sharp edges for me. He's so pointy. If I can manage to get through his clothes without cutting myself up, his hip wings will be the next challenge. They would be so awkward, and they would stab me. I don't like hurt. Not fun

7. Advent Children Sephiroth

We enter smashing territory, but points taken off for having not seen Advent Children yet. Very cool, very dark, very brooding. I like that. He will never be a memory to me. Give me a one way ticket to pound town with him and my DNA will sing his praises for the rest of my life

6. Donbei Sephiroth

Heh... well... let's just say... I'll be slurping up his udon 🤤

5. Remake/Rebirth Sephiroth

Right in the middle, this is THE Sephiroth that he was always destined to be. Hot, cool, and classy. You can not go wrong with this bad boy. I would be his dutiful wife, making sure he has a hot plate of dinner ready at the end of every mission, and I would be there every night to relieve him of his aches

4. Dissidia Sephiroth

THE Sephiroth, but make him a little fancier. I am getting down on my knees before he can even utter the first consonant and licking his boots CLEAN. I am consuming every part of him, I will rip and chew through all of that leather with my bare hands and teeth just to get to him. Lord be with him, he will need his blessings against me

3. Crisis Core Sephiroth

Placing him high because I am more of a romantic than anything and I feel very romantic about him. I am smashing him very lovingly. He looks so soft to me. I would treat him so well. Together, we would go to Cosmo Canyon and gaze up at the galaxies beyond, and I would take both of his hands in mine and kiss him tenderly beneath the stars.... right before smashing heavyyy obv

2. Bizarro Sephiroth

Backshots of horrors and death! I am taking them all like a CHAMP. My back might be getting blown out but my passion will be intact. No matter how big he is, I CAN and I WILL make it work. His core looks like an egg to me and I will find the means to fertilize it myself

1. Safer Sephiroth

This is peak Sephiroth, this is what it all leads up to. With me and my insatiable hunger for this man, I would single handedly save Gaia from being struck by Meteor. Me and Safer will be doing the cosmic tango for eternity. If ever you think of me and wonder where I am, just simply look to the heavens where you will find me bearing the weight of the world and taking the load of this man's wrath, and know that I did it... for humanity. And for no other reason. On everyone's soul

#ff7 #sephiroth #sorry i get restless when i dont have any art to post #not very mysterious of me #saying all of this while being on the ace spectrum #1000 likes for me to smash rank alucard

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astro-royale · 1 year ago

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AstrologyObs: Appearance

Disclaimer:my opinion

Cancers are the cutie of the zodiac!! Round facial features. Cozy, comfy, warm and inviting. They may look great in Asian make up styles or old classic make up styles. Bohemian. 70s look or even 50s.

Gemini have a cheekiness to them that’s apparent in their features. They look like troublemakers in a wholesome way. They usually have quite sharp smiles. They have a very on the go energy , and I think they can get away with being sporty or even messy. But they also look so good with a basic 90s style which reflects their logical mind.they may also have a “rebel” “punk” or even Avril Lavigne vibe.

Pisces just feel like a wave of tranquility and I just want to chill with them. They have such dreamy eyes that make you want to get lost in them. They look so good with shimmers, in make up and clothes. Also metallic colours. Glowy make up. MERMAID. They suit modern style of clothing a lot.

Sagittarius, the free spirits, can actually look great with more revealing looks. They can get away with over the top things, and they will make it look cool, like their way of dressing is part of their philosophy. I feel like Sagittarius also has a lowkey sense of humour to their style, “ I did it for the fun of it, why not” also look so good in red:::

Scorpio.. you guys just remind me of Johnny Depp in pirates of the Caribbean, looks wise that is. Very alluring, darkness around the eyes. You change and transform people so no one will ever experience another you again. Your dress sense may have elements of danger. Leather jackets. A sense of shock, uniqueness . Darkness. Alternative or femme fatale.

Aries yall look good in office things, or just sophisticated and sharp styles tbh. There’s an angularity to you but it looks very cool and dramatic, it makes you interesting and cool. Lush, and sharp.it gives lip gloss and matte outfit vibes.

Capricorn, your organisation influences your dress sense so much and i actually think that Capricorn represents a mainstream dress sense or something conventional and basic you see everyday. So you look good in that. Simple. Classy. Timeless. Capricorns with Aquarius placements may disagree

Taurus, yall look really good with heavy makeup up looks, or full face glam. you guys look good with mullets. And electric colours. Graphic liners. Cool eyeshadow looks. IG baddie make up looks. May also suit dip dye hair styles or highlights.

Virgo, I feel like many of you may have had a hipster phase, plaid shirt and boots situation. Or some kind of lowkey emo phase . Even a tomboy phase. But anyways, you look great with slicked back hairstyles, neat loose natural hair. You Look Royal, in a laid back way. No matter your aesthetic. Virgo, you look best when you take care of yourself, when you look very clean, and tidy. Clean girl aesthetic

Leo, Animal prints look so great. You’re royal in a flashy way. You may feel like you look great in designer clothing or higher end brands. The quality and brand may be of importance to you and you won’t just buy things from anywhere. You’re going to attract looks, because the planets revolve around the sun. You look good being flashy and fully expressing your authentic self and uniqueness, don’t hold back your greatness.

Libra, yall could wear a potato sack and still look great asf. Your facial features are usually very proportionate and balanced. I think your natural glow is what suits you best, and an elegant outfit. You look great showing everyone the embodiment of Venus on Earth, and I think you have “aesthetic” in your genes.

Aquarius, you look good in unisex or androgynous, long or short hair, any colour, you will make it work. Doesn’t matter if things clash, you can make it work. The innovated. Unique style. Dreamy aura, they have an intelligent vibe. You’re giving the audience a taste of the stars. Of intelligence beyond this earth. Cyber /rave styles can look great on them too. Or very artsy looks. Many of them also get into cosplay. They look ethereal so they can embody what isn’t real (anime, cartoons, movie characters etc) People may even say they look like an anime character.

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spinchip · 5 months ago

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The Ninja and Fashion

Back in Ignacia, Kai didn't really give a shit about fashion. He comes to a new appreciation for it when he moves out by Ninjago City, and starts curating a strong personal style. He reads fashion magazines. He watches runways. He posts all his trend opinions on Chirper. he is by far the most fashionable ninja and has his finger on the pulse of what's in style and what's on its way out- and he loves it. He buys moist of his clothes from local shops and has a few custom made designer pieces he breaks out on special occasions.

Cole is fashionable but not in the mainstream. His is more of a classic, rock-punk vibe mixed with a bit of flamboyant camp. he would fit in at a gay bar or a siouxsie and the banshees concert with no issue. Black boots black pants black top old black leather jacket... He mostly only wears black or other dark colors- he has like, one white t-shirt. just in case?? He accessorizes a lot tho. he has one staple black watch he wears purely for looks because it's broken and doesnt actually tell time anymore. but it's cute.

When Nya goes clothes shopping, she's uisually looking for equally fashionable and practical. A skirt with shorts sewn in underneath, high quality running shoes in her favorite colors, and absolutely no strapless tops. what happens if she has to fight in that!? She doesn't have a strong sense of style otherwise, fully able to buy a lot of differently styled clothes and wear them all equally. her wardrobe has all sorts of colors. no big on accessories other than the occasional necklace.

Jay flips wildly between dressing well and looking like a lost and found clothing bin threw up on him. He's more interested in comfort over style for everyday wear, but he can clean up well and put together really nice outfits if the occasion calls for it. He's also pretty great at mending clothes so a lot of his really nice clothes are very well kept and maintained. his favorite hoodie is more mend patches than original fabric at this point. sustainable king.

Lloyd has no sense of style and it drove kai so crazy he forced him to come out shopping with him. All of Lloyds style comes from Kai picking out shirts and pants that all could easily go together mixed and matched. Lloyd TRIES but he's a pattern lover and he'll pair up patters that are so so loud and don't mesh at all and give everyone eyestrain headaches. Kai of course gets Lloyd some clothes that matches lloyds old style, he just gives him a brief rundown on what to pair together to keep him off legoTMZ's worst dressed list when Lloyd asks. Chronic croc wearer. incurable. he has cute jibbitz tho.

Zane wore the most bland, generic outfits ever until he was talking to Kai about fashion and Kai was like, "Fashion is an expression of who you are." and Zane became mildly obsessed with finding out who he was fashion-wise. His clothes are still a little on the boring side, but he has developed a distinct taste with what he wears. it's all very clean cut and timeless. he would be considered a sharp dresser. The others go to him when they need to dress Fancy because a lot of his style is pulling casual from classy. Likes some accessories- earrings, watches, some necklaces. Not a fan of metal chains of rings- metal on metal. rubs on his skin and irritates his sensors.

#i think. i maede this post before but i cant find it so here it is aghain.#zane julien #spinchip posts #ninjago

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raven-cincaide · 9 months ago

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The last piece

Summary: In desperation, you search for a set of wings to complete your last-minute Halloween costume. As you do that, you run into a man who seems to think you have more potential to you than a simple university party girl, and he’s dead set on having you join ‘Jujutsu University’- whatever that is…

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Satoru Gojo Sweetober prompt: 1 Halloween costumes WC: 3K Warnings: Cursing, alcohol consumption, hint at rude behaviour, bullying, suggestive content and relationship between teacher-student.

“ I swear they don’t have them!”

You huffed loudly, couched down into a squat, your hands frantically searching through the piles of plastic bags of the cheaply made costumes carelessly stuffed into the bottom shelf of the tiny pop-up store. You shuffled, reshuffled and pulled out some bags before stuffing them carelessly back into the shelf. Only to repeat the search cycle.

It was an action that earned you the stink eye from the store attendant and the few other patrons who were patiently waiting for you to be done so they could have their go at the few remaining costumes. You didn’t care about the glares, the coughs aimed to get you aware of your surroundings or even the not-so-subtle comments that there were other people in the world beside you. Rather, you raised your shoulder more and pressed your phone closer against your ear so you could better hear your best friend's awkward, mock, sympathetic laugh,

“I am telling you, they don’t have a single pair of black wings. I am not even hoping for bat wings at this point; any wings will do. Just give me the frame, and I’ll fix the rest! But they’re cleaned out: NADA, not a single one!”

“Well, then it sounds like you’ll be going in one of those shitty off-brand get-ups. So what will it be, hun? Slutty nun? Slutty pirate? ohh ohh maybe slutty vampire?” “What? And have Emelie and her goons rub it in my face all night? In that case, I may as well just not show up at all” Your voice came out whiny as you shoved the plastic bags away from yourself back into their draw.

Your eyes filled with hate as you stared at them as though they were somehow at fault for your bad fortune- the leathery bat wings you had spent months creating, designing and sowing had been damaged during a water leak in your apartment. And no matter how much you dried and cleaned them, you couldn’t get rid of the sewer stench. With the Halloween party later that evening, your only other option was to take a ready-made wing frame and re-dress it into cloth and leather. It wouldn’t be fancy, but if you put more emphasis on your make-up and hair, you’d look classy enough. Maybe even like a bat.

“C’mon don’t even joke-”“-If you’re done, wouldn’t it be nice to let others look? This store has the best costumes in town, and it’d be a shame to let them go to waste after all,” A male voice purred behind you in a playful yet rather rude tone with a touch of scolding to it.

You jumped to your feet and spun around. Your lips were set into a surprised ‘0’. This was the first time in ages anyone was able to sneak up on you. This fact instantly put you on edge. You studied the man closely, from his snow-white hair and the black mask which hid his eyes to the dark blue uniform that made him look like he was a cosplayer, all ready for trick-or-treating despite being a decade too old for that. Then again, you weren’t in your teens either, so maybe the pot shouldn’t call the kettle black. He was tall, towering over you and looked rather awkwardly unfitting in the pop-up store, as if he and his long legs didn’t quite fit in the tiny space between your crouched down position and the fluffy fake wigs and fur behind himself.

He was oddly out of place but also comfortable in it.

You released the breath you were holding and stood up. “Whatever”, You huffed as you moved to walk past him, purposefully bumping your shoulder against his. You heard his sharp intake of breath, a murmur ‘interesting’ followed by a stand turning over. You grimaced, a stab of guilt coursing through you- you hadn’t meant to make him stumble or turn something over but you pushed the unpleasant feeling down and just rushed out of the store.

Lingering behind would only embarrass you further.

“Okay so there’s one last open gimmicky store, and you should make it before closing time, so you start by going left..”

Your best friend's voice on the phone was a welcome distraction as your feet carried you down the street away from the commotion you caused. You disregarded the guilt, focusing on a prayer instead. You knew you didn’t deserve divine intervention but you still prayed to whatever god- or demon- that would answer that you’d be able to save yourself from humiliation at the party. You just needed to find a single pair of wings in the last store, that was all. Surely, it is not too large of a request to ask for.

Apparently, it was; luck, god and the devil were not at your side as you left as the day's last customer. There were no wings in sight of any kind, and the only remaining costume in your size was an overpriced Harley Queen version from Suicide Squad. Mini shorts, fishnets, a torn a little too short t-shirt and a flimsy rain poncho they dared call a jacket. You had to buy a baseball bat, accessories, and heels separately.

It was an impulse buy full of desperation. Which you regretted the second you stepped out onto the warm afternoon street. But as you heard the store clerk lock the door behind you, you knew the chances of you being able to return it were beyond non-existent.

“Why such a disappointed face? Want a lollie or something?” It was that male voice again that seemed to pop up out of nowhere. This time he wasn’t behind you, but rather beside you, arms full of bags from different stores; Halloween pop-up store, candy store, Daiso, and a cheap (candy?) pair of fangs poking out of his mouth.

Before you could respond- be it in apology for shoving him into a stand earlier that day or accuse him of stalking you- he reached into one of the bags and the next thing you knew, a plastic headband with giant eyeballs, with googly eye irises and fake blood all over googly eyes tied to long spring wires which bounced in all the direction, made it to your head.

You gaped at his audacity.

The man merely grinned in response. “Because that’s what you youngsters like, right? Gory creepy things. If not, I have cat ears and pumpkins as well.”

You stood stunned for a moment, not knowing what was more insulting, a man close to your age calling you a youngster or the audacity he had to put that ridiculous headband onto you. Either way, you reached up and ripped the headband off your head, messing your hair up completely. “How would I know?! I’m not a ‘youngster’,” you snapped back, throwing the accessory at him.

You saw it hit the ground in front of him and turned on your heel. “Aj aj aj, aren’t you at least going to give it back to me politely? I’ve gone out of my way to do something nice for a stranger, even after she shoves me into a stand” His voice is lighthearted like he doesn’t actually expect you to respond to him.

But your steps falter, your cheeks flush pink, and the twitch of guilt is back.

You knew he was, at best case, jesting and, at worst, manipulating you. But you couldn’t deny his words. You did act incredibly rude towards him just because you had terrible luck, which turned your panties in a twist- with no fault of his. Damned guilt.

Turning on your heel, you walked back to where the Halloween diadem with plastic eyes lay on the ground and picked it up. Another step and you were in the white haired man's personal space. Then you slam it in the only area of him not covered in shopping bags- a part of his upper chest. You feel the silky material of his uniform and the tense rock-hard muscles, and you see the unmistakable grin on his lips. As if he had won the lottery. “Interesting. You’ve got potential and-”

“Thanks, but not interested; try a pick-up line that isn’t licked off the internet” You cut him off, then turned back around and walked away. You tried to keep your head held high and your expression neutral, even as his laughter echoed off the street walls.

Clearly, he found whatever you said ridiculously amusing.

Although you found him infuriatingly intriguing, you forced yourself to stop thinking about him the second your best friend called you up about the latest update on the evening's Halloween party. You were determined not to let her know you had embarrassed yourself twice in front of the same hot guy. After all, the more you thought about the odd white-haired man, the more you were sure you would never run into him again. And if she found out how you behaved, she’d never let you live it down. So you just listened to her rant and rave while you headed home with just enough time to grab some dinner and make a few edits to the not-cheap-yet-cheap-looking Harley attire in an attempt to make it less last-minute obvious before it was time to head out.

The time flew incredibly fast.

The Halloween party was held at one of the largest party buildings on campus. Normally reserved for formal events, it was completely re-decorated into several floors of madness. Fake cobwebs hung from almost every corner; the windows were tinted; some were completely black with white sticker ghosts stuck on them; others had cutouts of bloody handprints. Doors were replaced with creepy, cut or stained shower curtains, and Halloween-inspired Rave and Techno music pulsed through every floor, from pumpkin smashing in the cellar to the corridor of horror in the attic. It was the biggest and longest party of the entire year.

As you stood beside your best friend at the drinks table, inches from the semi-packed dance floor full of zombies, witches and vampires, ‘you felt oddly out of place. It wasn’t that your costume stood out amidst the hundreds ‘sexy’ characters: nurse, maid, pirate, clowns and such. It was that it was too generic; there were at least six other almost identical Harley Queen and as the sevenths walked in through the door, you felt your patience hang on by a thin thread.

The thread grew thinner as you saw Emelie and her group enter as if they owned the entire party. The Childhood-friend-Emelie-who-you-knew-since-kindergarten-but-who’s-mommy -remarried-rich. The one who got her precious popularity by trampling all over you and your image; if she made you the scapegoat and the butt of the joke, no one would have the time to question her and her new money. No, a once friend had become a part of the typical rich girls and guys who thought they were better than the rest of the world because they could wave their daddy’s credit cards.

You hated them about as much as you were jealous of them. Even if they took it upon themselves to rub it in your face whenever they could, how much better they were than you. Or, their new favourite tactic: reminding you how much you didn’t live up to your own image. You saw them stare you up and down and felt your face flush in the darkroom as they whispered among themselves.

A daughter of a seamstress who turned up in a cheap-bought costume.

You saw them make a be-line for you, moved through the crowds that parted for them like the sea for Moses. Inevitably, you knew they wouldn’t let you live it down. You gripped your best friend's arm, a signal that it was time for you two to get out. But she stood frozen in spot. Even as Emelie and her friends appeared in front of you and your best friend, she didn’t bat an eye, ignoring their snarky jabs until they finally looked somewhere behind you. Instantly, their expressions shifted from sadistic to almost flirty.

You brought the glass of punch to your lips before turning your head toward the door. As your eyes landed on a tall man with white hair, black glasses and a more casual get-up of a white shirt, black pants and a cloak- the only ‘Halloween-y’ thing on him, you almost dropped your punch. His eyes landed on you, and he reached his arm up and obnoxiously waved in your direction.

If you hadn’t noticed him before, you sure as hell did now.

He made sure he was impossible to miss, after all. You turned away with a roll of your eyes, but not before you heard his voice cut through the brief silence between songs; “Heeey you never gave me your number, little violent Harley!”

You blinked, then ducked your head down as half of the dance floor turned to face you.

“You know him?” your friend gasped, and you timidly shrugged your shoulders.

“ Is he famous or something?” You asked your best friend, who slapped your shoulder with such force that you gaped at her. The look she gives you is as if you’re the stupidest person on earth. Literary. “That’s Satoru” The name didn’t ring a bell. “Satoru Gojo” Oh old money. Now you understand why half of the student body is glaring at you. Why Emelie looked at you like that. The look in her eyes that so obviously said you weren’t even worthy to be in the same space as him. Let alone speak his name or act as ignorant as you did. The look on her face was full of promises, barbed words that would cut deeper than ever before, a promise to promise to drag your image through the dirt even further until you would never recover–

“There you are!” You felt his arm wrap around your lower waist, purposefully following the outline of your skimpy shorts. His long fingers just barely brushed against your bare side; close enough for you to feel the warmth of his hand, but too far away for it to be gravely inappropriate to touch a stranger. It seemed he settled for just slightly inappropriate in this case. You saw his blue eyes flicker between you and Emelie before turning back to you. “It’s stuffy here, lets head outside.”

Like a knight in shining armour, he ‘stepped in to help you’ while trapping you between a rock and a hard place; you could either dismiss him again and be left in Emelie’s clutches or you could step outside like he wanted you to but causing a sea of rumours in the process.

Either way, your reputation wouldn’t be the same.

You nodded and followed him out, the attention you two caused creating enough commotion for your friend to sneak away elsewhere unnoticed. Once outside, he didn’t stop walking but dragged you further and further towards the dark campus grounds until the pounding music was just a light hum in the background. You breathed a sigh of relief before nerves set in. By reflex, you brought the plastic cup of punch back to your lips, but before you could take a sip, he yanked it out of your hold with his free hand.

“You’re too young to be drinking this” Gojo scolded, taking a large clunk of your alcoholic beverage.

“Hey, I’m of age to drink!” you proclaimed and reached for your cup. He took another clunk before raising it far above your head.

Damned tall bastard.

“Just because you’re of age doesn’t mean you should!” the way he said it made you roll your eyes and you made a sudden jump towards the cup. The hand on your waist tightened, supporting you as you jumped and jumped until you finally wrapped your hand around the rim of the plastic cup and yanked it out of his grip.

You brought it to your lips, a victorious grin, only to realise it was completely empty. “You downed the lot?!”

Gojo laughed, a sound that didn’t sound mocking or malicious. Maybe it was the alcohol getting to your head, but it sounded almost.. Flirty? As if he read your thoughts, he stopped walking and leaned down closer, stopping inches away from you. You realized his eyes were pretty and that he smelled of alcohol, the fruity, sweet smell of punch that barely hid the sharp tang of alcohol. He was hot, and he knew it, and if that wasn’t enough allure, he was old money. The concept of ‘no’ did not exist in his vocabulary- and it showed.

“Come study under me at Jujutsu University.” He said it so casually, as if it was the most honourable offer you would ever get in your entire life.

“I have a degree I’m working towards” You deflected. However, you were painfully aware of his fingers playfully moving a few inches up your bare waist, to the outlines of your t-shirt and then down again.

“We’ll get you a more suitable degree” Gojo declared, and you swore his voice dropped lower into a quiet, seductive purr. “One where you don’t need to hide or be on edge all the time,” Gojo spoke as if he could see right through you, through the rude and almost aggressive facade created to protect your most vulnerable and fragile self. He spoke as if he could see you down to your very core, your fears and insecurities all laid bare for him.

You wanted to lash out at him and tell him he had you all wrong. But the way he held your eyes with an amused twinkle in his own, the grin on his lips that promised nothing but mischief and adventure and the hot hand that never quite stopped moving had you reconsider. His hold on you was tight, demanding, warm, desirable.

The implications and opportunities were unmistakable.

You swallowed thickly; your eyes more boldly ran over his features- his hair, his face, up to his eyes, down to his lips, then over the edge of his shirt, lingered on the brand name you couldn’t pronounce, flickered down to the accessories you realized only looked cheap but were made of precious gems and metals, then back up again. You couldn’t help as your lips pulled up into a shaky smirk. “So, do all teachers at Jujutsu Uni hit on their students?”

“Ahh, but you see my dear, what happens before enrollment; it stays before enrollment, don’t you agree?” He lowered his head a little closer, clearly noticing how your eyes travelled. He had you where he wanted you, not by any altruistic ‘love at first sight’ method, but he’d take what he could get.

The kiss, when it came, was demanding. Still, you couldn’t help but kiss him back. After all, you weren’t about to disagree with your soon-to-be teacher. Your job was to make a good impression on him for some bonus points. Though, given the way his lips moved against yours, you were certain you already had more in your hands than just your admission covered..

When Gojo wants something, he gets it, don't you agree?

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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royaltysuite · 9 months ago

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Sweet Taste... (w/ Karl Heisenberg)

Summary: Right after the meeting with Mother Miranda and the rest of the lords, Heisenberg seems to need his favorite vice in the form of you shivering and whimpering beneath before he faces off with Ethan Winters. You seem to have the same thought to surprise him when he returns home... As the saying goes, great minds think alike.

Warnings: Dom!Heisenberg, Sub!Reader, unprotected p-i-v, Heisenberg fucks you in his work room, fingering, oral (m/f receiving), degradation

Author's Note: Here it is folks, my very first Kinktober 2024 post. The one will fall under the Domination/Submission category. This does not mean it can't be requested again. Each category is open to be requested with different characters. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it! Stay Classy~~~

Wanna Buy Me A Coffee?

When Karl was called away to an audience with Mother Miranda, I had already begun to suspect that he would return home highly upset. It was no secret that he hated being in her presence. After all, what she did to him was something he never wanted.

But, that didn't necessarily mean it didn't give him new gifts.

While Heisenberg was away, I began to prepare for his return. I made my way towards his main workshop which was connected to our bed chambers. The journey there was silent despite the sound of machinery clanging together.

It didn't take long for me to reach my destination and enter the room. Once inside, I quickly shut the door behind me and got to work clearing up some space. It didn't take long for me to get the area somewhat cleaned before I began to get myself ready.

Luckily, his workshop had a built-in shower room so I didn't have to walk too far to quickly shower and get dressed. Though, I did have to enter our shared room to grab my gift for Karl. It was a nice lingerie set that Alcina had gifted me despite Karl's protests.

Honestly those two argue like their true siblings. Besides the point...

I set the box aside on the bathroom counter before hopping underneath the stream of hot, steaming water. I stood under there for a good minute before actually scrubbing myself down with a jasmine infused oil, knowing it would be a welcome scent from the typical blood and grime he was used to.

I scrubbed for a good ten minutes before shutting off the water and drying off. Once dried, I then took the lingerie set and quickly got dressed. As I was in the middle ready, the phone in Karl's workshop began to rang. The loud ring startled me out of my skin and my hand went to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.

The phone then rang three more times after the first. A sequence that only him and I knew in case we needed to contact one another. Once the ring finished, I immediately answered and was greeted by the gruff tone of my husband.

"Doll, you there?" His question pierced in my ear. "Yes, my love. I'm here. How did your audience go with Miranda?" I responded to him. "Not something I want to discuss over the phone. I'll be home soon, so be a good girl and wait for me alright?" The message was clear as day to me.

I knew exactly what he meant and it set the start to the fire in my stomach. Each second was agonizing to me when all I wanted was to feel his rough touch upon my body. But, I knew that if I started without him, I would be in for punishment instead of the pleasure I craved.

Five minutes had passed by in a blink of an eye and the doorknob to the workshop began to wiggle. 'He's here...' I thought, scrambling to make myself look presentable for him. My eyes never left from the door as it creaked open.

They soon landed on my husband's figure as he crossed the threshold into the room. He then saw my form spread out across his desk and he sucked in a sharp breath. "What's all this?" He questioned, his deep brown eyes darkening with lust as they roamed my plush, lingerie-clad figure.

"Just wanted to be a little...stress relief for you. After all, I know how much you hate being near that woman. So, why don't you come here and take what's yours?" That seemed to change something in him because as soon as I finished speaking, his lips immediately met with mine.

The kiss was heated and sloppy. It was like he was trying to devour me whole at that moment. My hands began to aimlessly wander, trying to reach his waistband. Though that didn't sit well with him. "Don't start acting like a brat. You'll get what you want soon enough..." He growled, taking my bottom lip in between his teeth and causing it to draw blood.

I winced softly but let out a whine, wanting nothing more but for him to hurry up and ravage me. Karl then pulled away and flipped me over, my stomach coming in contact with the cold feeling on the desk beneath me. His hands then began to move around my body, lingering along my waistband.

"Wearing such clothing...you must've been wanting to be treated like nothing. Is that what you want, Princess?" "Please, treat me like nothing but a dirty slut..." I moaned, trying to rub my ass against him in an attempt for him to get the hint.

Luckily, he did because as soon as I did, he delivered a swift smack against my right cheek and followed up with another. The sudden strike left me shocked and I gasped out a moan. Heisenberg then took the chance to finally rip off my panties, effectively tearing them to shreds. Well, there goes that pair...

Once the fabric was out of the way, he pulled my legs apart and the sight of my quivering pussy made him grunt as he took in my scent. I could feel his shaking breaths inching closer and closer before his lips attached themselves to my cunt.

Just like when he kissed me, that same passion and desire to devour me came back tenfold. Each flick of his tongue hitting my clit sent tiny sparks to my core. I tried my best to hold back my moans but was met with another strike to my ass. A silent way of him telling me 'Let me hear you...'

Though, I was never the best at keeping quiet when it came to sleeping with my beast of a husband.

Karl kept a solid, steady pace of eating me out - soon bringing me closer and closer to the edge of my first of many orgasms. "Close...i'm so close~" I whined, trying to pull him closer so that I could cum.

But my efforts proved futile as he pulled away, causing me to whine loudly due to my orgasm being ripped away from me. Though that of course didn't bother my husband. He then flipped me onto my back before working to remove his belt and pants.

The sight of his hands running down his body and palming himself through his boxers was one that I loved. Not wanting to lose my orgasm, I tried to finger myself but my hand was caught in his tight grip.

"Didn't I say to be a good little slut?" "P-please, I need-" "Shh, I know what you need, but you'll be digging yourself deeper into a hole if you continue to act up. Now, you wanna be my perfect little slut or a brat that gets nothing?" He questioned, his tone deep and sultry.

As much as I wanted to act out, the need to be fucked-out was much stronger. "I'll be good, I promise~~ Please fuck me!" I cried out, my cries soon turning into moans at the feeling of his length pushing past my entrance.

He fed me inch by inch until the entirety of his cock was nestled deep inside of me. Even without him moving, I could still feel him reach spots that I could never reach with any toy that I had. Not even with my fingers.

Karl, after giving me a few seconds to adjust, began thrusting at a steady pace. The slow drag of his cock against my walls was a feeling that could instantly send me into a euphoric bliss. No longer able to hold back, my moans echoed loudly in the room and if someone were to walk past, they'd know exactly what was happening behind these closed doors.

Pleased by my unspoken choice, Karl smirked and started to increase the pace. He pushed my legs closer to my head and began pounding away without any abandon. It caught me by surprise, but that was washed away completely and was replaced by pure and immense pleasure.

The lewd sound of his hips making contact with my ass. The smell of sweat, sex and ashes. And when he reached in between our bodies to start playing with my clit. It was like my senses went into overdrive and I came right then and there alongside my husband. Though really, I squirted all over his lower body.

This caught Karl by surprise and he chuckled under his breath. "Oh my...baby, how come you never told me you could do that?" "I-i didn't know I could even do that...this is so embarrassing." I stuttered in response, trying yet failing to shield my heated face from his gaze.

He then pulled my hands away from my face and planted a cheek on my cheek before whispering in my ear. "I hope you're ready for more because for the rest of the night, I'm making you do that over and over."

And with those words, he hoisted my naked form into an upright position. The sudden movement caused my legs to lock behind his back and my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, afraid that I would lose my grip and fall.

My husband let out a boisterous laugh before he made his way to the connecting room. Oh how long this night will be...

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Author's Note: And there we have it guys, the first ever post for Kinktober 2024! It honestly took a lot longer than I wanted but that's only because I kept getting distracted by other Kinktober fics. On another note, as stated previously, if there's a topic you'd like to use in any requests/commissions, please let me know. The topics won't be removed so you can ask for any topic with a character you'd like to see written for it. Anyways, that's all and I hope you guys do enjoy reading this! Stay Classy~~

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