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mythicalmisery · 10 months ago

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Bull Rider AU: GhostxSoap

AO3

Bull rider Ghost and clueless Soap who doesn’t know the hat rule.

Soap had a stupid smile on his face as he picked up a discarded, black cowboy hat and put it on his head while turning to Gaz. They had been heading back to their seats after a quick snack break when Soap had spotted it, unable to help himself.

“Ye think I can pull it off?” he asked grinning, completely unaware of the hulking figure that had appeared at his back only moments later.

Soap froze at the deep, yet still whispered, “Don’t think that belongs to ya, mate,” spoken right beside his ear. He could feel the other’s hot breath on his skin.

His eyes went wide, pleading, as he looked at Gaz for a lifeline. His friend had the same expression reflecting back at him, unsure what to do either. Without any help from Gaz Soap turned around.

His eyes met a broad chest clasped in a black leather vest, decorated with various patches of brands and sponsors he had never heard of. He slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s face, or at least what was showing of it. The lower half was covered in a black bandana with a skull design painted onto it.

It was real dusty and the man was clearly one of the riders competing, so Soap didn’t think twice about it. Hell, he wished he had one right now to hide his own embarrassment that was surely written all over his face.

The only thing he could make out underneath the stadium lights were amber eyes and blond lashes that matched his mop of sweat-clumped hair that stuck to his forehead. Those eyes that pinned Soap to where he stood and felt like burning flames licking at his skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out dry and crackly despite his efforts. “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he tossed out in an attempt of easement.

He grabbed the hat off his head, stretching out his hand and offering it back to its rightful owner. The man didn’t remove his gaze from Soap once as he took his hat back.

Soap was all too aware he had been holding his breath during the whole interaction. He was hoping the man wasn’t offended by Soap touching his property. A fight was the last thing he needed right now, especially three beers into his night. His internal panicking was interrupted by the stranger’s gruff voice.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to go ‘round touching things that don’t belong to ya?” Soap took a reflexive step back when the man took a step forward.

He could still see Gaz out of the corner of his eye, which helped a little knowing he wasn’t alone if things went to shite. Although, he would feel really bad if he made Gaz get into an altercation and ruin their night out due to him being an idiot.

Soap laughed nervously. “Always seemed to have a problem with authority and rules.”

That had the other raising a brow. “That right?”

There were alarm bells ringing in Soap’s head. The adrenaline pumping through his veins should have been warning enough but he never claimed to be smart. The man glanced over Soap top to bottom, as if he was assessing him. The undivided attention had goosebumps breaking out over Soap’s skin.

He leaned in closer, invading the already non existent space between them.

“Do ya know what the hat rule is, mate?” he asked with a smirk, like he already knew Soap didn’t.

“Uh, n-no.” Soap felt like a bumbling idiot.

The man simply nodded at the answer he was already expecting. He lowered himself until he was looking over Soap’s left shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap could feel the heat flood his face like a dam opening.

Oh fuck.

It was as if Soap’s mind, mouth, and pretty much whole body went offline. He couldn’t seem to get anything to work after the other man’s words had registered. Well, except maybe one body part, that seemed to be working just fine.

After standing frozen like an idiot once again for too long, he somehow managed to stoke the last dying embers of a functioning brain cell and took control over his body once again.

With a nervous laugh he took a staggered step back, his arms outstretched in a placating way. The man wasn’t angry, but fucking hell was he intimidating and Soap needed some space to breath especially after that comment.

“Oh, well that’s.. uh.. ye know, we really should be getting back to our seats,” he spewed out while grabbing Gaz by the shoulder. Soap didn’t wait for the man to say anything else, leaving him to stand and watch as he scurried away like a coward.

He made a beeline for their section in the stands, subtly adjusting his now uncomfortably tight pants. He glared at Gaz when he made a comment at his flustered appearance, doing his best to block out his incessant teasing. He felt like he was fifteen years old again, popping boners when the wind blew just a little too strongly.

The announcer came back on over the intercom speakers, introducing the next round of riders as they finally reached their seats. Soap did his best to try and focus on the riders in the dirt down below, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that man’s breath on his neck, the way his voice was that deep even at a whisper, the way his eyes made his skin feel like it was lit aflame.

And as if God was playing a cruel trick on him, his gaze was drawn to the rider getting ready to mount the bull in queue. It was him.

He couldn’t make out too many details from this far up, but he was able to spot that familiar mask on the jumbo screen hanging in the center of the arena. The man had his hat on this time. The same hat that Soap had just been wearing. He couldn’t deny it, the man looked good in it.

The announcer chimed in, getting the crowd going. Gaz leaned over, hitting Soap’s shoulder as he whispered, “There’s your man.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth at his friend’s words. Soap glanced back up to the screen, eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for in big, bold letters.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Simon. Fuck. Even his name was hot.

He looked back down to the roping box, the bull that - Simon? Ghost? - was about to ride. It was fucking massive. He could see it already bucking and ramming the sides of the fence from up in the stands and on the screen, clearly pissed off.

The anticipation in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Ghost settled himself on the bull. While the men around him steadied him with their hands, Soap’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t even know the man but his stomach was twisting into knots.

He watched as Ghost adjusted his grip on the bull rope and flexed his hand, his muscles tensing under the strain displayed on the big screen.

Soap’s breath stuttered as the gate flew open, the bull exploding out into the arena twisting and bucking with raw power. Ghost moved with fluid precision; the man’s arm raised into the air, his waist snapping back and forth in perfect sync with the bull’s wild movements. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated by the sight.

The crowd roared around him, cheering and shouting their encouragement as Ghost held on. Soap found himself leaning forward in his seat, his breath caught in his lungs. He silently willed Simon to stay on just a few seconds longer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride. Ghost leaped off the bull, landing as gracefully as one could while running from a crazed animal with horns. Soap’s heart was still pounding as he watched Ghost run back toward the gate, somehow still maintaining his casual demeanor as he climbed over.

He watched as the rider disappeared behind the gate and out of sight. Gaz elbowed him playfully, a knowing grin on his face. “Go congratulate your cowboy, he just one first place,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Soap whipped his head to the scoreboard, eyes scanning before he saw Ghost’s name jump to the top as his points were entered. He couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across his face.

“Ye sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, already standing up. Gaz scoffed, “Get the fuck outta here Soap.”

Soap put his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Garrick.”

He turned around and nearly sprinted down the stairs, cursing the crowds blocking his way. He had to make it down there before the rider left.

Soap finally managed to make it down to the ground floor, booking it to the area cornered off for the riders and their crew. He got farther than he thought he would before security stopped him, asking for his pass that he clearly didn’t have.

He tried a handful of excuses but there wasn’t any reasoning with the man. He was about to ask if he could at least pass on a message for him before he felt someone brush up against his back.

“He’s with me.”

Soap swallowed. That low, gravelly voice back in his ear. Right where he wanted it.

The security guard stood there a moment before he nodded at Ghost and walked away, as if Soap wasn’t even there.

It took a herculean effort for Soap to turn around. He was very close to losing his nerve and chickening out of this whole ordeal. Hell, he didn’t know this man. What was he doing?

“Now, what are ya doing all the way over here. Breaking more of those rules, I see,” he said forcing Soap to take a step backwards.

Soap cleared his throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “Well, I figured I would congratulate the winner.”

“That so?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

Soap took a step forward in a random burst of boldness. Now or never.

“Aye, I also think I owe ye a debt,” he punctuated by grabbing the hat off the man’s head and placing it upon his own.

Soap wasn’t sure if it was the passing headlights from the sea of cars and trailers behind them, but he swore Ghost’s eyes flashed at his words. He leaned down in a mirror image of their earlier interaction, a strained “Follow me,” was spoken in his ear.

Soap let out a deep breath as he watched the man walk away. Not ashamed to admit he enjoyed watching him as he did so. Fuck. This was happening.

They walked through a dirt and gravel lot off to the side of the arena. Soap observed the ranchers loading the livestock back into trailers under the parking lot lights as they passed through.

They ended up on the outer edge of the lot, the closest light post was a few cars down so it wasn’t overly bright where they were. Soap nearly missed it when Ghost turned a corner around a large parked trailer.

He followed suit, unable to stop the embarrassing yelp that left his mouth as he was thrown against the side of said trailer. All thoughts of cursing the man out disappeared when Ghost’s lips were crashing against his. The initial impact had him grunting, the sounds immediately swallowed by Ghost’s domineering mouth.

Soap couldn’t breathe, and normally he wouldn’t have any complaints about the matter given the situation, but he was starting to get lightheaded. He reached his hands up, gripping onto that leather vest and regretfully pushed the man off of him. He gasped at the separation, greedily filling his lungs at the first opportunity.

“Air, air is good,” he wheezed out.

The bastard huffed a laughed right in Soap’s face. Between the night sky and Soap’s racing mind, he hadn’t quite registered that Ghost had taken off the bandana from earlier. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, just barely making out the details of the face currently six inches from his own.

He was fucking beautiful.

Soap didn’t need sunlight to come to that conclusion. He had strong features; a Roman nose that had clearly been broken one too many times and never healed quite right, full lips that had a small scar running across the bottom as if it had been split in a fist fight and never got the proper stitches. He had another scar going from his chin to his neck, the moonlight illuminating the silvery healed skin that was no doubt part of an impressive collection.

Soap couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face when he realized how blatantly he’d been checking out the other man. To his credit, Ghost just stood there; not saying a word while letting him have his fill.

His attention drifted back to reality when a wave of lights and shadows danced across their faces as a car drove by. Soap unconsciously grabbed onto Ghost’s vest, pulling him onto himself while trying to melt into the trailer out of fear of getting caught.

“Relax,” Ghost whispered.

His mouth moved down to Soap’s jaw, kissing his way across his flushed skin until he reached his ear. Soap couldn’t help the full body shutter that racked through him as the man licked up the shell of his ear before biting down on the tender cartilage.

He turned his face slightly to the right in a poor attempt at stifling his moan in Ghost’s shoulder as the other slotted his knee right between his legs.

Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how hard he was before Ghost started grinding against him.

The friction was almost unbearable, just the right amount of pain to still be pleasurable but still not enough. “More,” he groaned out. All reservations about sounding too desperate were out the door, he needed this man. Now.

Ghost turned his head to stare directly at Soap with a smirk plastered on that stupidly handsome face.

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased.

He didn’t even give Soap time to defend himself before he was reaching down to undo his belt buckle and slide his hand down Soap’s boxers.

“Fuuuck,” Soap hissed out as Ghost gripped his cock with those rough and calloused hands. Every twist of the man’s wrist had a jolt of pleasure shooting up Soap’s spine. His hand had felt like a branding iron, scorching to the touch and Soap had no complaints over the claim.

He was full on panting now. The only air he could manage to get was what Ghost allowed him when his lips granted reprieve.

Soap was gradually nearing his breaking point. He normally would have been embarrassed for not lasting longer, but he decided to give himself a break when he’d been sporting a semi nearly the entire second half of the event. No thanks to the bastard who currently had his tongue shoved down his throat.

Soap hadn’t even realized the involuntary bucking of his hips, his body’s feeble attempt to get off. The shallow thrusts got quicker, insinuating his building release. Just as Soap was about to reach that blissful moment he had been craving all night, Ghost snatched his hand away and removed them from Soap’s pants entirely.

“Oh, you fuckin’ bastard,” Soap spat out at the other man.

Ghost stood straight before clicking his tongue. “We have a debt that needs paid now don’t we, darling?” he cooed at Soap who did his best to not let the pet name affect him too much.

Soap groaned in frustration. “Then hurry the fuck up cause I’m not gonna last much longer, ya fucker,” he growled out.

Ghost shook his head at him. “Ya sure do have a mouth on ya,” he stated.

“Aye, ye can do something about it next time.” Soap didn’t really care that he just left an opening for this to occur again, mind too preoccupied on the fact his balls felt like they were about to explode.

Ghost had that smug look back on face as he reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a set of black keys and pressed a button, the black truck behind him flashing its lights twice before he put them back.

“Are ye kidding me? Your car was here the whole time?,” Soap whined.

“Sounds an awful lot like complaining, mate. Not a fan of being watched, are ya?” Ghost taunted. The way he talked to Soap like he was a child was some fucked up mix of extremely hot and infuriating.

Soap glared at the man. “Get the fuck in the back seat. Now.”

Despite Ghost narrowing his eyes, Soap didn’t leave any room for argument and the other man complied with no further complaints.

Ghost climbed into the back of the truck, spreading out across the seats with his hands resting behind his head as he looked at Soap. Well, didn’t he just look like the cat who got the cream.

God, he was fucking hot.

Soap climbed in after him without another word. With the door closed, the lights in the truck went out and the space was filled with darkness once again. Soap was straddling the man’s massive thighs, nearly hanging off the edge. It was cramped, barely any room to move but he would make it work. Had to make it work.

“Just gonna sit there and look pretty, darling?,” Ghost snarked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, fuck off,” Soap replied with no real heat. He reached out to undo Ghost’s belt, hoping the way his throat bobbed at the clear outline in the man’s pants wasn’t visible in the moonlight. Good lord he was massive. That earlier apprehension started to slowly creep back in and wash away his false confidence.

Ghost made another one of those clicking sounds with his tongue that had Soap freezing his movements. When he looked up into the man’s eyes, he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped. Ghost had a way of looking at him that sent every warning bell and nerve in his body off like a crack of lightning. Like a predator finally catching his prey after having it in its sights for too long.

“Get undressed,” Ghost demanded.

Normally, Soap would put up a fight just to be an ass, but he didn’t have much fight left in him at this point. He was so on edge, so close to finally getting off he was honestly scared what he would do just to make it happen. With nothing more than a roll of his eyes in complaint, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. It was only a matter of minutes before Soap was spread across the man’s lap in the back seat, completely naked.

He felt like his brain was melting. There shouldn’t have been something so hot about the fact he was completely naked and bare while Ghost hadn’t even removed so much as his hat during all this. He could feel the rough denim on the sensitive skin of his thighs, the cold buckle from the man’s belt when he leaned forward just an inch. Soap wasn’t even ashamed when he realized he had been slowly grinding himself against the man, anything to ease his burning desire.

Ghost finally spoke up, but Soap didn’t even stop his movements. “What’s your name?” he asked with that low and rough voice. Soap’s own ego was slightly stroked, he could hear the strain in the man’s voice despite the calm demeanor he was trying to convey.

“John, but most people call me Soap,” he breathed out. He was two seconds away from ripping the clothes off this man himself.

“Soap? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Says the man called Ghost?” he quipped back.

“Alright, I’ll give ya that one. Why don’t you go on and get yourself ready for me, darling?,” he asked, but they both knew it was another command.

Soap couldn’t help the pointed stare he threw at the man. “Ye gonna make me do all the work, is that it?”

Ghost’s lopsided smile was answer enough. “I’m not the one who picked up the hat, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Fuck, why was that so hot to hear coming from his mouth? He really needed to get this thing moving.

Soap held his fingers out in front of the man’s mouth. When all he got was a questioning look in response, he rolled his eyes and pushed them against his lips. “Suck,” was all he said, patience wearing thin now.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly, letting Soap glide his fingers over his tongue. They were probably dirty as hell, covered in germs and popcorn butter but he didn’t really care at this point. The bastard would live.

He was mesmerized as he watched Ghost work his tongue across his fingers. His mouth was hot, but nothing compared to the flames dancing across his skin as Ghost never lost eye contact during the whole ordeal. He could probably cum from this alone.

Before that thought became reality, Soap pulled his hand back. Watching the string of spit connecting his fingers to Ghost’s mouth glisten in the moonlight.

He cursed lowly as he gripped himself in one hand, rising slightly before reaching around. He entered himself without a fuss, moaning at the friction as he slid his fingers in further. It burned a little, Ghost’s spit only helping ease the way so much. He preened like a peacock when he felt, more like heard, the other man’s sharp inhale below him.

He started moving with a little more urgency at that, opening himself up while rocking his body back and forth. He wasn’t overly moaning like a whore, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hold back anything either. Quite enjoying the sharp little intakes of air and jerky movements of the man beneath him. He managed to get up to three fingers before he found that particular spot inside him. This time, his moans might have been a little porn starry. Ghost finally lifted his hands at that, gripping onto Soap’s hips like he was his lifeline.

Soap wasn’t having any of that. He swatted the man’s hands away, pushing down on his chest with the hand not currently inside him when Ghost tried to protest. “No touching,” he scolded, taking great pleasure in the frustrated look on his face.

Ghost grunted in response, like a damn toddler who didn’t get his way. “Awww,” Soap cooed at him, “Needy little thing, aren’t ye?” he said, throwing the other man’s words against him.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at that, but didn’t complain any further. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so,” Soap replied.

This time, when he went to undo Ghost’s belt, he wasn’t met with any resistance. With quick movements, he had Ghost pulled out in no time. Fucking hell. Massive was an understatement. It took everything in Soap to school his emotions. He wasn’t letting this bastard know how intimidated and equally impressed he was. He must have done a shit job cause Ghost had that satisfied, smug look back on his face. He could probably read minds for all he knew.

Soap gave a few quick pumps to Ghost’s cock before he lined himself up. He froze just as the other man was about to enter him.

“The hat,” he said. It took a while before Ghost could tear his eyes away from where Soap hovered over his cock, the words finally registering before he reached up and placed his hat on Soap’s sweat-slicked mohawk.

They were both burning up, feeling like a damn sauna in the backseat of the truck. The windows had fogged up a while ago as they swapped air in the small space, thankfully providing a thin form of privacy.

Soap smiled as he adjusted the hat with one hand, the other still lining Ghost up as he slowly lowered himself down.

Fuck.

They both moaned in chorus as Soap’s still too-tight heat enveloped Ghost’s cock. He sunk lower and lower at a glacial pace, letting gravity do the work and take some of the strain off his shaky legs.

He bottomed out eventually, resting on Ghost’s hips as he caught his breath. Ghost was panting below him, chest heaving as his body was strung tight with tension. Soap knew the man was dying to take control. Too fucking bad.

When Soap’s world wasn’t spinning anymore, he lifted himself back up before repeating the process all over again while setting a steady pace. He wasn’t going very fast, but he didn’t really need to. Ghost was so big that he reached all the spots he needed him too, the stretch and burn sending bolts shooting up his spine was enough for him.

He gripped tightly onto Ghost’s leather vest with his right hand, his own make shift bull rope as his left held onto the black hat resting on his head. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ghost, but he still had to lean and bend at a weird angle to fit in the cramped space. He started to pick up a little speed, his movements mimicking Ghost’s from when he rode the bull earlier. Soap snapped his own hips back and forth, occasionally grinding down in a circular motion that had Ghost groaning unabashedly.

He wasn’t normally one to be overly cocky, but he basked in the satisfaction of ruining this man. That calm and collected demeanor washed away by the panting, barely held back animal beneath him. Hell, he was equally just as ruined. He couldn’t contain the little punched out moans that escaped every time Ghost hit his prostate on each rock backward. He wouldn’t last a minute longer and judging by the shaking man before him, he wasn’t the only one.

“S-Simon, pleaaase,” Soap groaned out between moans. He tried to convey everything he was thinking and wanted in that one word. Ghost being the mind reader he was picked up on it without dropping a beat. Like he was waiting for it.

He immediately grabbed onto Soap’s hips with enough force to bruise. Fuck, Soap wished they would. With one last glance at the man below him, Soap closed his eyes as Ghost started jackhammering into him. The car was a symphony of curses, moans, and grunts. Neither man holding back now. Soap removed his hand from the hat and pushed it against the ceiling, trying desperately to find purchase and not fall over. The rough movements had the sweat from his forehead running down his face, beads dropping onto Ghost’s chest off his nose and chin. He couldn’t find a single fiber of his being that cared.

His end was nearing and he wasn’t going to deny it this time. “Fuuuck, don’t s-stop,” he moaned as Ghost abused his prostate at the angle they were in. If Ghost decided now was a good time to tease the man, Soap would probably end up committing murder.

He could tell Ghost was almost at his breaking point as well. The man’s thrusts started to become wild, losing all sense of coordination as he chased his release. Soap screamed out when Ghost lifted his hand off his hip and grabbed his cock, pumping it in an off beat against his thrusts, never allowing Soap a second of reprieve from overwhelming sensation.

“Go on, cum for me, Johnny,” he rasped out. Who was Soap to deny him?

Soap’s whole body seized as Ghost slammed into that bundle of nerves harder than he’d done all night. It felt like lightning was shooting through his body as his vision whited out. He didn’t even feel bad that he made a mess all over Ghost’s vest, too blissed out to even care. Ghost lasted around three and a half thrusts more before he was following Soap over the edge as well, cursing his name as he did. It was the best thing Soap had ever heard in his life. He responded with a groan as he felt Ghost empty out inside him. The feeling making his own spent cock twitch in response. Round two was not an option currently on the table. Soap felt like rolling over on the floor right there and taking a twenty hour nap after this. He didn’t think Ghost would mind very much.

They sat there for a few minutes, chests heaving and skin sweaty where they were still connected. Soap started looking around, his eyes scanning the man’s truck before he found what he was looking for in the center console. He popped the lid off and held it between his teeth as he unzipped Ghost’s soiled vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He ignored the curious eyes watching his movements. With the man’s chest now bear, Soap moved the marker to scribble out his number in his chicken scratch. He pulled back, looking down at his work with a satisfied expression as he capped the marker and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Give me a call next time you’re in town, cowboy,” he said as he slowly raised himself off of Ghost’s softening cock.

He wasn’t sure if the man had even heard him. His attention drawn to where he pulled out of Soap, his cum slowly starting to drip down his thighs. It was gonna be an uncomfortable ride home. He glanced around and grabbed his discarded clothes, doing his best to put them back on in the limited space. Ghost just sat there watching him, lounging across his backseat without a care in the world.

Soap finally managed to put his shoes back on, pulling out his phone and ordering an Uber ride. He turned down Ghost’s offer to drive him home, he needed to get away from the man so his brain wasn’t mush anymore. With one last glance around, he leaned over Ghost on his knees.

“Ye know, I like this hat. I think it’s mine now,” he stated.

“That so?” Ghost asked as he looked up at Soap.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Ye know what that means?”

“What?” Ghost responded, genuinely curious.

Soap lifted up the hat before lowering down, placing it back onto Ghost’s head as he whispered low in his ear. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap didn’t say anything else as he exited the vehicle. The smile was uncontrollable as he walked across the gravel lot back to the car pick up zone.

A man with a short circuiting brain laid in the backseat of his car behind him.

#ghostsoap #ghostxsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #bull riding au #bull rider Ghost

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dontbesoweirdkira · 9 months ago

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A/N: Obssesed with mortal kombat rn so i naturally had to dive into invincible. I love mark but i love him being evil even more so...hehe

Requests: open

Plot: yandere! mark grayson finds you hanging out with your friends and is missed off about it. He hates when your attenion is elsewhere because he's an attention whore...lol ooc-ish?

masterlist

"You didn't think I would be able to find you, did you babe?" a familiar voice spoke from above you

Looking upwards, you were a bit startled to see your boyfriend mark in the air. He was in his full uniform and took his mask off when you noticed him. A disingenoius smile was on his face, you could tell that he was not pleased.

Earlier this morning, Mark had to leave to handle a few pressing matters and told you he'd be back sometime late that night, if not the next day. Figuring you had an entire day to burn alone, you reached out to your friends to join in with their plans. They were headed to the fair just later in the evening and were stoked you finally could spend time with them again.

Mark hated any interactions you had outside of him. You didn't need anyone besides him. He's the one who always keep you safe, he's the one that loves you the best. Your "friends" are all subpar beings that do nothing for you and he made thses rather *strong* opinions very clear. So as you can imagine, coming back to see that you jumped at the opportunity to be with them the second he had left, set him off.

"You weren't where I left you. What did I tell you about running off?" his question seemed like harmless playful banter but you could hear the underlying annoyance with it.

"Oh! Mark, i was just hanging out wit-"

"I can see that."

By this point, your friends and a couple of standbyers were paying attention to the confrontation at hand. All a bit unsettled by his demeanor towards you, but too afraid of what might conspire against them if they interjected.

"where's your phone? Did you turn it off?"He questioned you once more, this time cutting you off as he lowered himself closer to you. Though he remained slightly hovered over you to assert his authority. His arms crossed as he eagerly waited for your response.

"I-no? It shouldn't be. Here, let me check." A little confused by the question you fumbled through bag until you stumbled across your phone.

Mark was a possessive tyrant. If you *were to go out alone, you needed to not only update him the entire time but also share your location so he could track you down if he needed to. You weren't allowed to silence your calls or ignore him. You certainly couldn't take longer than a few minutes to respond to his texts for he would be in a passive-aggressive mood for the rest of the day. Saltily, he'll drag out the entire thing. You're guilt-tripped into begging for his forgiveness.

"I tried calling you a thousand times, but you ignored me. Not to mention your location was unavailable.. I'd like to find out why."

"No, that couldn't of happened. See-" pulling out your phone, you go to show you boyfriend that your location was on but that there just wasn't any service at the fair. Nothing was coming through. You thought proving your innocence of not purposefully ignore him would calm him down but he didn't buge.

His face became increasingly dark, his eyes narrowed and he shifted in his position. That wasn't enough for him. You shouldn't even have come here. You shouldn't be with them. You should be in the safety of his home, right where he left you. How stupid are you to go to some event where you can't even have access to your phone to call him if you get in danger.

You've left him worrying sick and exploring the city to find you. If it wasn't for some stupid flyer he saw on the ground, advertising the opening of the fair, he would've still been searching. His glare shifted over towards your friends. his anger seething at the thought of them curropting your obedience..stealing your precious attention. They're no good for you, this is why he keeps them away.

"It's a fair, Marky. You can't keep her couped up all the time. Let her have some fun for once." Idiotically, one of your friends defended you. They meant well, seeing as this wasn't even the first time Mark has overreacted to you spending time with them. But your lover didn't take to kindly to the remarks.

Mark's jaw tightened and his fists balled so tightly, you could audibly hear the grotesqueness of his bones cracking. His gaze turned back unto you.

"You don't think that i let you have fun?" his teeth gritted out his question

"uhh..let..her...?" Your friend spoke once more, concerned by his choice of words

Swiftly moving from you to just inches away from your friend's face, Mark raised up his hands to their throat and made a gesture strangulation,

"You're so lucky there's whitnesses here because if not I'd-"

"Mark!" you exclaimed his name in disbelief that he'd let his jealousy get to the point of threatening your friends. He took a long, deep breath out before turning his body towards you. He reached out his arms and beckoned you to come and take you into his embrace.

"Let's go." he demanded

You hesitated for a minute, looking over at the group. You were fustrated and truky embarrased by your boyfriends repeated actions. You loved Mark dearly but he's just so draining...He wants so much out of you that it was hard to enjoy his presence as much as you enjoyed your friends. He's only gotten worse with time, as you looked at their disgruntled faces, you pondered if it was even worth going back home with him..everyone around you seemed to be just as offset by him as you were. You knew if you contiened to obey him, that you'll loose everyone that you cared about.

"No. I'm not ready to go yet. You can meet me back at home when i'm done."

"...what did you just say?" His question was rehtoric and you better not actually repeat your words if you valued yourself and your friends.

"Mark- I need time away from you. I'm going to say out with them until I'M ready to leave."

Mark shot the most murderous glare over towards you group of friends. They were all going to pay for this...one by one, they will groesomely leave this earth. But first, he needed to handle you and you defyance. Without any second thought, he grabbed your arm, and pulled you into his body. A harsh burst of air let out from beneath him as he shot off into the orange sky. By the end of the day, you will regret your actions...

#headcanon #imagines #oneshot #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #mark grayson #invincible #nolan grayson #mark grayson invincible #yandere mark grayson

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sashaisready · 1 year ago

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This Must Be The Place: Chapter 5 - I feel numb

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Bucky is a dick in this one. Angst! Jealousy! Idiots who don't communicate!! But I’m loving Steve...He’s moving in a different direction than planned but I’m enjoying it.

Surprise chapter drop! This came outta nowhere lol. Thanks again for all your reblogs and comments, I truly can’t emphasise enough how much they mean to me.

You had whiplash after the kiss with Bucky in the office. It all happened so fast, so fast you didn’t even really think about it. Not that you needed to, your body thought and spoke for you. Every feeling you had for him was poured into that kiss. Every stolen glance, every secret second of pining. Kissing him felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if you were meant to be doing this. A tiny part of you had almost hoped that if you ever did manage to kiss him, that it would be bad…or worse - uneventful. Then maybe the mediocrity would snap you out of your infatuation and allow you to move forward, finally stop you crushing on a man who you knew would be no good for you.

Alas, no. It had only stoked the embers, the fire for him burning brighter than ever before.

That night you had driven home, Clint riding alongside you on his bike until you were safely behind the front door. That was sweet. You had insisted you were fine and apologised to him for the waste of gas, but he was nonplussed. A loyal soldier doing his duty.

You had laid awake in Granny’s old bed that night, wondering what exactly had led Bucky to make a move. Yes, there had been a bit of flirtation between you both, but you’d got the impression he was like that with women generally – especially if his interactions with Amber and co were anything to go by. You’d met many flirts in your time, and you knew better than to pin hopes and feelings on a bit of banter. Some flirts treated it like a sport, getting girls to fall for them with a few sweet words and well-timed winks just to see if they could. Others just did it to pass the time, enjoying the buzz of the exchanges but never really intending it to go further. You didn’t know which category Bucky fell into, but you were smart enough to keep your wits about you. Or at least try to...

He seemed genuinely shaken up by the incident with the customer, angry that he hadn’t been there to save the day and keep his employees out of harm’s way. Was he worried about you? Or was it a bit of a macho display to save face in front of the MC? Someone had caused trouble on his turf, after all. You didn’t know. Why had he even hired you? Did he like you, or were you just a bit of fun that he knew had an expiration date when you sold the house? Did he feel the same way you did, or just think you were a good time girl who would serve him beer and maybe let him into your pants for a few quickies after hours? You didn’t know. But a glimmer of optimism was blooming.

And just how far would the kiss have gone if Sam hadn’t interrupted? You definitely didn’t know that. All you knew was the dizzying feeling you’d felt when he’d kissed you…and just how down bad you were.

Ugh.

To your disappointment, and possibly helping to confirm where Bucky stood, you didn’t hear from him over the next few days. Only a cursory text from Steve to confirm your next shift. You weren’t sure what you expected, but making out with your boss in the back office wasn’t a regular work activity for you – you at least thought he’d text or something. But maybe that’s where you were going wrong. Maybe that was a typical Sunday night at the bar for him.

You pulled up into the parking lot of The Snake Pit on Wednesday evening to begin your shift. As you wandered in, various members of the MC greeted you and asked about your injuries. You smiled and amiably chatted back, reassuring them all was fine. Nat gave you a wave over by the jukebox before berating Sam about his song choice. Just another regular shift. If anyone knew about your little tryst with Bucky, nobody gave anything away to suggest it.

As you got to the bar, Steve was leaning across it and meticulously inspecting a CCTV camera he must’ve unscrewed from the ceiling. You said hi to Tom who was already working, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he acknowledged you while very carefully cutting up some lemons.

“Still playing up, huh?” you asked Steve as you started putting clean glasses away.

“Yep,” he replied without looking up. “I thought the connection was loose, but I can’t see any problems with it – so I think it’s something with the individual cameras”.

A couple of the cameras had been on the blink for a week or so, leaving surveillance blindspots in the bar. Bucky was very blasé about it all, but Steve was clearly nervous.

“Want me to call the repair guy?” you asked as you worked around him.

Steve grimaced. “Not yet…I’m just gonna have a play around and see if I can figure it out”.

You poured him a beer as he pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and began opening up the camera’s case.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as you placed the glass in front of him. He hadn’t looked up at you the whole time you’d been there. It would’ve bothered you when you first started here, but you knew now that was just how he was.

“How’s the arm?” he asked suddenly, his eyes still locked on the task in front of him.

“All good, thanks. Bandage was off the next day”.

“Good. And the head?”

“Also good. Just had a bit of a fetching goose egg on my head for a few days”.

“Eh, a look you pulled off, I’m sure”.

You smiled. Steve may have been a man of few words, but he did listen. He did care.

“And don’t worry about that guy. He wouldn’t dream of coming back here. Trust me”.

“Thanks, Steve”.

“Mmm. Y‘welcome” he muttered.

He went quiet again, and you knew that meant the conversation was finished for now so you continued working.

You were just re-stocking the bottle fridges when you realised you hadn’t seen Bucky around yet. You did a quick scan of the room when the front door suddenly flew open.

You couldn’t help the wave of nausea that rushed through as you watched Bucky sweep into the bar, Amber glued to his side as she giggled hysterically at whatever he’d just said. He’d never been that funny, you thought.

Some of the MC members called out to him and he hollered back. Amber was clinging to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He dashed by the bar and his eyes caught yours as he walked. He seemed to give you a double take as he stopped.

“You’re working tonight?” he asked, pointing at you accusingly. “I thought you were in tomorrow”.

“Well, hello to you too,” you mumbled back, a little grouchier than planned. But you couldn’t deny that you were expecting a warmer reception.

“I scheduled her,” Steve replied gruffly. “You know those guys from the manufacturing plant are in here Wednesday nights after their shift. We need all hands on deck”.

As if on cue, Tom stumbled behind you and nearly dropped the liquor bottles he was holding.

“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“Buuuucky,” wailed Amber as she tugged on his kutte. “C’moooon…”

Bucky huffed. “Alright…”

He looked at you for a split second, but then they moved over to the other side of the bar. You finally exhaled. You felt stupid. What did you expect? He was going to sweep you up and continue kissing you in front of everyone? You hadn’t even heard from him. God, you thought you’d grown out of this type of thing. Your embarrassment curdled into anger.

As you seethed silently, Steve spoke up again. Well, it was more like a growl than anything as you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I said,” and his blue eyes flickered to finally look at you, “Don’t believe everything you see”.

You frowned. “Cryptic…”

“You heard me”.

You watched as he turned and pointedly looked over at Bucky and Amber. Bucky was chatting away to Nat as Amber held onto his metal arm with a vice grip, holding court with the other girls. She was showing Bucky off like a prize.

You felt your face flush. Did…he know? Did Bucky tell him about what happened between the two of you? And what was he inferring about Bucky and Amber?

You went to question him further, but he slipped off the bar stool without another word, zipping off across the room to reattach the CCTV camera.

The shift was a particularly painful one. You had to stand and watch as Amber was all over Bucky like a bad rash. He wasn’t necessarily reciprocating her attention – moving through the group drinking, chatting, but equally he wasn’t shaking her off, either. He seemed perfectly happy to have an Amber-shaped appendage, occasionally giving her breadcrumbs in the form of a smile or a wink which she happily devoured. He hadn’t acknowledged you since his admission of surprise that you were here.

Ugh.

Fortunately for you, Steve’s prediction about the plant guys keeping things busy was entirely correct. You and Tom would have bursts of activity as the group all seemed to go in for another round at once, then moments of quiet as they guzzled their drinks back at the tables. You were grateful for the distraction.

The hours clicked by towards the end of the night, and you were tired. Tired of being on your feet all evening. Tired of picking up the slack for Tom. Tired of keeping up with the plant guys who seemed to have bottomless pits inside them that no amount of beer could fill. Tired of how embarrassed you felt by Bucky’s rejection. Tired, tired. Your tank was empty.

The bar had emptied out with only a few stragglers left alongside the MC, so you started cleaning up and closing. You were just stacking some dirty glasses when the high-pitched giggle cut through the air.

You and Tom both turned to see Amber sitting rather unashamedly in Bucky’s lap, giggling as she ran her finger across his chin. He looked back at her with amusement, grinning like a fool.

You squeezed the glass you were holding so tightly that it was a miracle it didn’t break. All the feelings you’d been suppressing suddenly bubbled up, your stomach a nauseating soup of fatigue and hurt. And some rage thrown in for good measure.

“Oh man, she’s so hot…” Tom practically drooled.

That didn’t help.

“I’m just gonna change the Bud barrel,” you muttered in reply, your voice monotonous.

You slipped out through the door behind the bar and quickly rushed down the stairs to the quiet basement where the barrels and stock were kept. Grateful for the privacy, you threw your hands flat against the concrete wall and bent your head towards the floor, exhaling. It took you a moment, but you managed to compose yourself. God, you were stupid.

You unhooked the old barrel and got to work replacing it with the new one, relieved to be doing something with your hands. You berated yourself for getting to this point. A brief make-out session with your boss was hardly a binding contract. It didn’t mean anything. Nothing. Bucky probably got up to more mayhem before 10am most weekdays with his little harem of women. You were just another skirt to him. Jesus. How silly you’d been. You realised maybe you’d let yourself to be caught up in this crush to distract yourself from your Granny and the house. And it was a welcome distraction. But here you were, hiding in the basement at your job and feeling like a high schooler whose crush had invited someone else to prom.

Enough.

You inhaled and finished the task, standing back up and wiping your hands on your jeans.

You straightened up your back and shook your limbs out as you climbed back up the stairs. Time to do what you did best. After all, the only way is through.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #this must be the place fic #biker!bucky #motorcycle club au bucky

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jd-loves-fiction · 1 year ago

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𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Minors DO NOT INTERACT thanks. also DONT USE SALIVA AS LUBE THIS IS THE MIDDLE AGES WAAAAHH

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anyway I havent written anything in a hot second, especially smut, so i might've lost my touch but this man makes me insane. Hope its still enjoyable anyway and im working on some fluffy stuff as well whoop enjoy :)

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

You didn't see it – you were too damn busy staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, lashes lowered ever so slightly in a way so tender it might as well have been what knocked you over.

“Oh goodness.” Sir Gawain exhales a second after the splash, arms reaching for you a little too late. Turns out he’d been lost staring at you as well. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I–” You start to deny it but think better of it. It’s Gawain, he’d know the answer just from looking at you. “I’m cold. And wet. And tired.”

“I see. Let’s find ourselves a place for the night, yes? The storm from last night might be coming back.” He tells you, reaching out a large hand to pull you up. You take it without hesitation.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably.

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide.

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance.

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul.

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could.

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.

Your mind is eerily quiet as you come down, blinking eyes you don't recall closing and feeling the next king breathe against your naked chest while gathering himself. After a moment he raises himself on shaky arms to gaze down at you, hand reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek and sighing as if suddenly, all is right in the world.

#sir gawain #green knight #dev patel #dev patel x reader #green knight x reader #gawain x reader #sir gawain and the green knight #the green knight #sir gawain x reader #gawain smut #green knight smut #smut

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smokescreenimusprime · 10 months ago

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For guard duty would smokescreen tell alpha trion about Optimus offering him the matrix of leadership or would alpha trion find out on his own? Since ultra Magnus was picking up all the autobots what would ultra Magnus and wheeljacks reaction to Alpha trion being there and the autobots and the kids reaction when they didn't see smokescreen with Alpha trion?what would their reactions be when Alpha trion told them that smokescreen went to go save Optimus what would the autobots think about that? What about the aftermath when they took down darkmount and Optimus joins them in battle with his new frame?

I have so many questions about this so sorry if it's a bit long 😭

Oooooo this is a fun ask :)

let's do this all in chronological order:

Ultra Magnus was NOT expecting to find Alpha Trion. Sure he was on the lookout for Autobots, but Alpha Trion has been supposedly dead at best and captured at worst for millions of years, and yet here he is on this backwater organic planet that's crawling with Decepticons and the supposed last remaining scraps of the Autobots

of course there's always the off chance that this is a trick, since bots like Makeshift exist, but I feel like he'd be able to figure it out pretty quickly. After all, I don't think it'd be out of the question for Ultra Magnus to have met and interacted with Trion before his disappearance at least a handful of times, which should make verifying his identity simple enough

As for Wheeljack... admittedly he's not super hyped. It's not like he's upset Trion's alive and with them, but he's not super excited since he's not a warrior and given the fact he's a super old archivist he's probably some cranky mech with a stick up his ass like how he viewed Magnus. Essentially like how Wheeljack first treated Optimus, but without the initial respect for him as a fellow warrior

But then :) The Autobots and the kids :)))

they already knew something was wrong the moment Alpha Trion stepped off of Magnus's ship. Smokescreen had hardly been apart from the mech for more than an hour or two since they arrived, and they highly doubted he'd leave him alone right now when tensions were so high. Had they been separated? Attacked???

At least in canon, they had had the fraction of hope that was not knowing. Of the fact that just maybe Smokescreen was deep underground and hiding out of reach from the sensors, and that as unlikely as it was it was still possible

but this time? This time they have Alpha Trion telling them that he saw Smokescreen jump back through the Groundbridge with his own eyes

Sure they can hope Smokescreen and Optimus are just far beneath the ground, but they all know deep down the chances of that are slim to none

…….at least, until they pop back up during Darkmount :3

Their reactions are very similar to those of canon in all honesty. A lot of disbelief and a good ol adrenaline rush to take the whole tower. Alpha Trion is especially ecstatic because not one but BOTH of his students are alive and well! Though he also has to deal with trying to figure out how to deal with Smokescreen's little stunt since what he did was reckless and a bit suicidal but it saved Optimus's life but he ignored his duties as a guard BUT Trion has been trying to get Smokescreen to act more independently since they got here B U T -

yeah he's got a lot going on, but bottom line is he's absolutely overjoyed to see Smokescreen again, and I think that just maybe, they get to hug :> as a treat :>>>

now the big one. The Matrix

I'll be honest? I don't think Smokescreen would tell Alpha Trion, at least not at first. I haven't fully hammered out all the details as to how it happens (because believe me, it definitely will) but this line of thinking also got me wondering about something else

about how for the first time since essentially the start of his entire existence Alpha Trion isn't going to know what happens next

sure he might know the broad stokes. The final stand on Earth, the Doom Prophecy, Unicron, the destruction of the Omega Lock, and the Autobot's eventual victory, so on so forth....

but one massive blind spot is Smokescreen

Smokescreen, who somehow managed to keep Alpha Trion alive even when he was supposed to die, defying prefortold FATE. Trion knew he was going to die, and he accepted that, and yet here comes Smokescreen, barreling in and changing something with no understanding of what he's done and the gravity of what that means

who's to say it wouldn't happen again? Hell, just the fact Trion is on EARTH is already changing so much and it brings into question just how much he can trust his knowledge

for possibly the first time in his life, Alpha Trion is just as in the dark about the future as everyone else and he can't do anything about it

#guard duty #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp alpha trion #alpha trion #tfp ultra magnus #ultra magnus #tfp wheeljack #wheeljack #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #autobots #kd answers #anon

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year ago

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Two (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but can you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Series genre: a LOT of tasty angst, tasty smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+ / NSFW / MDNI. Minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. Posting schedule and series masterlist are here.

Author’s note: Thank you SO much for the response to Chapter One! And if you're still with it, I hope you enjoy chapter 2! It has been a LOOONNNNGGG time coming! 😆 This one is slightly shorter, with a bit of exposition to bridge between the OG instalment and the meat of our newly embarked upon continuation! The next chapters are where things really kick-off, but I do hope you enjoy this stoking of some tension, and, of course, finally seeing Santiago again - for the first time since the jarring conclusion to chapter one!!!!!!

Word count: 4.8k for this part

“It’s okay,” Frankie rumbles, looking at you levelly. “You can ask me about him.”

You sigh, squirming in place - on the rear porch steps of your sister’s home - as your game is finally unmasked. Your pretense dashed.

The hubbub of the lazy, Sunday BBQ is nothing but background to you now as Frankie zones in on your true wants, rendering you as an observer - rather than a participant - in the annual gathering you usually draw an abundance of joy from.

Not so today, despite your best efforts at going through the motions. At pretending like everything is fine.

Up to now, chatting idly with your bud in this safe little bubble, you’ve cycled through a gazillion conversation starters; each to emphasise just how interested you are in Frankie, and Whatever He Has Going On. Clearly though, you have failed to convince. Your friend simply knows you too well. Knows your weaknesses.

Your one true weakness. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

You look at kind-eyed Frankie apologetically from beneath your lashes, sorry that your flimsy chat has failed to mask your disinterest in... um, whatever it was he was saying.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cat.” Then, so help you, you ask the question you’ve actually been burning to ask all day. “How’s he doing, Frankie? Really?”

Confirming the shift in tone, Frankie sets his plate of food aside and nestles his bottle of beer on the corner of the lowest porch step. Now you’re having a conversation. The pilot tents his fingers together in his lap, giving your question the full merit it deserves. “Pope?”

Who else?

“He’s… fine,” Frankie nods, studying your face as he says the words. Noticing -no doubt- the way you chew on your lip as your gaze wanders, fixing on the man in question. As you watch him mingle comfortably, effortlessly, amongst the throng of people on the lawn. Making connections, as per usual.

Your stomach drops. An unease jostles in the pit of you. The niggle of regret.

You shouldn’t have invited the guys here today. Shouldn’t have agreed to have them be present at your family gathering. Shouldn’t have agreed to follow-up it up with a squad weekend at the beach house - no matter that it’s tradition. But, then again, who were you to disrupt the usual way of things? And, more so, who were you to pretend that you didn’t want to see him again? After all this time?

In truth, you had wanted nothing else but to see him again. That is, until you had laid eyes on him, and then, very quickly, you had pivoted. Wanted nothing more than to keep your distance.

Why?

Because by all accounts it’s true.

Santiago is fine.

Santiago certainly looks fine. He looks fine in all senses of the fucking word. He looks as though he’s thriving, in fact.

Your face falls at the implication: that he’s thriving without you.

With effort, you hum, schooling your expression into something neutral; however, Frankie’s already on to you. “Is that what you wanted to hear, chiquita?”

You turn your head towards your friend and exhale a small, pitiful laugh. Pondering Frankie’s question, you set your own plate and beer down too – a signal that shit’s getting real.

Is it?

Is that what you wanted to hear?

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, Cat.” With a dejected sigh, you lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder, hooking your arm into the crook of his elbow. “Does that make me cruel? If I don’t wanna hear that he’s happy?”

Your buddy doesn’t answer rightaway, but he does rest a reassuring hand on your thigh in response, his plush bottom-lip protruding as he pouts – apparently mulling over whether or not to throw you a bone. “Okay. Look,” he begins - always a soft-touch for you - and you instantly perk-up just a little. “He had a rough spell when you left and-” Frankie huffs out air, shaking his head as though he might have gone too far in divulging already “-fuck, actually, you don’t wanna know.”

You head snaps up from Frankie’s shoulder as it begins to shake with mirth, your curiosity piqued.

“What?” you probe, as Frankie turns his head to look at you, a smile cracking his sharp features. Apparently, Frankie has a small part of him which is cruel too. “We stumbled upon his heartbreak playlist. And it was not pretty.”

“Come on now,” you protest, a little too defensively, your mouth suddenly dry. “I hardly broke the fucker’s heart.”

Frankie pumps his eyebrows. Shrugs his shoulders. Then, his bark-brown eyes mist over, just a little. “More likely than you think, chiquita.”

With that, your eyes flick right back to Santiago’s figure on the other side of the yard, as if trying to reconcile Frankie’s assertion with the reality you see before you. After all, Santiago “Pope” Garcia looks fine. In all senses of the word.

Right this second, for example, he’s engaged in a highly tactical water fight with your kid nephews. About to enter the killbox any moment, you wager, given that 5 and 7-year-olds don’t seem bound by those pesky rules of engagement. His cargo shorts are – naturally - far too tight, and he’s wearing his crisp blue shirt as though he forgot what buttons did half-way through getting dressed, the fabric split in a deep, plunging “V” across his tan chest.

Despite all that, however, the thing which captures your attention most, is the beaming, wide-open grin he has painted on his face.

He looks...

...Happy.

Genuinely happy. The bastard.

This is the first time he’s seen you since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago. The first chance he’s had to make things right - and he hasn’t spoken a word to you all day. Despite being in your family’s yard. Eating your sister’s food. Playing with your goddamn nephews. You broke his heart, apparently. So Frankie tells you. And yet this fucker dares to looks happy.

So… Is that what you wanted?

For him to be happy?

Without you?

Or… is a small part of you cruel?

You’re not sure about the answer to that question, but you do know that your eyes turn mildly devilish as they flick back towards your buddy, your voice hushed and downright conspiratorial. All of a sudden, you’re not concerned with being the bigger person.

You decide you’ll willingly catch that bone Frankie is throwing. “Tell me more about this playlist, Francisco.”

You need this, you justify internally. You need something. Some sign that Santiago is hurting too.

You’ve needed this for months, in fact; but, goddamn - you especially need this before you and the squad spends a whole weekend together up at the beach house.

You need it badly.

Why?

Because you’re not fine.

Not fine at all.

Not fine without him.

This is your family's yard, and it’s your family’s party, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him since he stormed out of your apartment all those months ago… and you’re emphatically not happy about it. Have found that, despite what you had hoped for, your reunion hasn’t solved a damn thing. Hasn’t eased the knot in your chest. Hasn’t allowed you to feel any sense of resolution.

“Fuck.” Your eyes brim over with the realisation, wet and glassy, and a tight lump balls in your throat.

“Come on,” Frankie mutters - softly but urgently - as your eyes begin to swim with emotion. He nods up towards the interior of the house, and you are endlessly grateful when, with minimal spectacle, your buddy bundles you inside, his arm slung casually around your shoulder for comfort.

You’re not the retreating type. At all. You have always been comfortable running headlong into things that scare you. Even so, it is a marked relief when you do slink inside. A relief that you were able to save face. Keep your pain hidden. But, most of all, it is a relief that you no longer need to suffer Santiago’s abject joy.

It is a relief in the same way it is to retreat from the blazing sun, and you immediately find sanctuary in the cool, shaded interior of the house.

Still, given the tumult of emotions inspired by his general proximity today, you are less and less sure that you can handle this trip.

The only thing pushing you to go through with it, in fact, is the knowledge that there’s one thing harder than being close to Santiago… and that’s being apart from him.

Perhaps Frankie’s wrong. Perhaps you didn’t break Santiago’s heart when you left. But, one thing’s for sure. Leaving him had certainly broken yours.

Truth be told, even after all this time, you’ve barely begun to put yourself back together.

You’re in pieces; which - to be fair - is always how Santiago liked to see you, isn’t it?

A friend. A soldier. A lover.

That’s the only way you can stand to view him now. In mere fragments. In the shrapnel of stolen glances; because trying to see him all at once? That’s like trying to stare directly at the sun.

He is too bright for you and it burns. Even with all this distance.

***

You’re surrounded by laughter and chatter, yet you feel an unease. An unrest in the pit of you.

Will’s ballcap is tugged down over your eyes under the guise of staying warm - a flimsy excuse, considering the raging fire pit in the centre of you all, acting as the warm sun to your orbits of beer, passed amiably around from hand to hand via the cooler at Will’s side.

Naturally, the conversation has veered sharply towards the crude - it reliably does when you are and the boys are all together.

“For real, Pope. Since we’re, uh, sharing,” Tom interjects, already looking far too pleased with himself. “Do you ever play up the knee thing to… encourage women to go on top?” Tom’s question earns shocked titters from Will and Frankie and, despite yourself, a softly exhaled laugh from you.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Santiago asks Tom with an assured grin, and, upon being subject to the group’s attention, he leans forward in his camp chair. He drains the dregs of his beer and tosses the emptied bottle into the gathering pile in the sand, the label already peeled off by his nimble fingers.

Tom presses him for an answer, and you see Santiago’s pearly flash of teeth glinting in the firelight. “Play it up, buddy?” Santiago emits a deep, throaty chuckle which bobs in his corded neck. The sound is echoed by the other boys too, the threshold for laughter pleasantly lowered by the alcohol.

Their movements are growing increasingly pack-like - a little less measured and a little more instinctual. Less individual and more unified. Moving as a team even as they sit still, with their spread legs and dropped shoulders and dipped chins. Alert eyes glinting in the dark with each lick of flame. Their energy would intimidate you, you think, if you didn’t know them. If you didn’t feel safer here than anywhere else in the world.

Still wearing that grin, Santiago scoops his hand over his stubble, his finger and thumb tracing around his mouth. “It’s practically a pick-up strategy.” His voice is warm sand and it scrapes you. Leaves a mark.

Frankie titters off to Santiago’s side - a chaotic, beer-addled laugh. To his other side, Will grins too, his laughter striking a robust and deep note, even whilst shaking his head as though he’s somehow above it all. Together, their sounds form a cacophony you can feel deep in your chest - like the rumble of bass from a speaker, or the subdued roar of the ocean.

If they are a pack, you - for once - are at odds. You feel it now more than ever, and it jars you. You are hyper-conscious that no display of mirth falls from you; and, in fact, the corners of your mouth turn down.

Instead, you dwell on this roar - this rumble and hum under your skin. If you feel like the tide, like you are being swept up, Santiago is your shore. Everything about him draws you in, and you feel you could wash him away with the force of your need for him.

Regardless of that, you continue to do precisely what you’ve been doing all night. You try to bury everything. To subdue your feelings. To calm this frenzy deep in the pit of you. In this moment, thinking about Santiago pursuing people other than you - listening to the damn stories - you take that urge quite literally, digging your bare toes deeply and intently into the sand as though you could disappear wholly into it.

But; even that reminds you.

Everything reminds you.

Santiago.

You’ve thought of nothing else all night.

How could you?

And, you feel the lack of him.

The roughness of the sand against your smooth skin is a poor substitute for the rasp of his stubble. For the grit of his voice against your throat. The warmth of the curling, licking flame is a poor substitute for his body heat. His curling tongue. His fingers. The way you bury your feelings has nothing on how he buried himself in you.

You fall into memories, tacky and hot, tumbling, and yet Will’s voice rips you abruptly back to the present.

“How in the hell do you spin that one, man?” he asks Santiago with a genuine curiosity, his ice blue eyes dancing with amusement.

Santiago risks a sheepish glance at you then, as though sensitive that his prowess with women might offend you in some way; but your eyes simply glance off of his like a flung spark from the fire pit, desperate to turn towards the dark and rid yourself of any heat which he may ignite. Desperate not to linger on the way the shadows and the light pool across the harsh planes of his face. The way his dark eyes are flickering and alive, and entirely capable of burning.

And so, Santiago continues, relishing his moment. “Come on. It’s easy,” he breezes. He clears his throat, fully readying to inhabit his role. He shuffles in his chair and changes his demeanour, his body language, his voice. Shifting and contorting himself until he is layered with seduction. His frame even grows bigger, bolder, his legs spread. Chin raised and eyes hooded with a slow, sultry blink of those long lashes.

Even this performance of heat hurts you; burns. Burns brightly enough that you have to look away from him before your skin is singed by it. “Hermosa,” he rasps, voice pleasantly scuffed by beer and smoke, the sound so rough and gritty you swear you can feel it scrape your skin. Your core clenches around the full, deep, dark tones of him, as though they alone could fill you.

The fire throws out careless sparks like cracked whips, and, like them, you cling to a dying heat. This vestige of the way he spoke to you in the dead, dark night at one time, your bodies all salt-slick skin. “You’re right,” he purrs, and you see that his body has shifted - angled towards Tom.

You feel embarrassed. You feel alight, as though somehow, they could all find you out in this moment. Could sense the wet slick pooling between your legs. Smell it somehow. Like all of a sudden their eyes will converge on you and they will know - hear the flutter of your pulse in your throat. Sense the throb building in your core. Feel you barrelling from dull ache to desperation.

“About what?” Tom asks, playing along as Santiago sneaks a hand up his thigh.

Santiago’s smile is lopsided. Charming, but full of challenge. “Thinking that I’m a bad idea.” He’s hamming it up, for sure, but the syrup and grit in his voice is taking you right back there all the same. Right back to between those sheets, and a disobedient heat snakes down your back.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well,” Santiago offers with faux regret, voice husky, and you can’t help but lift your eyes back to him. Can’t possibly look anywhere else now. Can’t help but observe the smirk twitching his appealing mouth and the way his thick brow arcs up. “‘Cause my knees are shot from years in the military, so I’m afraid you’ll have to get on top and ride me senseless.”

God in heaven.

Looking at him was a mistake, even like this. Even as he feigns seducing Tom, of all people. There’s just something about the rough edge layered into his voice right now. Something about the firelight painting his sharply-angled face with shadow. The flickers causing his smouldering eyes to glint with an echo of that formidable, latent heat.

You feel this vestige of warmth in you ignite. Feel it begin to blaze and catch. You feel memories of him, his skin, his touch, amassing grain by grain. Ever so suddenly you are the shore now. Parched. A hot, baking expanse seeking its relieving tide.

God, you want him.

You feel your core shiver around the memory of him slipped into you, deep and dirty, teeth on your throat, and it’s almost too much to take.

You need him, even though you’re still so damn angry with him.

Or… no. No, that’s not it. Yes - you want him because of it.

You need to fuck the residual anger from beneath your skin, for it has festered there for months now. Months, and you need it to move. Need it to give. Need it slaked and sated and gone.

It’s not a healthy desire, you think, and you feel a little shame at that. You are grateful then - as Santiago effortlessly drags you back into the inescapable pit of him - that the boys’ laughter tears you abruptly from this impossible yearning. Gives you a lifeline. Reminds you where you are. How far you’ve come.

You got out. And that meant leaving him behind too, didn’t it?

“You’re such a fucking dog, man,” Will snickers.

The chair over, Frankie’s shoulders are shaking with laughter too, his head tipped up to the sky and his eyes disappeared with it. You wish that you could laugh like that. That you could feel light, but instead you feel heavy and sick.

“That works?” Tom asks incredulously, and you take another hasty swig of your beer, the froth hissing against your lips and a hoppy taste flooding your tongue. You briefly wish it was something stronger.

“Don’t go getting ideas, Tom,” Santiago says smugly, slapping his buddy emphatically on the thigh. “Works when I do it.”

Oh, you bet it does. You bet it works.

Tom throws Santiago a stink-eye then, before sitting slightly taller in his chair, his face contorting in a clear attempt to smoulder. “My knees are shot from years in the military...” Tom echoes, trying to inject a similar level of grit into his voice... and, the contrast? The failure? It is… an instant relief.

Tom’s attempt is laughable, in fact. And so, when your favourite pilot’s dense, throaty chuckle sounds out to your side once more – this time, you can’t help but crack a smile too. Indeed, the laughter which spills out of you is a welcome vent, and so you reach for it wholeheartedly.

There is an eruption of good-natured, teasing banter from the boys now - and Tom looks miffed that his attempt to tease Santiago has almost entirely backfired. Then, grasping for this welcome escape route a tad too eagerly, perhaps, you submit your own dig. “You might wanna run that script again. Give us a little less of that insurance infomercial vibe next time, buddy.”

Frankie can barely breathe from laughing now, his hand coming to clutch his belly, and it’s pleasantly infectious. The atmosphere is safe and cocooning and familiar, and for the first time tonight you almost forget. You almost forget the thing that you haven’t been able to forget for months. That Santi isn’t touching you, and that, God; you need him to.

But then, your relief is snatched from you all too suddenly. “Well sure,” Tom aims, his shot primed to land. “You would know how it goes, right? First hand? Did Pope use that line on you too, right before he and that guy from the bar practically double-dipped you?”

The group fucking brace.

You can feel it.

It’s the exact same energy as when you’ve all grabbed for purchase in the helo or the humvee, right before a collision. The world seeming to flow in slow motion, your stomach being tossed up in the air and rolling as you lurch and sink.

Most of the time, sure. You pride yourself for being able to take the boys’ banter on the chin. For having a thick skin. For being able to muster a scathing comeback, rolling off your tongue without a thought.

But this? This has you beat for a second. This has a sinkhole opening up in your middle.

You meet Will’s eyes for a split second in desperation, but he looks at you helplessly, and you know. You know you need to say something. You know you need to, before they witness -before he witnesses- you falling apart. Before you let your silence reveal that you’re not over Santiago. That this hang isn’t ‘just like old times’. Not like ‘before’. That maybe, it can never be how it was again.

Finally, something comes to you, and you grab for it; once again, a little too eagerly. “At least I got some, Tom. I doubt you could even seal the deal these days.” You push the words out and hope they sound light, even as you feel a tremor in your body. In your throat. Even as you feel Santiago’s eyes on you without looking. Can imagine them, dark and knowing, and worst of all… apologetic. Maybe even pitying. “Oh hey! Just like your ‘career’ in real estate!”

“Ohhhhh shiiittt,” is the prevailing sentiment from the group, hands flung up into the air as Tom realises he’s just been owned by your spectacular throwdown.

Good, you think. Good. You’re glad the asshole’s getting his comeuppance but, even so, your petty victory does little to fill the hole in your chest, your heart still hammering and your fingers still trembling subtly against the cool, wet neck of your beer.

To your surprise though, Tom doesn’t even bite back. Not this time, and that makes you feel even more annoyed, somehow. It makes you feel as though your anger is misdirected. As though Tom’s not the asshole here. As though he’s not the dude you’re fuming at after all.

Still, your comment served its purpose well enough, you think, as steady, safe banter erupts again. You are pleased that you avoided the full impact of this collision, brakes slammed on as you still teeter on the cliff edge; but your heart feels bruised and rattled in the roll cage of your chest all the same.

Mainly though, you are pleased that you are no longer the focus of everyone’s attention. However, your skin warms when you notice one man’s eyes remain on you, his gaze fixated and hooded and intense, and a shiver of heat dips down each notch of your spine.

You look away. You tug Will’s cap a little further down over your eyes and you wait. You wait for the topic to shift so that you can excuse yourself without the cause being quite so obvious. You wait, until you can’t take the heat from this fire a second longer. Then, and only then, you make your excuses and dip out, retreating into the empty, quiet shell of the house.

You pad into the kitchen, the cool interior immediately relieving against your hot skin, gooseflesh snaking down your arms and making your hairs stand on end. The dim light is certainly a respite from the searing brightness of the fire and the sting of the smoke in your eyes. But most of all, of course, it is relief from him.

Santiago.

It’s rough. Rougher than you expected. You simply can’t take this distance from him. You’d thought, before, that the miles between you - between here and Colombia - had been hard to reckon with. But this distance? The vanishingly small distance where he’s right here yet has never felt further out of your reach? That’s a thousand times harder. This petty distance – this rupture, this wound – hurts far more, because it feels far harder to heal. Far more festering than a clean break, and seeing him has already torn out every self-applied suture.

You don’t like that things seem to have been irrevocably changed. You don’t like that your two bodies - which used to be so in sync - are now so awkward around one another. Purposefully aloof, rather than tactile. Remaining so separate, rather than together.

It has been slowly amassing all day, the weight of this pain. Of this lack. And now, after feeling the absence of his touch so intensely - of that blessed togetherness- ironically, you finally need a moment alone.

You cross the room and fold yourself over the kitchen counter, hinging at the hips. You rest your head in your hands, laying your forearms flat along the cool, marbled surface.

For a brief moment, it is even a relief. You breathe deeply. Put him out of your head. But, after only one moment more you find yourself missing the pain. You’ve become fond of it, in a way. You haven’t been able to let go because, in truth, you’ve wanted to feel the continued burn of this loss - like a scar.

It is the only proof you have left that he touched you at all.

That you came close to having something with him. Within touching distance of it.

But now…

You sigh deeply. You hate this torment. You hate not knowing how to be around him. The way the familiar is recast as unfamiliar. Your certainty now uncertainty. Your home now a hotel.

You’ve spent the whole day so far keeping your distance. Talking only to the group, always some buffer of Tom or Will or Frankie in between you. Always leaving one seat between your bodies. Avoiding prolonged eye contact. Going out of your way to make sure the two of you were never left alone.

Being left alone with him is the last thing you want; and the first, of course.

And, as if on cue, a low whistle sounds from behind you. You know the sound without looking, and your body stiffens. “An ocean view and now this?” Santiago jokes cautiously as he approaches behind you, clearly faced with a perfect view of your ass as you fold over the counter. “Pretty sweet deal. You should get Tom in on this real estate action. He might actually sell something.”

Despite everything, all of it, you can’t help but laugh at that. You appreciate the dig at Tom a hell of a lot more than you should, actually.

“Listen. Are you… alright?” Santiago asks next, much more softly. You hate the way his voice prickles the hairs on the back of your neck; but also, you don’t hate it at all, of course.

You inhale and stand, pushing your torso up from the counter. You look up to the top of the cabinets, not blinking until the would-be tears have dried, and only then do you turn towards him.

Santiago.

Only then do you face your sun, praying that you will not be singed.

All day, you have had a buffer in between the two of you. Clouds, to dim his brightness. But now, it is just you and him, alone in the kitchen of the beach house.

This bland domesticity sure is a far cry from the field, yes. From your original shared domain. But, it also serves as an all too painful reminder of the last time you saw him. Of the last time his lips moved against yours. Of the last time, in that kitchen, that he’d had you. Taken you, bunched up naked against the fridge as he filled your slick heat with his fingers. As he kissed you and tongued you and claimed you back, as if he ever intended to keep you.

It is a reminder of the time he had told you he loved you, and with finality, you had both realised that it still might not be enough.

You turn towards him, finally, and you brace.

Brace like you’re about to collide.

Like there will be an impact when your eyes meet.

Your brace like you’re expecting hot tempers, hot feelings, hot words. Wounds splitting and salt being rubbed in.

Still, that’s not at all what you get.

Instead, Santiago’s eyes are as wet as your own. All of his boldness and bluster is gone, and he’s standing on the very perimeter of the room as though he is the one who dares to venture no further. As though you might burn him if he gets too close.

“I missed you,” he rasps, and despite the softness and the sincerity of the words, they feel like a rough struck match against your skin.

You try desperately. Try desperately to fling this offered spark away before it catches, but it is futile.

He missed you, and his admission already has you blazing for him.

He’s standing mere feet from you.

And, despite everything, all you can think about is closing this oh so petty distance.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series #santiago pope garcia

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whiskawaybelf · 30 days ago

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It only took me two months to get this together but I'm stoked to talk about Pacifica Elise Northwest again.

(Please note, as we're discussing the bell, I do talk about physical and emotional abuse, the former quite briefly.)

Previous posts: Entitlement and Expectations. Pacifica is fucking angry all the time.

Okay.

Let's conquer The Bell ™

Now. Word of God says the bell is a warning that credit cards will be cancelled and that she gets grounded and that's all nice and good. I disagree and I think a lot of us read a lot more into it, but I'm going to first address the things that don't contradict this and still have a massive impact on what the bell means outside of punishments.

This is a youtube video discussing 'Still face' and a lack of parental interaction and feedback. And let's be clear, surely Pacifica had a nanny/ child wrangler of some kind because Preston and Priscilla will not even consider dirty diapers, let alone change one. There's the family portrait in Northwest Manor Mystery that shows a pink, silly, smiling Pacifica. So she got some interaction and nurturing as a child from a member of staff who was presumably dismissed eventually.

And even as a child her parents were emotionally distant, Pacifica was a thing they owned, another mark of their affluence and position in society. A well behaved, pretty, obedient, impressive daughter.

So even if we believe there was no emotional abuse or physical abuse (I'm very iffy on physical though I know people can and will headcanon whatever resonates for them) just the fact that her parents will withdraw what little attention and affection she's getting at the first sign of her exercising autonomy, getting dirty, acting incorrectly, disobeying, that's already enough. Pacifica is incredibly isolated, she doesn't have real friends. All the people she is connected to remain connected on the condition of her good behavior or her being rich or mean enough to keep them around.

Not to mention, we know that she gets sent to her room if she disobeys, presumably for a long enough time to be a deterrent so misbehavior also results in literal isolation. Not great for any kid but particularly not one who is already under-socialized (As in, she is very much shoved into society and she's the most popular girl in Gravity Falls, but like, is she?)

So, let's say that's all it is. Her emotionally negligent and unavailable parents withdraw what little they give her. Maybe they're cold or ignore her. That's enough. That's enough to keep her on track.

But then there's the need to win, the drive, the sense that there are very real consequences to not being the best. Her parents forget to pick her up, they don't care about her competitions, only that she wins, they've built her insecurity about her looks to the point that she, at twelve, is desperate to avoid any sort of physical imperfection and prides herself on her appearance. You're telling me her mother never told her, "You look washed out when you forget blush," "Oh, Pacifica, a pimple? Disgusting." "Did you even bother to brush your hair?" "If you can't dress correctly, you'll stay home. I won't be seen at a party with you like that."

"Only a B, Pacifica? What's next, you go to public school?", "Second place is embarrassing, Pacifica, everyone at that game couldn't look at you without laughing." Yawning and interrupting her stories. Pretending they can't see her cry. Pacifica has only known the things she did wrong and the things she did 'good enough'.

Perfection or nothing.

I'm tentative about physical abuse and don't feel educated enough to speak on it other than to say we see minimal evidence for that. I can definitely understand where people might draw that conclusion or relate to it. I would consider perhaps physical shaming. A slap if she talks for too long, a hard grip dragging her to her room when she was reluctant. A pinch to stand up straight. I'm not sure those interact with the bell specifically but that's only my reading of it.

The bell is a warning, a reminder that they can and will remove her from a situation if she makes herself difficult or they will pull away and truly let her know she is below attention. For the Northwests the line from fine to difficult is a millimeter. Pacifica is always on edge and very alert. Looking at her family for cues, only her discovery of real connection with Mabel and Dipper start to draw her out of this obedience. She realizes she doesn't need to rely on her parents to fulfill her emotional needs and there are people out there that don't need her to be perfect to find her worthwhile. She can overcome some of her isolation by relying on people outside her cold social circle and circumstances. If her parents can't control her by denying her personhood and agency, then their power is significantly diminished.

A much shorter analysis for this one, I'll maybe make a poll for the next one, but if you have any ideas, opinions or asks send them my way :)

#pacifica northwest #gravity falls pacifica #pacifica meta #gravity falls meta #gravity falls analysis #pacifica #pacifica gravity falls

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rollinouttahere-writes · 8 months ago

Note

who was rosys favourite client and what was her relationships with the diffrent father candidates?

Rosy's favorite client was Doflamingo, at least prior to how insanely possessive he got after he found out about the pregnancy.

They only met by chance when Rosy was invited to a very high class gala full of very important and powerful people. She was there along with some of her top requested employees to stoke the egos of the people there by having gorgeous women lavish them with attention and ideally do business with them.

Doflamingo was there as well, but he never cared enough to interact with any of the women. He's aware that their services come with a price, and he doesn't see why he should pay for such a thing when he regularly gets it for free given his power and influence.

Rosy overhears some of her ladies complaining about being dismissed by him, and she immediately takes it as a challenge. She has men begging for her constantly, so there's a certain level of appeal to having to work for it. She saunters up to the warlord and very confidently seats herself in his lap while asking if her girls aren't up to his standards. They enter into a witty back and forth that goes on for basically the whole night. He still doesn't buy her services by the time they part ways, but Rosy can tell that she made an impression on him.

They run into each other again not long after that (read: Doflamingo had been keeping tabs on her and made sure that this would happen). Doflamingo asks if she wants to come back to his ship and have some drinks with him. Just drinks. Rosy agrees, not at all believing that that is all that he wants. They go back to the ship, and sure enough, he doesn't make a move. They just sip wine and talk for hours. Doflamingo loves to pick people's brains, and Rosy is just enjoying the fact that someone actually wants to talk to her like a person for once. It's refreshing.

The next time that they meet, it is actually to do business. Doflamingo pays handsomely for her services, but he still takes the opportunity to talk with her more and spend time with her outside of the bedroom. They develop a very tight knit relationship. Doflamingo is toxic as hell, but Rosy is hardly a saint herself, so she feels like she can be more authentic to her true self around him. He isn't disgusted by her more cold and calculating tendencies, and he even goes so far as to encourage her cutthroat ways. He is the only client that ever saw the brand on her back. He offered to pay for a cosmetic surgery to remove it and see to it that none of the people involved would ever breathe a word of it because he would kill them, but Rosy declined. She could very well do all of that herself, but she doesn't think that it would be fair for her to get her brand removed while her sisters all have theirs.

Most of her other clients were people that she had very strictly business-only relationships with. Katakuri was one of the only ones that she was somewhat close to besides Doflamingo. They never got as close due to him being oddly shy towards her despite what they would do together, but he always insisted that she spend the night with him even after they were done and would shower her in gifts and the absolute best pastries he could get his hands on. Rosy found him to be cute, though she didn't really know how to handle someone being so genuinely kind to her outside of her own family. She took more comfort in Doflamingo's presence over his because Doflamingo's toxicity and risk factor felt more familiar to her, even if it was to her detriment.

The other candidates largely boil down to clients that she saw a handful of times, or people that she gave her services to in exchange for a favor.

#sanji's lullaby #donquixote doflamingo #charlotte katakuri

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eventinelysplayground · 8 months ago

Text

Trading Spaces.

Kinktober Day 5: Pussy/Cock Drunk|Double Penetration.

Pairing: Chevalier x Female Reader.

Hope you all have been enjoying everybody's fics so far! I know there are several I've read that I love and plan to reblog in the future. This fic was fun but also a pain to write as I kept starting it then deleting everything because I didn't like the idea behind it. I got this idea very late one night/early one morning and I ran with it. I hope I fulfilled the prompt well enough and that you all enjoy. You and Chevalier finally get to be intimate for the first time in weeks and your thoughts are consumed by him. This fic is NSFW so minors do not interact. WC approx 1200.

It had been almost two months since you were last in Chevalier's arms. It had started out as just your regular monthly break but in the middle of it reports were received that there was suspicious movement at the border so he left to deal with it, then a winter storm had blocked the roads delaying him from returning home as planned and when he did return he found you ill with a nasty cold caused by the same storm.

Now that you were finally deemed recovered enough by both the palace physicians and Chevalier himself you had been looking forward to tonight. Dinner seemed to last forever and was it just you or were the hallways longer now? Chevalier of course was as composed as ever and you started to feel embarrassed by how needy you were, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. You heard Chevalier chuckle softly beside you, he was most definitely reading your mind again and that thought only made you blush more. He reached out grabbing your wrist and led you to the next door he saw.

“What are we doing here?”

Chevalier did not reply; he simply opened the door and ushered you in before shutting and locking it behind you.

“Chevalier, why are we in Jin's room?”

“I will not let anyone else see that expression on your face, number one's room just happened to be the closest to us.”

His arms slid around your waist at the same time his lips landed on your neck. He kissed his way up to your ear and nipped at it and your knees buckled as you let out a shaky breath.

Chevalier's skilled fingers made quick work of your clothes, tossing them haphazardly on the floor as his mouth explored your newly exposed skin. You tried to keep up with him but you were quickly losing the ability to think straight and you'd only managed to just get his shirt undone when he was lifting you in his arms and carrying you to the bed.He laid you down on the cool silk sheets then began undoing his belt. You went to push yourself up onto your hands but found them slipping under you and you found yourself questioning Jin's wisdom in using these sheets given his…hobby.

“I have a few theories but I am sure number one would tell you his reasoning if you asked him.”

Chevalier's tone was even but there was a smirk on his face as he joined you on the bed.

“No, I’m okay with not knowing.”

You reached up and wrapped your arms around Chevalier's neck and your lips met his in a passionate yet faintly clumsy kiss. He nipped at your lips and you parted them letting his tongue make its way inside. As your tongues teased each other one his hands began to make its way along the curves of your body spreading heat in its wake.

You loved the way he ran his hands along your body letting them explore your sensitive spots as they stoked your desire for him. Your lips parted but you whined and pulled him back to you not quite ready to let them go yet. He responded by kissing you harder, claiming every inch of your mouth as his and you moaned.

When he pulled away again you let him go and soon his mouth was traveling a path downwards biting and licking as they went. Every time he bit your skin it was like a spark and you found yourself moaning and writhing beneath him. You normally loved the way he teased you but right now all you wanted was his heat inside you and each time he touched you somewhere other than your throbbing core you growled internally. Finally his mouth had reached one of your nipples and you arched under him letting out a soft cry as he sucked on it. He continued to tease you making sure his hands and lips stayed just above where you craved them and your frustration and desperation to feel his cock inside you grew with each caress.

“Chevalier!”

Your voice was desperate and angry as he kissed around your aching bud. He looked up at you and smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted and you knew he wanted you to say it. Normally you'd be embarrassed but right now you didn't care, him thrusting his cock inside you and filling you up was all you cared or thought about.

“Don't make me wait any longer, I want you inside me so bad it hurts.”

Chevalier looked momentarily surprised by your declaration and he didn't respond. Truthfully it had begun to feel like it was hurting. The amount of sensation you were getting everywhere but there was just making the throbbing worse and you were soaking wet.

You watched as he sat up studying you briefly before a devilish smile crept across his face. He grabbed onto your legs and pulled you towards him, your body easily and quickly sliding along the silk sheets. He grasped your hands and pulled you into his lap and kissed you as he slid himself easily into your core. This is what you had craved, being enveloped in his arms, his scent of roses swirling around you. The feeling of his long hard cock filling every inch of you and the way it hit not only the deepest parts of you but the way it felt on your clit as you slid up and down him. Chevalier's arms held you tight as you exchanged kisses, each one seeming to make you ride him faster.

Your head was pounding and you couldn't think about anything other than the pleasure. He pulled you closer to him leaving no space between the two of you and he kissed you roughly. The kiss lasted until you were almost out of breath and you painted when you drew away. One of his hands grabbed your breast and you cried out as he nipped at your neck just as your peak hit. Chevalier let out a sigh as you slowed down, at least that's what you thought.

You had been consumed by your pleasure and didn't hear the door unlocking, or opening, or it hastily being shut but Chevalier did. It's why he had pulled you flush against him kissing you and why he sighed because he knew he was in for a ridiculous conversation tomorrow.

After the door quickly shut Jin relocked it with a smirk on his face.

“Jin? I thought we were going to continue things in your room.”

The woman looked up at Jin with lust filled eyes as she tugged on his waistcoat.

“Ya just I forgot how much of a mess it was, clothes all over the place and my sheets need to be changed.”

The woman was pouting but Jin smoothly slipped an arm around her shoulder and began to lead her down the hallway.

“Don't worry, let me take you to a secret private library very few people ever get to see. It's only got two chairs but there's also a few soft pillows and plush blankets just for this sort of occasion…”

Tag List: @queengiuliettafirstlady, @nightghoul381, @nani-nani-nani. If you want to be added/removed just send me a msg.

Special Tag: @aquagirl1978 because it has her man in it.

#kinktober 2024 #ikemen prince #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri smut #ikepri chevalier #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #chevalier michel

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apompkwrites · 2 years ago

Text

the ashengrotto's friend || azul ashengrotto

masterlist characters: azul (platonic), ocs :D genre: fluff (just a regular lore part) contains: very quick chapter to establish something, azul's dad (mentioned once), oc introduction (can't wait to talk about them more :D) summary: a single spell can lead to a new adventure. notes: oh wow hi again I'm not dead :). um just fell out of writing for a good while but guess who's starting their second college term in like 3 weeks :D wooo. anyway, just a quick chapter so I can introduce someone :)) parts: [og post] | [previous] | [next]

the voice was soft and airy, akin to your brother's when he was first waking up in the morning or your mother's when she wasn't in her work mode (which was very rare at this point). when you looked up, you were greeted with another cecaelia.

their skin was dark, almost pitch black. their tentacles had bright blue tips that seemed to glow in the water. however, as opposed to your tentacles, theirs were connected with thin webbing. their hair was a rusty red color, their curls bobbing in the water and covering their right eye. the one eye you could see was crystal blue, wide and full of curiosity just like your brother. two fins stuck out from their curls, drooping a bit to their sea floor.

"how'd you do that?" they repeated, pointing at the water that swirled in towards the paper.

you couldn't say anything at first. be it because you were afraid of interaction or because you genuinely had no idea what you just did, you weren't sure. but, no matter the cause, your silence seemed to only stoke the flames of the cecaelia's curiosity.

"i've never seen magic like that..." they muttered, drifting down to the seafloor in front of you. they settled down, their tentacles resting on the sand. "what was it?"

"um..." you managed to utter, your hand shakily reaching out to grab your pen. "i-i don't... um..."

"can you do it again?" they asked, seemingly unphased by your stammering. they stared at you, their single blue eye that you could see wide with amazement. "please?"

you could only nod and grab another spare piece of paper. you flipped it over, brushing it off as a simple contract draft your mother had written in her spare time, and began scribbling on the paper again. you made the same sigil, an s surrounded by arrows and a single, large circle.

immediately, the same reaction occurred. a vortex formed, swirling about and dragging the water and seaweed closer to the paper. the cecaelia beamed from fin to fin, clapping their hands excitedly like a child.

"your magic is so cool!" they cheered, their eye seemingly sparkling as they stared at you.

"th...thank you..." you mutter under your breath. the cecaelia smiled softly at you, finally noticing your nervousness.

"i'm hemming." they introduced, holding out their hand. "it's nice to meet you!"

"...(name)." you whispered, slowly and shakily taking their hand in yours. "nice to... meet you, too..."

hemming was nice. and curious. you liked that about them. with your brother slowly drifting away from you in favor of his magical studies and the tweels, hemming somehow filled his place in your heart. they reminded you of azul with their wide-eyed fascination for all things in the world.

hemming's visits motivated you to work harder, as well. it seems both you and azul got your hard-working diligence from your mother. each time hemming swam their way over to you, you would have a new sigil to show them. and, no matter how small and mundane the spell was, hemming rewarded you with amazed cheers and genuine cries of awe.

however, you did wonder where exactly hemming came from. you had seen plenty of merpeople come and go, but you never knew where they went when the time for two to part came.

"hemming." you called to them one day. "where do you live? is it far?"

"mm, a bit..." hemming hummed, their voice trailing off near the end. "...promise you won't freak out?"

"i promise."

hemming paused once more. they were nervous, maybe just as nervous as you were when you first met them. they took a quick glance around as if making sure no one was listening.

they looked back at you.

then took one more glance around.

"...the abyss." hemming whispers. the moment that name leaves their lips, a chill runs down through your tentacles.

your mother had only mentioned the abyss once. it was where your father would move to once the divorce was finalized.

hemming fidgeted under your gaze. and the longer you stared, the more they trembled.

"i'm sorry... i... i'll go--"

"no!" you don't know what compelled you to cry out or to grab their wrist. but you did. and hemming stared back at you with wide eyes. and the next words that fell from your lips shocked you more than they did hemming.

"can i visit?"

hemming swam home that night pleasantly surprised. they had tried to make friends before, but never once did they find one that was willing to go to the abyss. they were certain that the moment the question of where they lived came up, they were bound to lose a friend again.

but not this time.

and so, as they swam home, their thoughts had a single cecaelia floating about. a single, magical cecaelia.

"hemming?" ah, they hadn't realized they were home already.

their brother stood above them, towering over them as he always did. his thin and frail-looking tentacles floated beneath him, dragging across the endless floor of black. their hair fell in front of their face in long strands, framing their frail face.

"what's got your head in the seas today?" his brother asked quietly.

"oh, nothing." hemming grinned. "i just... made a really good friend."

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy @mulandi @sadimon @stormyovent0aster @sn00zl4x @f1fty-f1fty @bloomed-night-flower @madusas-girlfriend @b0nkers-papaya @arandomeroacher @randonamedcl @potabletable @meerpea @luvcalico @chlousp @prettyinblack231 @dindarasuum @elizaboba @ravenlking @reveristmain @lasignoramybeloved @poto-de-michi @sherryuki-callmeyuki @cadit-in-aestus-sidereum @valeriele3 @munchkinkazooie @venusdandy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fluff #twst fluff #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland azul x reader #twst azul #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul ashengrotto #twst azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #black sheep

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tapwater118 · 10 months ago

Text

The Post-Split Rant, part 3

a.k.a.: Grown Woman really should have finished this like 3 weeks ago give me a break

Part 1 | Part 2

yes i did just section the parts out like this just for the visual gag shut up

BFB Post-Split is my least favorite season, so now I’m gonna wrap up my whinging about it and move on with my life. These are my opinions, you’re free to disagree, bluh bluh bluh let’s just get on with it already.

BFB 28

Okay, I said I would talk about the eliminated contestants here, but I remember them doing more in this episode than they actually did for some reason. I guess I’ll get to them in BFB 29 I suppose.

Anyway the Announcer is back! Announcer’s actually my favorite host out of all the seasons (sorry Four), so when I watched this the first time I remember being really stoked to see him again. And I am glad to say they did him very nicely! He still has his slightly snarky demeanor (in spite of his monotone TTS voice), and is overall used in a very interesting way here. I’ll get more into it later, but it is very clear they didn’t just bring him back for nostalgia points, which I appreciate.

For an “all-in-one” challenge, this episode did it a lot better than BFDI 23, dare I say. Instead of spending a bit too long on the first few challenges and speeding by the rest, they spend time just on the challenges that they can get good bits out of and briskly walk past the others. I feel this approach works a lot better than BFDI 23.

Honestly, pretty nice episode. No real issues here. Not as good as BFB 20 or 26 I’d say, but a good deal better than BFB 22. Moving on.

BFB 29

They said it was impossible. They said it couldn’t be done. Post-Split actually has a second good Taco and Blocky interaction. They’re having an actual conversation! With witty banter and such!What is this wizardry? Why couldn’t we have more like this?

Not related to anything else really but I have to get this out. I find the over abundance of nicknames in Post-Split to be kind of grating at times but NOTHING grinds my gears as much as the stupid “blank”-ster nicknames. “Tacster” “Blockster” “Teadster” SHUT UUUUUUUPPPPPP. They’re just fine in isolation but they use them SO FREQUENTLY I HATE IT. Gelatin uses these the most and I honestly think it’s lessened my opinion of him to a non-negligible degree. Leafster is the only one that gets a past the rest suck so much shit.

Ok sub-rant over. Back on topic.

The whole, well not really backstory… interstory(?) they give Announcer here is very neat, I like it. Really adds a lot of depth to his character. Whoa, Post-Split just had compelling character development. I think I need to sit down. I guess I’ll also add here that it’s nice Taco has something to do other than whinge at Blocky. I mean, there’s a handful of other characters just kinda sitting around that they could also have investigating the Announcer, but I feel Taco fits this role the best (out of the characters available to do so).

The quality-downgrading bit near the end is also fun too- okay enough beating around the bush. I’ll talk about it here because I already have enough to say about BFB 30 on its own; they pretty obviously set Flower up to win. Having her be repeatedly ignored and tortured for those sympathy points, and then having her be the one to save the show to cap it all off.

I voted for Flower to win, and even if they didn’t set her up like this I still would have. She’s one of the few characters in all of BFDI that actually has a serious degree of character-growth throughout the series, from being the prototypical “mean for the sake of it” character in season 1 to having genuine compassion for those she cares about by the end of BFB. Gelatin doesn’t have any of this, and if I can be candid, I have no clue how he got so far in the season.

BFB 29 is good overall, but let’s not dwell on it any longer. The real meat and potatoes of this part of the rant is going to deal with the final episode, one I have so many thoughts on I have to split it into multiple segments. Let’s talk about BFB 30.

Smaller Thoughts on BFB 30

The scenes with the fake seasons add a lot to Four’s character, and are a nice lead in to the fact that he’s actually a huge BFDI fan who really just wanted to be in that show he really loves. Judging by his actions in the early days of BFB it’s obvious this was a rather late addition to his character, but his cruelty to the objects could likely be interpreted as just a culture difference between Algebraliens and objects. I could make a whole separate analysis about this, but right now I’ll just leave it that these aspects of Four’s character are rather interesting.

This is going to be really nitpicky, but I have no clue why Bubble would want Gelatin to win. He’s been nothing but horrible to her the entirety of Post-Split. Maybe you could say the same for Flower’s behavior towards her both here and in season 1, but in that case have her indecisive over her vote, not overly enthusiastic. This choice makes no sense. (Can you tell that Bubble is one of those characters I care way too much over how they’re written?)

Gotta say, very nice how they have Firey reflecting on his actions without outside prompting here, good sign of character development. Now if only they could have had him say something to this effect eight episodes ago… sigh…

From here the episode splits into two plots that it jumps between repeatedly. Going through every scene in the order they happen would start to get confusing, so I’ve given them their own sections. Gonna be honest, not really a fan of how either of these went. Let’s start with the better of the two.

Flower and the Battle for the BFDI

So, Flower and the Announcer start fighting over who should get the BFDI, and Purple Face comes out of nowhere to steal it for himself. They get in the bus, a bunch of other people give some silly reasons why they should have the BFDI, and then the bus is dangling off a cliff. Everyone hops out except those still fighting over the BFDI: Flower, the Announcer, and Purple Face.

Purple Face does not need to be here.

Flower wants the BFDI because she won, it’s her rightful prize, very valid. Announcer wants the BFDI because it’s his life’s work and, as he reveals here, the only remaining copy of that work, very valid.

Purple Face wants the BFDI just because he thinks he deserves it. His reason for wanting it is just as stupid as all the reasons the other characters (who aren’t Flower or the Announcer) gave for wanting it, and those were all treated as jokes. Hell, Firey (and by extension Leafy) DEFINITELY had a better reason for wanting the damn thing.

Why are we supposed to be taking this seriously? Purple Face has been nothing but a joke character the entire season, and now they suddenly want people to feel bad for him. So much of this scene is dedicated to him over Flower and the Announcer, the two this scene should have been focused on.

Time to get to the much weaker of the two plots.

Gelatin Helps Four Find Out His Value

Okay, I’m about to be way too overly negative, so let’s have something positive for a breather. “Choo Choo! Think again, Balloon Buddy!” is one of the best jokes in the entire series. I will not elaborate.

So, Four starts to run away, and all the characters who didn’t go after Purple Face (except Profily) chase after him. After a bit, they all end up on the sun, and a character gives a speech about how they’re all mad at Four, how he’s hurt them and been mean to them throughout the entire season, and he still expects them to all stick around for him?

Pretty nice speech, I wonder which character gives it?

Maybe Bubble? She’s constantly going under ire and has had to take a lot of shit this season.

Or maybe Flower! Maybe she could reflect on when she was a bad person, and how she turned around to better herself, and try to impart the things she learned onto Four.

Perhaps X! They’re Four’s best friend, and have certainly been hurt by him throughout this season. Maybe he could show Four sympathy for the objects? This is probably the best option, because of how close these characters are.

But no, none of these characters make this speech.

Gelatin makes this speech.

Gelatin.

Motherfucking Gelatin.

MOTHERFUCKING. FORK-FLINGING. PEOPLE-PUSHING. BOMBY-EXPLODING. GELATIN.

Gelatin is the last character who should be giving a speech about how being mean to people is bad. HE IS A GODDAMN MENACE! HAVING HIM SAY THIS MAKES HIM INTO A GIANT HYPOCRITE!

And then they play a montage on the BFB to show how fun this season actually was, and convince Four that they all really do like him. Am I the only one that thinks Four got off a little scot-free for the whole murdering and tormenting his contestants thing?

Whatever, let’s take a look at the supposedly “fun” moments of BFB that they want to give Four credit for:

Flower getting excited for like a second that she didn’t get eliminated, before running off in embarrassment because she tried to celebrate with the contestant who actually did get eliminated

A scene mere moments before Four despawns X again

A bunch of people playing with the popper toys, something that had no involvement from Four and likely would have happened regardless of his presence

A scene mere moments before Leafy painfully burns to death

Gelatin’s fork stack, which definitely didn’t involve Four because it happened before they showed up

The boring-ass train ride from BFB 21

Four’s almost-four-way-tie song, which I guess gets a pass

Aside from the last one maybe, how is ANY of this meant so show how much fun the cast has had with Four? And to top it all off the most unfitting piano music plays over the whole thing. Absolute dumpster fire of a montage.

Ending Thoughts on BFB 30

Everyone gets together to have a party and all is well in the world. Except for those 50000 dead Davids in Davidland. A shame, really. (that was a joke)

Wow, this best friends line sure aged well, didn’t it, Teardrop? (Actually thinking about it now they probably planned for Teardrop to join TPOT by this point. So why include this line when they already knew one of his best friends ditched him?)

This line is really corny. But also kinda charming? Weird. I guess all she really wanted in the end was friends, and now she has them! Good for her.

And you know, if I ignore how much I dislike how Post-Split reconciled Firey and Leafy, this scene is really cute. Very nice note to end on.

For the episode, that is. We still have stuff to talk about here.

So, about BFB 30 as a whole. Do I think it’s a good BFDI episode? Yeah, I guess. I have my problems with it (as I have more than made clear), but it still has a lot of laughs, and things conclude in a halfway decent way. So yeah, it’s a good episode.

But is it a good finale? I don’t think so. This is supposed to be BFB’s last hurrah, its final impact on the viewers. It should be putting its best foot forward here, but it drops the ball on so many things I can’t in good conscience say it was a satisfying conclusion to the season.

I just hope TPOT handles its finale a lot better.

Post-Split as a Whole

Welp, that certainly was a ride. Time for some closing thoughts.

While it might seem like I dislike characters like Gelatin from what I’ve said in this rant, I really don’t. I like these characters in the other seasons they’re in! Post-Split just kinda doesn’t do all that great with them.

Additionally, I don’t hate Post-Split either. I don’t love it, though. It’s just okay. It has some high highs, and some pretty deep lows. It has a lot of little things (and some major ones) that all together keep me from loving it like I do all the other seasons.

I’ve seen some people say the Split was the nail in the coffin for BFB, that there was no way Post-Split could have lived up to what came before. I don’t share this opinion. Episodes like BFB 20 and 26 (and to a lesser extent, 28 and 29, and to an even lesser extent, 22) show to me that Post-Split could have been something special.

So what happened? Why did Post-Split turn out the way it did?

I don’t know. I’m not here to do any meta-analysis or anything.

I’m just here to rant.

And rant I have.

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recurringwriter · 13 days ago

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since felicity is a gloucester that makes felix and lorenz cousins but that ALSO makes lorenz and glenn cousins, and lorenz and glenn were likely closer in age than felix and lorenz. so. how do you think lorenz took glenn’s death and how do you think felix and lorenz view each other in the aftermath?

oh this is a really interesting topic! thank you for the ask!

i had to look it up and lorenz is only 1 year older than felix! at the absolute youngest glenn could possibly be, assuming it was shortly after being knighted at 15 when he died (not my personal headcanon), then lorenz would be equally one year between the brothers. So. very close in age, with felix potentially seeming childish and uncool and glenn Possibly being admirable and/or totally full of himself.

I hc a bigger age difference between felix and glenn however. According to my Ember timeline, there's a 4 year difference, and in the eh-u i had them 9 years apart. so in that case, lorenz would be closer in age to felix, but likely want to be seen as a big kid like glenn so he can be taken seriously, and not lumped in with shy crybaby felix. sorry lorenz! kiddie table for you.

okay so then the dynamic and reaction. i don't see the Gloucesters and Fraldariuses getting to see each other often, partly due to the distance and also because of Felicity's strained relationship with her brother. She would absolutely pit her kids against Lorenz to prove that she Won, so Glenn would always be boasting about his achievements and Felicity would do that for Felix if it was clear that he didn't want to show off anything he had learned. basically lorenz does Not have a fun time or many memories of his cousins. and he's still learning haughtiness so i can't really see him endearing himself to either cousin or any of the faerghans and having any nice bonding moments--that has to wait until they're all older and more able to be the people they want to be, rather than what their parents want.

that all being said, when news arrives about the tragedy, I can see mixed feelings on Lorenz's part. his cousin was insufferable and rude on purpose to get a rise out of people. he was a show-off and hardly noble in his bearing. while felix was timid and yet still somehow looked up to glenn. just overall, bad impression.

and yet--

the way his father takes the news makes him uncertain. as little as lorenz liked his cousins, this is not something to be considered a 'win' over his aunt felicity. there is real uncertainty in the world because of what happened, and glenn died, and lorenz knows this isn't the kind of thing you gloat about. that's not noble. it's so far away, sudden, and hard to wrap his mind around--he isn't sure whose lead to follow. His mother probably gently reminds her husband to send sympathies, and he then does so. that's all Lorenz really has to think about it until he goes to the School of Sorcery to study--if he sees Felicity there, he realizes how difficult things were for her. i think he'd be super awkward, and she'd still be too withdrawn to really acknowledge that her pushing her kids to compete was wrong of her. it's a brief meeting, and then lorenz has to go home because of the western rebellion(?) anyway.

at the officer's academy is the first time lorenz sees felix again. he's startled by the change in felix. there's a combination of 'he's very rude and i want nothing to do with him' and 'i saw his mother and how rough she looked in fhirdiad. i should try to make peace'. but lorenz still isn't very good at that and felix certainly doesn't want to. felix views lorenz as frivolous and sheltered. the competition their parents stoked seems like a distant memory of lorenz's pettiness, and felix has no time for that anymore. they don't interact much and react poorly whenever someone points out that they're related.

they wouldn't reconcile until the war arc i think. lorenz would admire felix's loyalty and willingness to protect his homeland. felix would respect lorenz joining his men and participating in the fight. felix would gain lorenz's respect off the battlefield in a quiet moment, and lorenz would gain felix's on it by being cunning and keeping his allies from getting hurt. i don't see either of them opening up a lot about glenn, but there would be some shared camaraderie in remembering glenn as the gremlin he was.

#thank you for the ask!#this was fun to think about. i haven't thought much about lorenz and glenn as a cousins the way i have him and felix.#there's so much distance in geography and just family expectations...

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fuckyeahpunkflower · 2 years ago

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Guys guys guys its AU time! With older Miles(18) and older Hobie (20). (Also no spider man powers, normal times)

Miles is attending a prestigious University in Northern New York after years of studying and applying for scholarships at Visions. Rio and Jefferson are super proud of him although a bit sadden that their baby boy is now a young man leaving the house.

On the plus side, Miles is SUPER stoke to finally FINALLY have his very own dorm ALL TO HIMSELF! no more cramped spaces, uncomfortable bunk beds or missing shoes (that somehow always made an appearance again when Ganke returned to the room) Miles admits he will miss Ganke but they'll definitely catch up over some games on the PS4 and summer breaks.

But the best part about this university in Mile's opinion is the fact they allow pets on campus and in dorms. Which means he can live his dream of owning a dog. He's always wanted a dog since he was a kid but his parents never thought he was responsible enough to take care of it ( but mainly because Rio and Jefferson didn't want to deal with a toddler and training a puppy at the same time) Now that Miles is grown he's decided its time to make his own decisions. And that decision was to get a dog the moment he moves into his dorm. It took him 2 weeks to get settled in with his belongings and getting familiar with his classes around campus but after that he was heading towards the nearest pet shelter he could find.

And here we enter Hobie Brown! He works at the local pet shelter which houses all sorts of abandoned and neglected pets. From your typical cats and dogs to reptiles, birds, and even fishes, Hobie is there to take care of them all! And on the weekends he playing with his band mates.

Anyway Cue Miles entering the pet shelter and he's immediately greeted with the site of Hobie. They make brief eye contact and Miles freezes in place lost in thought *Damn, I was not expecting to see someone so fucking cool and hot today oh my gosh get it together you're here for a dog you're here for a dog you're here for a-*

"You know usually people tend to rush straight to the pups and ignore me but with the way your staring at me right now I can't say I'm complaining. your face is the same shade as the pups little red rockets back there" Hobie snickers

"Bro WHAT!?" Miles yelled in utter shock. He was NOT prepared for any amount of what was said to him in that moment. "What- I mean- like man- that was the wildest response I've ever-" He stops rambling to gain his composure back. "Look man, I came in here hoping to adopt a dog, can you help me or what?"

Hobie looks at Miles with amusement in his eyes "Sure thing love, straight to the back we go!"

And that was Hobies and Miles first interaction at the pet shelter.

Back to the p o i n t!!!

This is basically a college Miles and pet shop worker Hobie (except its a shelter) AU merged into one. Basically Miles visits the shelter every week looking for a dog to adopt and Hobie shows him around. With each visit Miles begins to learn more about Hobie and his relationship with the animals at the shelter. Like how Hobie absolutely adores this grey African parrot that was left in the cage on the street. Its feathers are sparse and sheds but it loves to mimic Hobies Cockney accent.

Eventually Miles adopts a cute senior black Labrador named Orca due to the white and gray furs around her eyes. Even after getting his dog he still visits the shelter between classes to talk to Hobie.

So like yeah in order to keep this short before I literally write the first fucking chapter of this AU on here.

Miles is in college and develops feelings for Hobie while he helps him adopt a dog. They hang out sometime later and Eventually BOOM they're boyfriends :D

#punkflower #miles x hobie #i NEED to see more domestic stuff with these two #WHERE ARE THE COFFE SHOP AUs?!#THE TATTO AND PIERCINGS PALOR MEETS FLOURIST AU'S?!#come on yall i belivs in us

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donationwayne · 1 year ago

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Seven Several Sentence Sunday

Hello, I was tagged by @disasterbuck !!!!

Just wanted to post another little snippet of my long ass 911 Big Bang fic because that's mostly what I've been working on and I'm stoked to share!!!! (to be tagged when i start posting pls interact with the post linked below)

Anyways, have a clip of Bobby and Athena telling Buck that they're getting married! Also please ignore typos, this is my first draft and my first drafts are always rough LOL

“You bet on us?” Bobby said in thinly veiled amusement. “Like both of you don’t have money in a pot about me,” Buck accused. “There’s always a pot going on someone. When are you going to tell the others?” “Soon,” Bobby admits. “We’re going to work out some details before telling everyone but it’s going to just be something small. I was wondering if you’d be my best man.” Buck freezes, tears springing into his eyes. “Me?” He was floored by the question, it was completely unexpected. “Yes you, Buck,” Bobby says, his voice is gently and lilts up at the edge with amusement. “You’re sure? Me?” “We’ve really gotta work on your self-esteem issues kid,” Bobby crosses the room to give him a hug. “Is that a yes?” Buck squeezes Bobby tightly. “I’d be honored.” Buck informs him seriously. Bobby smiles and squeezes his shoulder taking a step back. They sit down to dinner and around a mouthful of chicken Buck tells them both its strange hearing their voice on the other end of the radio in a different capacity than he’s used to. “Chew before you talk, Buck.” Athena scolds, “The last thing you need is a second tracheotomy.” Buck flushed pink while Bobby belly laughed. “Yeah, yeah.” Buck grumbled. Buck is laying on the couch two hours later while Athena and Bobby bicker over what to watch. He’s content to listening to them banter feeling soft and full of affection. He’s also thinking about Eddie again and coming out and even though he knows Bobby and Athena won’t think anything of it his stomach aches. “Buckaroo, you okay over there?” Athena asked.

Anyway, here's a little clip of what's to come!!!

Let me know, or interact with THIS POST HERE to be tagged when I start posting in September!!

I'm tagging @daffi-990 and any of my other writer mutuals!!! If you want to do this, pls tag me so I can see!!!!

#911 big bang #buddie fanfic #bobby and athena are buck's parents #seven sentence sunday #several sentence sunday #bobby as bucks dad #athena as bucks mom #athena grant #bobby nash #911 on abc #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #buddie fic #buddie ao3 #buddie #911 abc #911

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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Any thoughts on Goku and Yamcha's dynamic

Pretty much the same as Goku and Krillin's but with much less dedicated screentime and opportunity for the two of them to bond.

Goku and Yamcha didn't exactly get off on the best foot. Remember that time Goku hit Yamcha so hard he bounced him off the edge of the panel?

Good times.

Yamcha sometimes gets miscredited as having won this fight due to Goku being too hungry, but it's more accurate to call it an inconclusive result. Though Goku dominates the fight for its duration, he admits himself that he's too hungry to keep going on like this. However, they're interrupted before Yamcha has a chance to put that to the test.

Yamcha gives as good as he gets here, hitting Goku with his signature Rogafufuken or Wolf Fang Fist.

But Bulma's arrival interrupts the fight before either of them can strike a decisive blow. To be honest, there are better feathers to put in Yamcha's cap than "Maybe could have won a fight with a starving Goku if the presence of femininity didn't make him shriek in terror and flee."

Like, remember that time he defeated the Oozaru?

Granted, that was as much Puar's win as Goku's, but still.

Man, this moment is made way more impressive by the later context that this is a planet-killing abomination meant to exterminate all life on Earth and not just Goku reacting badly to lunar exposure.

Oolong may have saved the world from Pilaf but Yamcha and Puar saved the world from the fucking Saiyans.

Goku and Yamcha get along pretty well moving forward. Goku's a bit naive, but that also means he isn't the type to hold grudges.

By the time of the 21st Tenkaichi Budokai, he is positively stoked to see Yamcha again - Even if his presence comes at a bit of a bittersweet shock to Yamcha since it ruins his chances at the championship.

Still, it's nice to have a chance to rekindle the friendship. In fact, this is the beginning of Goku and Yamcha earnestly being friends, since he was trying to manipulate them and steal the Dragon Balls in the back end of the last arc. An effort that ended in him effectively being abducted by Bulma in a similar fashion to how she would one day abduct Vegeta.

Bulma's nothing if not consistent about bringing home dangerous wild men and claiming ownership of them. She doesn't have a type so much as a methodology.

This settles Yamcha into his role of being the martial arts lore guy, who knows everything about everyone competing in the space. These were credentials he'd previously introduced in private while spying on Goku and Bulma.

So having him become the Team Wikipedia for rival martial artists was a natural jump for his character. This was clearly something he was passionate about from the get-go.

At least, whenever it was applicable. Yamcha's knowledge was limited by how many newcomers ended up in the space.

And, unfortunately for Yamcha, this also marked the beginning of the. Um. Other trend for him in the Tenkaichi Budokai.

In the ring, Yamcha's pretty much a punching bag to establish how formidable the other characters are. Backstage, however, is another story. There, Yamcha, Krillin, and Goku all support each other and cheer each other on.

They just don't get a lot of panel time to show it. Yamcha tends to be excused from the more serious arcs. He's uninvolved with Red Ribbon until the Uranai Baba Tournament, his broken leg keeps him out of the Piccolo-Daimao arc almost entirely, Bulma disinvites him from the Raditz altercation and he dies first in the Saiyan brawl which keeps him out of the Namek arc....

Yamcha gets written out a lot. Consequently, he has a hard time finding opportunities to interact with Goku on-panel. All he really has is backstage at the Tenkaichi Budokai, which is panel space that's more often than not taken up by the fights themselves.

Due to his frequent eliminations, he's never fought Goku again since their two bouts in the desert.

Nonetheless, it's clear that their bond is meant to be pretty tight. As practitioners of Kame-senryu, Goku, Krillin, and Yamcha are a band of brothers.

Muten-Roshi: Yamcha, you're in. Goku: Oh, that's so cool! Now we can finally spend actual time together and bond as friends and-- Muten-Roshi: Goku, you're out. Goku: Dagnabbit.

The Uranai Baba Tournament offers Yamcha a chance to finally strut his stuff:

Before falling back on shitstomping him to hype up Goku's rivals.

But again, Goku and Yamcha are given little time to interact with one another because one of them is in the ring for 4/5 of the tournament.

Even the anime has a hard time expanding on their relationship due to Toriyama's tendency to write Goku into isolation during long stretches of time where filler episodes could be inserted. Goku and Yamcha can't exactly hang out while Goku's in heaven training with Popo, can they? By the time Goku started spending downtime with friends and family, Yamcha had long since fallen out of focus.

Nonetheless, it's clear that Goku cares about Yamcha. When Tenshinhan breaks his leg in the ring, Goku's the first person to run to his side.

And while the time they spend together backstage isn't much, it's not nothing either.

When they can find panel time for it, they're the kind of bros who change clothes and look at each other's butts together. :P Yamcha even got to be the one to explain what marriage is for Goku.

It's when you live in the same house. Thanks, Yamcha-pedia! Goku can do that much, easy!

Note: Goku cannot do that much.

But between the legendarily non-social Goku vanishing for years at a time without a word to his friends and Yamcha being constantly out-of-focus in just about every major non-tournament arc, there simply aren't many opportunities for them to have a scene together - At least, outside of group events that don't offer much in the way of personal dynamics.

"Hey, Goku! Me and the boys are here, doing some of that training you did!"

This is the first conversation they've had since the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai six years ago. And that is all they have to say to each other. Because Yamcha doesn't get to do things and Goku isn't social.

This is their entire conversation. The rest of the scene is just Yamcha listening in while Goku and Kaio chat about the plot.

And that's the most involved he gets to be during the entire Namek arc. The most time Yamcha and Goku spend together after the Tenkaichi Budokai ends is this.

Which Goku is barely even conscious for.

There just aren't many opportunities for them to interact directly. So Yamcha ends up having to settle for always being just. Like. One of the guys.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #son goku #yamcha

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