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une-femme-de-lettres · 3 years

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KINKTOBER Day 1

Knife Play | Zoro x Reader

Words: 1400

Content: kinky and suggestive but nothing really explicit

A/N: This is not exactly knife play, but close enough…

There was an unspoken rule between you and your crewmates. Whether Zoro was napping, plunged deep into an alcohol daze, or simply zoned out while training, you should never sneak up on him or take him by surprise. Ever.

So you didn’t really know what crossed your mind the moment you decided it was a good idea to climb up the ladder leading to the crow’s nest to bring him a blanket. It was a rather cold night and you thought it wouldn’t hurt for him to have something in case he needed some warmth. At least it was what you told yourself to avoid admitting that you couldn’t find sleep, alone in your bed, while he was on watch.

You quietly made your way through the trap door and closed it behind you only to find Zoro sitting in a corner, his head kept down as he snored softly in the silence of the night. You smiled slightly at the sight, noting the katana he held against his torso.

As predicted, the air was rather chilly in the crow’s nest and as usual, Zoro’s upper body was only covered with his green coat. You slowly made your way towards him, unfolding the blanket before bending over slowly in front of him.

You didn’t have time to lay the blanket on his sleeping figure before you were, in what felt like an instant, pushed back against the wall. The silence was broken by the sound of a blade sliding out a its sheath and you gasped, feeling the coolness of the metal sink ever so slightly into the skin of your neck.

Your hands still clutched the blanket tightly as you laid eyes on the glistening blade. Zoro stood completely still, every one of his muscles had precisely moved into a fighting stance. He was a couple of feet away from you, the arm that held the katana to your throat only slightly bent at the elbow.

You watched the tendons in his hand move ever so slightly under his skin as he gripped the handle tighter. The movement, while practically imperceptible, made the metal of the blade sink deeper into your skin, not yet drawing blood, but enough to make you feel like the coldness of it slowly seeping into the pulsing veins of your neck.

You blamed confusion, or surprise perhaps, for what happened in the next few seconds. Maybe it was pure instinct or maybe it was your subconscious taking over your body in this moment. But when your felt the blade on your neck, the sheer power that he had over you in this instant, in this position, you let out a moan.

You thought it was a gasp, or a sigh when it formed in your chest. But as it passed your vocal cords, your eyes travelled along the blade to his chest and along his neck to his face, it turned into a deep moan of both fear and anticipation.

You could pinpoint exactly the moment the sound reached his ears because his eyebrows, previously furrowed in deep focus, raised in genuine surprise. You could also tell the exact moment he figured it out as his eyebrows furrowed again, his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips bending into a smirk. He knows, you thought, he knows…

“Sorry I startled you,” you said, your voice a mere whisper, scared of moving too abruptly as the blade was still pressed to your skin. You looked at him in the eyes, waiting for a response but he remained still, his gaze baring into yours. “You can… you can put that down now,” you said, looking at the katana not sure what you were afraid of exactly.

He then took a step towards you, his arm expertly moving to accommodate the change of position while still holding the metal in its exact place. He was so close however, that you could now feel the heat radiating from his body, you could feel his calm breath meet your ragged one in the empty space left between you. The mere sight and feeling of his body so close to you awakened something in you. You slowly let out a shallow sigh.

“You never told me,” he said, making you look at him in the eyes again. His voice had deepened but that same smirk was still on his lips. You could pretend you didn’t know what he meant, but could you really…?

“I didn’t know,” you simply said, stating the truth, waiting for his next move. He only inched closer to you, ever so slowly, his every move precisely calculated. He was now so close that you could feel his breath against the other side of your neck.

“Do you want me to put it down…?” he whispered into your ear, making you shudder. You found his eyes from the corner of yours. You already knew the answer, but would you dare saying it out loud?

Zoro patiently waited for your answer. Your breath was still irregular, and you struggled to contain the rising heat inside your core. He had often found himself in a position of power during your intimate time together, but you never felt something so strong and enticing. The danger made it all the more exquisite.

“I’m yours,” you let out, you voice shaky yet your words resolute. As the sweet sound of your voice reached his ears, his smile widened. He looked briefly to the side before laying eyes on you again, looking at your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

“I like to hear that,” he said, coming even closer and gently biting the lobe of your ear, making you moan and close your eyes. You finally dropped the blanket you were holding this whole time and for a moment forgot your position. You felt the metal dig deeper into your flesh and gasped, your eyes suddenly open and you mind alert again.

He kept staring at you, drinking in the sight of you, helpless under his blade. You sighed when the sharp edge left your skin, only leaving a scratch where it had previously laid. Your eyes found his hand as it gripped the handle of the katana tighter, turning it every so slightly so that the flat side of the blade was pressed into your flesh.

He moved deliberately slowly to ensure you could watch every second of the little show he was putting on. He moved the sword down gently, letting the metal glide along your skin, down your neck, along your collar bone and onto your clothed breast.

His body, pressed into yours made you feel just how much he desired you. You now couldn’t help the flow of heat towards your core. You felt your nipples harden under the fine fabric of your top as the blade passed over your breast. The coolness of the metal against your perked nipple made you sigh in pleasure and he smiled again, looking down at your chest.

With extreme care, he moved the blade to the side, gliding in along the fabric, revealing your nipple from underneath. The friction of the beveled edge of the blade against your sensitive nipple and the imminent danger of having a sharp edge so close to a part of your body drew a moan from the depths of your throat.

“Do you like it?” Zoro asked in a breath. You looked back at him. An almost imperceptible nod from you was enough for him and he dipped into the crook of your neck again, kissing and nibbling at the skin under your ear. “We’re certainly going to have some fun with this later…” he announced in the shell of your ear, slowly withdrawing his sword.

You didn’t anticipate the void you felt when he did so. You looked at him in the eyes again and you could swear he saw the disappointment in your gaze. Once the sword was carefully laid down against the wall beside you, he pressed his lips to yours to capture you into a passionate kiss.

With the blade gone, you found a burst of energy within you and you cupped his face with your hands, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. Both of your bodies ignited with a new flame, you let yourselves go in each other’s arms. At this point, you did not care to find sleep, you just wanted to feel him against you, to feel him inside you.

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tags: @some-piece I’m tagging you cause I saw your post and I think you like Zoro?👉👈 I don’t know if you’re into this kink though😳

#one piece #one piece zoro #One Piece Fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #roronoa zoro #reader insert #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #knife play #barely edited #sorry #ufdlanime

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blog-of-hubris · 2 years

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“Bonds in Jujutsu Kaisen” Vol 1

“Bonds in Jujutsu Kaisen” Vol 1: Best Friends: Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru.

My series on Bonds in Jujutsu Kaisen & their impact on the story, starting with the strongest duo.

Jujutsu Kaisen has become a raging popularity globally in the manga and anime community for many reasons; ranging from the action to the character interactions. In this new series, I’ll be analyzing my favorite aspect of Jujutsu Kaisen (all story media really): The Character Relationships aka Bonds. These can be positive, negative or neutral Bonds, but nonetheless if there is something to dissect then I will! This First Volume will be different than the rest (for obvious reasons) simply to explain how these will be laid out in this Series. The bonds between characters in jujutsu Kaisen are extremely crucial to the story so I want to be clear how I lay out these posts! So if you’re interested in this continue on! WARNING: These posts are not for light readers, or skimmers!

Series Set Up:

Each Volume will be broken down into multiple parts (2+), the main parts will always be;

“Who These Characters Are to Each Other” & “Bond’s Story Impact”. There may be additional sections a Volume if it is interesting and/or integral to the Bond being discussed i.e “How this Bond impacts ____” or “Character Romance/Shipping”.

These section titles should be self explanatory so I won’t deep dive into those. Another crucial thing to note for this series is your participation! Please comment below characters you would like to see covered/topics involving them (otherwise you’ll be at my mercy). Also, feel free to ask any questions to me directly, I’m always available! All of the JJK Bonds posts will be under the “ jjk bonds series” tag! Now, onto the content!

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Who are these characters to each other?

Gojo Saotru and Geto Suguru, is probably one of the most popular modern relationships in anime/manga may it be for their bond as best friends, their coolness as strong sorcerers, or even their potential as a couple. These two characters are pivotal for the story and are at the center of everything that makes the stories’ events unfold. But let's specifically focus on the relationship between these two.

Known as “The Strongest Duo” when they were just students, Geto and Gojo took on this title proudly, especially Gojo. However, Geto took a more humble approach, and informed Gojo of how his pompous and hubris could be harmful to his image and relationship with his superiors, something Gojo still struggles with to this day. Its interesting because Geto was also very bold with his words he was just much better spoken and poised.

When analyzing these two, the biggest thing that comes to mind is their seemingly conflicting ideals, and even with them the two seemed to agree on enough to consider each other “best friends”. These are the same two who argued over whether or not they should “protecting the weak” but easily agreed to go against the jujutsu society in order to protect Riko (star plasma vessel) if she desired.

You can say that Geto and Gojo were the perfect partners, understanding each other’s strengths and weaknesses to work together. On top of that they had a true level of trust, to the point that they were confident they could win fighting together no matter who the enemy was. This is one half to the core of their relationship.. Trust. Something that didn't stop even when the two of them became enemies.

Both of them even as enemies considered each other best friends, Geto told his daughters Nanako and Mimiko how important Gojo was to him, hence them not looking for revenge against Gojo, but instead let Kenjaku use Geto’s body to try and accomplish his old goals, but that was not Kenjaku’s plan at all. (RIP Geto’s Legacy)

You ever think about how Kenjaku had never dealt with a body's soul still being active until Gojo said to Geto, “how could you let yourself get used like that Suguru”? I do... all the time... the connection these two had with each other was so strong it awoke Geto’s soul and he has been awake since apparently. You can't be surprised that there are so many people who associate these two’s relationship with romance, because it's clear that Love is the second half to the core of their relationship, may it be taken platonically or not.

This even trickles down to Kenjaku being able to seal Gojo by simply shocking him, appearing as Geto keeping him in thought long enough for the Prison Realm to activate. Only love can shock someone like that, especially Gojo who at the time was heavily focused on the task of protecting the people in B5. I think I've honed in on these two and their relationship together enough, but there is so much you can dissect but it leaves a lot up to personal interpretations, so I’ll share those in a different series and/or format!

(If interested please comment blow!)

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Bond’s Story Impact?

As I dived into at the tail end of the first section, love is the second part to the core of Geto and Gojo’s bond. Like I said previously, whether you treat this love as a romantic or platonic nothing changes the fact that their love for one another helped prop open the door for Kenajaku’s plans.

Hidden inventory is the key arc of reference not only because it is where we see all of Gojo and Geto’s past interactions, it also shows how Geto descended into his dark path. We have to talk about Toji Fushiguro, who of course was the catalyst to Geto’s fall, propelling him into a state of depravity that he felt could only be mended by creating a world with on Jujutsu Sorcerers.

(Yuki plays a part in this as well, but only as an information source, not a true influence of direction).

If Gojo and Geto decide to fight for Riko’s life, then who knows how Kenjaku would have went about his plan, but in the current events Toji interfering with Riko’s decision to live, showed Geto how fragile his power was. Gojo was the opposite, acquiring a state of enlightenment through reverse cursed technique transitioning into the solo “Strongest”. We all saw what this did to Geto, he felt alienated from Gojo.. no longer able to stand by his side but simply watch as he took on the weight of the jujutsu world little by little, while seeing the deaths of other sorcerers begin to pile up... their love began to weaken.. their closeness began to dwindle, and Geto felt that more than Gojo, who had took the opposite approach after Riko’s death.

Its extremely impactful to see Geto reject Gojo’s idea of killing the worshippers who celebrated Riko’s death, while over the next few months Geto became more and more exposed to the atrocities of Non-Sorcerers, may it be out of ignorance or not.. they became all the same to him.. Monkeys.. the thing Toji called himself for lacking Jujutsu. This clearly indicates that Geto was traumatized by Toji’s assault, down to treating Maki like a lesser than being for existing.

(Albeit foolish Geto, If she lack cursed energy entirely that means she can’t create curses.. which is no different than jujutsu sorcerers who just cycle cursed energy in their body.. he was blinded).

Geto loved Gojo, and because they began to separate both in ideals and in strength, Geto began to follow the path he felt would bring his heart happiness. This in turn devastated Gojo, making him fluster in his actions as a jujutsu sorcerer by letting Geto walk away, but not before Geto posses the powerful question of whether he is “Gojo Satoru because he is the strongest or is he strongest because he is Gojo Satoru”. Gojo’s one and only best friend was wondering what defined him, causing Gojo to wonder what the meaning of his strength truly was.

“It looks like me being strong isn't enough, I can only save those who are prepared to be saved”, Gojo had to accept that he could no longer be of help to Geto, and that his pure power could only get him so far. So what is the next step? How does the strongest proceed with more than just power?

Gojo’s answer was simple; become a teacher, which by an odd turn of events leads him to take on Toji’s son Megumi (best boy), as a student, Gojo’s very first you could say. Gojo then dives even deeper into his role as the strongest, altering the balance between curse users and jujutsu sorcerers. Gojo’s ascent to the strongest was the catalyst for his descent while Geto’s descent was the catalyst for Gojo to become the mentor we love today, who wants to raise allies to change the jujutsu world that plagued Geto’s heart.

Years later, Yuta Okkutsu, enters the Jujutsu World, targeted by Geto for Rika in order to continue the plan to eradicate Non-sorcerers. Gojo is clearly in the way of this, and Rika’s power was something Geto felt could be used to help counter that, not in order to kill Gojo but have the power to proceed without him interfering with ease. Still, with this evil mindset we still see Gojo and Geto have their final moment together after Yuta defeats the latter in battle, with neither one having any form of resentment towards the other.

Gojo even explains to Geto that he TRUSTED Geto to not kill Inumaki and Panda hence him sending them back without worry. Once again, their trust goes beyond their ideals, making it clear that love has to be involved because how can you trust someone who has already murdered innocent people? Including his own parents..

This final moment of love between these two (literally Geto smiling knowing he about to die + that cryptic last line we never hear Gojo say that most likely was “I love you”, because why would Geto say “at least curse me a little in the end”), was their final reconciliation, and it caused Gojo to make a drastic mistake of not letting Shoko destroy his body. This moment of weakness gave Kenjaku the final opportunity he needed to start enacting his plans, and re-establishing the only weakness Gojo Satoru had: his best friend, Geto Suguru.

Fighting back the tears as im writing this LOL

Now, even his strongest student (maki though?!) Yuta Okkotsu, the same student was was the focal point of Geto and Gojo’s final clash and moment, has taken it upon himself to kill Kenajku so that Gojo doesn't have to kill his best friend a second time. The fact Yuta literally says “I won't let sensei kill his best friend a second time” is what shakes me personally. Tis indicated to me that the things Gojo said at the end of JJK Volume 0 resonated with Yuta. Seeing him repeat it back to himself when invoking confidence in his actions screams how impactful those two were to him, even if Geto was his enemy.

Yuta acknowledges the amount of Love Gojo and Geto have for each other, and he refuses to put his sensei through that again, meaning he will take on their strongest enemy with all the burden attached in order to keep Gojo from reliving that same pain again..

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Conclusion!

Thank you for reading this very long and maybe drawn out post about two of my favorite characters in Jujutsu Kaisen. I hope I did a good job of sharing with you my thoughts using accurate moments and explanations without doing too much speculation (LOL). I enjoyed making this post and plan to make multiple series about Jujutsu Kaisen on my blog, among other series in the future! I most likely will add things to this post that come to my mind overtime, so don’t consider this the final product just version 1!

Click “keep reading” below to see information about post submissions, comments and post edit citations! Thank you!!

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Quality of Life!

If you are mad because I didn't do a section strictly on the romantic relationship between these two.. do it yourself and submit the post to me, I’ll gladly share it if it has some credible things to it! On the flip side, don't send me “anti-ship” posts on these two, because those will never get read. If you have non hateful reasoning, please make that obvious in your submission! Keep all hateful comments to yourself, its embarrassing to see you out here like that. We want the best for everyone! But feel free to send to all your friends and call me stupid, everyone needs an outlet.

True Constructive Criticism is always accepted! Thank you!!

#jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen analysis #analysis #jjk bonds series

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snelbz · 3 years

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I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

#i’ll be seeing you #snacmc ibsy #nessian ibsy #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #1940s au #period au

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

horror film

overview: reader and spencer watch a scary movie and spook themselves into cuddling

genre: fluff/angst?(yall are scared bc of the movie)/kind of humor

warnings: light swearing, mentions of idk like spooky ghost stuff

a/n: i definitely have been watching far too many horror movies for my own good but i dont have a spencer reid to cuddle up with lmao anyway i hope you guys enjoy it !!! please please let me know what you thing :)

masterlist

Spencer didn't understand. after all you guys see throughout the day, you want to come home and watch a horror movie. your whole lives were like one big horror movie.

but, regardless, he would walk to the ends of the earth for you (though he did not plan on telling you that), so watching a scary movie with you wouldn't be so bad. in fact, anything would be good with you. he would happily get a root canal if it meant spending more time with you.

he tried to convince himself: a scary movie is like halloween! and he loves halloween. reading about it. learning about it. but getting his adrenaline pumping via jump scare? hmmm..maybe not.

he didn't watch many horror films when he was a kid. his mom didn't do very well with them. and he liked his foreign films better. but watching the light in your eyes twinkle when you asked him to come over to watch together because you were scared to watch alone? how could he say no?

and you were beyond excited to have him over. even though you guys had already hung out outside of work before, you almost never got to pick the movies. truth be told that was because you went along with almost anything he said so you could get closer. and you planned on watching the movie at a friendly distance.

keyword: planned.

but it was now halfway through the movie and you were both cuddled up together in the corner of the couch. and from the beginning of the movie, anytime something remotely creepy happened, Spencer would lean over and whisper what a reasonable explanation could be. or tell you how statistically improbable the events of a certain scene was. and so you two drew closer and closer. and he convinced himself he was telling you the statistics and facts to make sure you dont get too scared; but really it was himself he was trying to calm down.

the movie was what it said it was; scary. but you had watched your fair share of horror movies, and though a couple of the jump scares got you, you were getting a little disinterested and distracted.

every time he leaned over (rather, now he was leaning down) and whispered something to you, you had to fight the urge to kiss him. not to mention. you were snuggled up to you're best friend who you were secretly crushing on and he was pulling you impossibly closer with every creepy scene that flashed on screen. and you were more exhausted than you knew. and Spencer was just so damn comfortable its like the guys arms were made to dream in!

so you started dozing off.

not Spencer.

he couldn't tell if his heart was beating from using you as his own personal teddy bear, or from the horrifying, ghastly scenes unfolding on screen. he didnt even notice you had fallen asleep until he leaned down, eyes glue to the screen, to whisper how unlikely the existence of ghosts was, and you didn't answer. he looked down and let himself audibly sigh. a smile cracking on his lips at the irony of you falling asleep during a horror movie.

one last jump scare had woken you up at the very end of the movie. not so much the jump scare, but the jerk of Spencer's entire body and the slight yelp he let out. and you found yourself feeling sad that Spencer was going to go home.

you told him he could stay if he was scared, to which he replied he was completely not scared (though his lie was very obvious). and having not watched most of the movie, you were able to fall back asleep in no time.

that was not the case for Spencer.

he was incredibly paranoid as he walked up the stairs, afraid an evil spirit would be waiting to scare him in his apartment. and when he lied down to sleep, every shadow that appeared in his room seemed to resemble a ghost. he tossed and turned petrified for about an hour before deciding he couldn't stay alone in his apartment.

so he found himself driving back to your apartment at about midnight to ask if he could sleep in the guest bedroom.

when he arrived at your door you let out a chuckle at his request, giving him a sort of "told you so" talking to as you made arrangements in the guest room so he'd be comfortable. and boy did this make him feel better. he was still very scared, but it wasn't nearly as bad because he knew you were just a room away. he opted to get a glass of water to try and calm down.

you, however, had just now started to be scared as images replayed in your head of things that go bump in the night. you tossed and turned trying not to look at the shadowy corners of your room, but you just couldn't fall back asleep. so you decided to make your way to the kitchen for some water, keeping your head down to avoid spooking yourself via the various oddly shaped nicknacks in your home.

Spencer stiffened as he felt a presence in the room, and he turned to see the shadowy figure of a woman, hobbling towards him, head trained on the floor. he couldn't scream, he couldn't run, he couldn't do anything but stare terrified at the figure.

you looked up as you neared the kitchen, letting out a blood curdling scream when you saw a tall shadow man standing in your kitchen.

Spencer could scream now that the figure began screaming. he let out a high pitched yelp as he stumbled along the wall looking for the light switch. he felt the need to protect you from the ghost, so in a fit of deranged manliness he let out a string of words that in or out of context is completely laughable.

"fuck off you spooky bitch!" the shadow man yelled, finally finding the light switch.

when the light flicked on the confusion and horror stopped. and instead you and Spencer stood equally spooked, in your fight or flight response.

"Spencer?" you croaked, lowering a raised fist. you planned on fighting a ghost?

"y/n?" he asked back equally confused.

"i was getting water what are you doing?" you asked, laughing slightly as you realized what he had yelled out.

"i was too," he chuckled, remembering what he had called out, "sorry for telling you to fuck off and calling you a spooky bitch."

"its ok, sorry for being 100% ready to punch you in the neck."

you two stood in a silence that wasn't exactly comfortable but not awkward either as you got a glass and filled it with water.

"hey do-" he began.

"could i-" you started at the same time.

"you go first," he chuckled, taking a sip of his water.

"i wont be mad if you say no, but could i sleep in the guest bed with you? my room has way too many spooky corners." you asked shyly.

"i was just about to ask that," he smiled.

you let out a relieved sigh before gulping down your water and heading to sleep in the guest room.

you two lied weirdly far at first but after mentioning how the coat hanger looked like a man with horns you two both reached for each other. falling asleep wrapped tightly in each others arms. hearts beating together quickly; but not because of fear.

utra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @remariiana @spencerreid9

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that-damn-girl · 3 years

Text

(2) Daze of Pollen

(Work in Progress - 2 of 8; Slow updates)

Chapter 1

Daze of Pollen Materlist

Pairing: (cis)fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson

Words: 2500+

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only please. Oral (female recieving). Threesome (penetrative sex is in the next chapter). Not exactly bondage but restraining using physical strength. Size kink. That’s it I guess.

Summary: Bucky, Steve, Sam and you are in the safe house post mission when a retrieved Hydra device activates, releasing a kind of pollen you don’t know of, but the effects of which are soon discovered.

A/N: And the smut begins! Sorry this took some while. I’m still taking kink requests if you have any. Hope you enjoy it!

Request included: Not sure if this qualifies but for Daze of Pollen how about a scene where they decide to pin down/restrain one of them while the another person goes to town teasing them?

Also, since size kink was in demand it’s a personal favorite of mine, it’s gonna be kinda constant throughout the fic. So the reader is short in height only. For rest of the part, I’ve tried my best to stay neutral.

You didn't know who leaned into whom, but you didn't care. Soft lips touched yours, drawing you in a kiss. His metal arm curved around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to himself instantly, the other hand slithering up your neck to cup cheeks. His tight hold on you caused you to lean back, but his arm kept you firm against him, tightly pressed to his form.

Despite his eager demeanor, Bucky kissed you with such a gentleness, his lips playing with yours with such soft, feather light touches, it genuinely took you aback, only leaving you yearning for more. Tilting his head, Bucky deepened the kiss. Soft moans arose from your throat, which were swallowed by him.

His hands streamed down to your butt, squeezing your cheeks appreciably. Grabbing your thighs, he hiked them around his waist, lifting you off your feet and into his strong hold. He carried you to your bedroom with slow, measured steps, your hands tightening around his neck to balance yourself. The two other men were left all by themselves in the living room.

Sam and Steve looked at each other, a little dumbfounded, unsure what they needed to do, where they stood.

"Do we…" Steve started, gesturing to follow you and Bucky.

"Uh, I guess…?" Sam answered, unsure of how to go about it. It wasn't every day that he and his friends inhaled some evil organization's pollen and needed to get each other's rocks off to survive. Nevertheless, he followed you and Bucky to your bedroom, curious to see how this would unfold. Steve wasn't far behind.

Bucky sat down on your bed, settling you on his lap, legs on either side of his waist. One of his hands stayed on your butt, kneading your ass, while the other traveled back to your face, cupping it in his protective hold. Your face nuzzled into the heat of his palm, seeking more of him.

Everything else was lost to you, your mind abandoning all thoughts except one. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. His gentle touches on your body. The delicate kisses on your lips. His hands kept you close to him in his caring and protective hold, pulling you into the heat of his body. Your shorter frame settled snugly in his larger one.

"Always wanted to do this, doll. You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you, taste you, devour those fucking sweet lips." Bucky said in between the kisses. "Didn't know it'd come down to this though. Kissing you only because I had to."

You pulled back, taken aback by his confession. "You did?" You asked, heart thrumming wildly.

Bucky nodded. "Day and night, doll. Since forever." The rough pad of his thumb glided across your bottom lip. "Always wanted to hold and kiss you silly so fucking bad."

You couldn't believe it. You had always liked these men, wanted them too - because fuck, how could you not? Admittedly, Bucky a little more than the rest. But to know Bucky wanted you too? Not just as the close friend you had become over the years, but really wanted you in the most sinful ways as you wanted him? It drove you to a new high.

"Fuck, Bucky. Me too." Your lips dawned on his in a harsh kiss.

It lasted only a moment before Bucky pulled back. "Because of the pollen?" He asked, brows furrowed. Worried that your response was only because of the effect the pollen had on you.

"Fuck the pollen. You're what I want, Bucky. You're what I need." You insisted, determined to make him see that you wanted him just as much.

Looking into your eyes, Bucky knew that you weren't lying. That there were no reasons to doubt your words. The disclosure released something primal in him. Knowing that he was wanted, needed even, that too by you, the one person he desired above everyone else? He couldn't hold himself back for a second longer.

With a growl, he pulled you back into him, plump lips kissing you wildly. Any trace of softness left him as he kissed you with an unparalleled hunger. A desire you had never seen before. The kiss grew hot and heated as his tongue traced your lips and entered you not long after. His tongue danced with yours skillfully, lips devouring yours passionately. Bucky gave his all into the kiss, his mind clouded with the thoughts of you and only you.

The outline of his half hard member was prominent beneath your thighs, even through the thick fabric of his jeans. Without giving it much thought, you ground your hips into his, focusing your movements around his length. Bucky groaned at how good it felt. Fingers grabbed your ass as he guided your flow, pushing your hips down on his. Slotting your core directly over his shaft, you rolled your hips unceasingly, drawing pleasure filled moans from both of you.

Not long after, you felt your body heat up. The clothes stuck to your form, the fabric brushing against your skin in the harshest and most irritating of manners. It was nearly suffocating, the feel of the offending fabric overwhelming all your other senses. It only left you with the urge to get rid of them and free your body of the confines.

"God, I'm so hot." Murmuring against his lips, you made to pull off your sweatshirt, leaving you only in your bra.

Bucky only gazed at your chest in wonder for a moment, eyes shining bright. "Fuck, you're perfect." His face landed on your chest, nipping and sucking right above the swell of your breasts. Hands went around your back to unclasp your bra, taking it off you and chucking it across the in record time.

You released a contented sigh as the cool conditioned air swept over your hot skin, the feel of Bucky's lips on your skin even more heavenly. His lips left a wet trail as he traveled down to the valley between your breasts. Your head tilted back, fingers raking through his fluffy hair to grip them tightly. Aroused even further, you could feel your panties getting damp as you rocked your hips further over his erection.

"Get me out of these clothes, Bucky. Please! It's getting too hot." The metal armed man heeded your requests, knowing that the pollen had started affecting you now, knowing exactly what you needed. Not wasting any more time, he made quick work of discarding your sweats and panties before undressing himself.

Bucky threw you down on the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a bounce. With an unsuppressed growl, he climbed on top of your small form, his broad shoulders and tall frame almost covering every bit of you, his hard cock resting heavily on your thigh. You whimpered beneath him, intimidated by his large frame in the most arousing of ways.

Bucky loved feeling your bare pressed into him, your small body quivering beneath him with a desire, a need only he could quell. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby." He breathed, lips attached to your neck, shrouding your delicate skin with hickeys. Hands wandered down your sides until he reached your core. A loud gasp left your lips as his fingers touched your bundle of nerves, stroking it skillfully and steadily.

You could feel your wetness seeping out of you little by little, the insides of your thighs already slick from your arousal. Though it was greatly appreciated, you didn't need him to make you anymore wet. All you wanted, all you needed was him stretching and filling you to your limit on his erection.

"I need you inside me. Need your cock filling me, Bucky." You whimpered under him.

"Easy, baby," He chuckled, "I'm not gonna fuck you without tasting you, making you cum on my fingers, pretty girl." And with that, he slid down your body, kneeling on the floor. Taking a hold of your legs, he dragged you down until your pussy was in his reach, all his for the taking. Resting your legs on his shoulders, he went to town.

You let out a loud, broken moan as Bucky licked a long stripe through your slit. He firmly attached his mouth to your bundle of nerves. The moist, strong muscle of his tongue drew round patterns on your clit, occasionally sucking it into the heat of his mouth.

Bucky and you were lost in each other, uncaring of the world around you. Bunching the sheets by your head, your head turned to sideways of its own accord, your body reaping the pleasures he gave you. So much so that only then did you notice your other two friends sitting on the mini couch in your room. Even from a distance, you could see the outlines of their erections, the thin material of the grey Shield sweats doing nothing to hide them. Their shirts discarded, they both palmed their erections through the fabric, a mix of discomfort and arousal on their faces. It only made your mouth water more. Extending your hand, you called out to them "Sam, Steve…"

Exchanging a glance, the men stayed rooted to their spots. It was only after another desperate call of yours that Sam's resolve broke. Striding across the room in long steps, Sam was at your side within moments. Clutching your extended hand, he brought it to his lips. "My baby girl's enjoying herself, hmm?"

Squeezing his hand, you replied, "Want you too, Sam." A wanton moan escaped your lips right then as Bucky worked magic down below.

Sam smirked. "All greedy, my baby girl is, isn't she? Always wants more and more and more."

You pathetically nodded your head in response, anything to get his hands and lips on your body. Any and all rational thoughts had left your being, leaving behind an unbridled desire, a thirst which could only be satiated by the three men.

Sam couldn't hold himself back as he saw the yearning on your face, a dazed look in your eyes, a sweet little pout on your lips. Grabbing your neck harshly, he pulled you into a long, bruising kiss.

You gasped at the suddenness, but it didn't take long for you to kiss back just as enthusiastically. His hands streamed your body as if memorizing every curve and plain, occasionally stopping at your breasts to squeeze them. You would whimper into his mouth every time he did that, and he would grin into the kiss. He turned your body a bit to the side as he laid down beside you, only enough so that you'd be comfortable and Bucky would still have space.

You grew a little bolder, deciding to creep your hand down your bodies and gripping Sam's erection through his sweats. The new Captain America choked on nothing but air in surprise. Instantly pulling away, he looked at you to find a shy grin already playing on your face, lips caught in between your teeth. You never ceased rubbing his shaft as you looked at him. Sam groaned. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby girl."

Your grin turned brighter in response. Tugging at the waistband, you whined, "Take these off Sammy, need to feel all of you against me."

Sam didn't delay in heeding to your whims, needing himself to get out of the constricting cloth. Discarding it, he quickly resumed his position beside, taking your lips in a hungry, heated kiss. Fingers running over his thick member, you took it in your hands, gripping and stroking it with a tad bit more pressure than necessary, but it was exactly what Sam needed to relieve himself. The protruding veins of his member were prominent, making your mind salivate at only the thought of his veins pulsing inside your pussy.

Something about seeing the way Sam kissed you, bordering on rough and eager. The way his palms squeezed your tits, his fingers playing with your nipples. The way your hand pumped his cock, wrist flicking, occasionally fondling his heavy balls as well, drawing out gravely moans from his throat. The way your face contorted into a mix of pleasure and bliss, a hint of longing still persisting. It spurred on Bucky even more, his length twitching.

The man in between your knees took his own uncomfortably hard cock and stroked it. After giving himself a moment of relief, Bucky left his cock to circle his arms around your thighs, diving into your core with renewed passion.

You couldn't lay still from the sensations coursing through you. Hands roaming your body, a tongue playing skillfully with your own while another working mercilessly with your clit. It was too fucking much to stay still. Your body quivered beneath the two men, your hips rising off the bed. You were yourself confused if you were pulling away from Bucky's touch or rushing towards it.

Regardless, Bucky's hand splayed over your stomach, keeping you in place. But it wasn't enough. Your body was too excited to stay in one place. "Sam, hold her down." Bucky said.

Sam lifted your hand off his cock, bringing both your hands above your head. Crossing them, he clutching both your wrists in one hand simply. The other pushed you on the bed so that you completely laid on your back, before going back to your breast and teasing your nipple. You whimpered at the change in position. Sam clicked his tongue softly. "Shh, it's for your own good. Just enjoy it, baby."

And enjoy, you did.

Sam went back to kissing you furiously, his hands alternating between your breasts, taking turns in playing with your pebble hard nipples. Bucky ate you like a man starved. His tongue pressed down hard on your bundle of nerves, alternating between flicking and swirling it in the most pleasurable of angles. The moist heat of his mouth enveloped you. Tongue attached to your clit, at times he would shake his head too to stimulate you further.

You were truly, blissfully overwhelmed. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier took your body to new heights, closer and closer to your peak.

Thereafter, It didn't take long for your body to tip off the edge, pure pleasure coursing through your veins as your orgasm washed over you. Sam pulled back to see the blissed out expression of your face, loving the way your closed shut and your mouth opened, your toes curling as you moaned loudly, your hips bucking into Bucky's face. The man lapped at your pussy, slurping your release directly from the source, not missing one single drop of it. He moaned at your taste, his vibrations flowing through you, only prolonging your first orgasm of the night.

The first of many.

Chapter 3

Don’t worry, Steve will join the fun soon!

Blog’s Main Masterlist || Tag lists

I’m taking requests if you want a particular kink to be featured. Send me an ask or text me for the same or to be tagged.

Thank you for reading!

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

#Itachi #Uchiha Itachi #Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader #In the eyes #Itachi x fem!reader #Itachi x you #Itachi x y/n #Itachi Uchiha #post naruto shippuuden #naruto fandom #itachi fanfiction #itachi fanfic #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #naruto #anime #x reader #x fem!reader

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

Note

Hi! So, um,, I know this isn't something you should ask a writer so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering,, , your "the white wolves" story has brought me so much joy and I am grateful that you wrote it! I was just wondering, if you're not going to finish it (this isn't meant to pressure you. If you don't want to finish it that is 100% fine and your choice and I'm thankful for the five chapters you gave us!!!) so, anyway, I was wondering what the conclusion was going to be? If you're comfortable answering that. If not, that's absolutely fine of course and I'm sorry for asking.

Thank you so much for your lovely stories and I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Okay first off, we're totally cool don't even worry about it. I am always touched people still care about and think about an unfinished piece from like 10 months ago. And now that I have seen that it's almost been a year I feel it is important to point out that while this fic has clearly been physically abandoned, it has not been emotionally. Or Else I would not have spent the last hour pacing back and forth angrily lamenting that I do not have more hands. I do not want to provide you with an unsatisfactory summary in an undercut about how the story was going to unfold. It is not that I mind sharing these details - I have done so to others who have asked. It's just that admitting something I still love so dearly may never get done hurts.

Hopefully one day I will find that voice again.

Spoilers for a fic that will (probably) never get finished under the cut. It is 2.6k and includes most of the final section.

The next sequence in the story is them all taking a nap on the side of the road. Jaskier gets up and calls Yennifer for help. Do you know that part in the books where Yennifer saves Dandelion and he doesn't know why? Because I owed you one. You kept him from being alone. I think about that alot. I think that's why she comes. Not then. She meets them at the keep in a few days time. She is too tired to arrive before then.

There is a scene of the four of them in an inn. Of Ciri, afraid to sleep least she destroy the inn like she destroyed that forested grove. We have a moment when he looks at candle on the inn nightstand and remembers a inn fire that almost killed him and how he hadn't wanted to sleep in an inn ever again. (I foreshadowed it. It's allowed. I once read that Regis saved Dandelion from an inn fire. I thought it was canon. I know its not. I think. I only ever read the short stories. They sit on my shelf. One day I'll read them.) He understands. Still he tucks her in and tells her it will be alright. That is the empty words of adults who lie to children that they think do not know better. No. It is the empty words of a bard whose job is to write lullabies that get children to bed on time. Besides it will be fine. Even if things go bad, we will be with you the entire time.

These are the two scenes I largely blame for the fact I stopped writing this fic. I got stuck on Yennifer's conversation and then wasn't sure how to get that inn scene to actually play out. Anyway. Back to the part you were actually asking about. What's the deal with the wolves? Both of them.

They arrive at the keep. They are greeted and loved and yeered at and pestered. Jaskier is nervous and concerned as he eyes the silver in their blades. It is strange they believe the doppler. But he was a very good Doppler. He digs his fingers into white fur. Remember you promised. You promised you were him. Don't let it be a lie.

And oh I have lost the voice but they are in the great hall with Vesemir and Eskel and Lambert and Geralt and Geralt and Yennifer. She peers into his eyes and does not reveal him. Silver medallions brush against skin and he does not flinch or melt. Geralt of Rivia is Geralt of Rivia. Of this there is no doubt.

The conversation turns to Ciri and Jaskier quietly slips out. It is snowing, just a few flurries on the still air. The wolf flows him to the room they set their bags in. Geralt's room.

This was not how it was meant to go. This is not how it was meant to go. Yennifer was supposed to look at the doppler and then at him and go what the hell and they would slip away and break the curse on the wolf - on Geralt. And they would quietly change hands. The Doppler into the wolf. The wolf into Geralt. Ciri would not know of the quiet deception they had pulled. The magicians trick with revolving mirrors.

Because clearly the doppler loved them. Because clearly the doppler had chosen them. Do you ever think about how in the short story Geralt is ready to kill the doppler that wears his face and it knows this because it is also him so it turns into Dandelion. Because he Knows Geralt would never hurt Dandelion? It's falling in with a lie. It is so easy to in love with a lie. Jaskier knows this.

It was supposed to be like this. Laying in a bed in the Keep with a white wolf next to him. Playing ballads for Geralt and Yennifer and Ciri and not hurting. Because he'd lay next to the wolf at night and bury his face in its fur. And in the spring they would run off to the coast together. You can wear a different face, whatever one you'd like, and will prove to you again and again that I still love you.

I am good at loving people. You know this about me. I might not be able to love you first. That might be why you love me. Because I loved Geralt of Rivia first. So completely that whatever motive you had you abandoned for the sake of it. For the taste of it. I know what it is like to want so desperately to be loved. Wearing different faces and personalities in the chance that someone might.

I know that very well.

But unlike you I'm always still just Jaskier.

The wolf slips in the door behind him.

Jaskier rounds on him. 'What the actual fuck? What the fuck are you? You Promised me. You Promised me you were him." The medallion bounces off his chest and he hates it. Rips it from his neck and brandishes it like a weapon. "I kept this for you! I thought you were him! You promised me you were him! What are you?! I told you I would help you even if you weren't him! Why?!"

The circle of the medallion cuts into his hand.

"Is this funny to you? Bringing me all the way up here and making me look a fool?! Making me watch Geralt picker her Again? Is this funny to you? You and this sadistic game?!"

And he throws the medallion. It hits the wolf dead on. Hit's his bowed forehead. Right between the eyes. Just in front of his flattened ears.

He has always been a good shot.

It is snowing outside. Just a few more flurries. The winter stretches out, immeasurably long in front of him.

He knows who Geralt chooses. That those 'I love you's are lies. No. Not lies. Geralt did not mean to lie. Not intentional. But it was so easy when your heart is broken to bury yourself in someone that does. Love you. Drowning men love life boats but they'd much rather be on the ship that cast them out.

He knows. It exactly what he was doing too.

I love you doppler. I could love you too.

The winter stretches immeasurably long in front of him.

"I can't do this." There is a bag in his hand. A case. "I can't do this."

There is a whine but he does not hear it as he rushes out the door. He can't do this. Down the stone hall. Wind whips through a hairline fracture in the Keeps walls and cuts his cheeks red where they are wet. He can't do this. Out the doors. Through the large wooden gates. He can't do this.

The winter stretches immeasurably long in front of him.

In the great hall a sickening feeling curdles in Geralt's gut. Honestly its seeing Yennifer again. This is all so wildly out of hand. Even if he knows they need her. That Ciri needs her.

"It's startin' to snow. Your idiot better come back soon."

"What?" He turned to Lambert who had curled up in a mountain of blankets in the window nearest the fire.

"Said it's starting to snow, dumbass."

"No the other part."

"Peacock left a while ago. Think he had the right idea. If I'd know she was coming I'd have stayed down south."

"What?" Snow was coming down hard. Big wet flakes. Could hardly see the keep walls through them. "Why didn't you say so sooner?!"

He shrugged. "His dog went after him."

His gut does a funny thing then. It eases in relief before his brain catches up and yanks tight in terror.

The wolf went after Jaskier.

Jaskier is alone.

With the wolf.

In a snow storm.

Jaskier is is alone in a snow storm. He walks down the mountain alone. As he knew he would. Why did he think it would be any different this time? Why does he never learn? He is a fool.

The wind picks up. The snow buries the path. He huddles in a protected alcove and wishes he'd been thinking clearly enough to steal one of Geralt's cloaks. Just to be petty.

He is probably going to freeze on this mountain. Walking down it alone. He might die. But even if he doesn't something will have died. Something in his chest that he cradled like wounded bird.

How many times must you touch fire, how many times must you be burned before you learn? How many times Jaskier? How many times?

He pulled his doublet tighter around him.

Just the one more time it seemed. Just once more.

Barking. Just one voice barking. Barking into the snow and wind in the distance.

Are you looking for your pack? Did you get lost? Separated? I hope they find you. I hope they answer you. I wish I had a pack to call out to.

The snow drifts down in heavy blankets and there is nothing to do but sleep. All he wants to do is sleep.

There is warmth in his dreams. Heavy and warm and soft and reeking of wet dog and something deeper. Something less domesticated and tame.

"You found him?"

Geralt's voice. Deep and soft. Reaches him. Buried in the snow. Cruel and kind in equal measure. To make him hear that voice before he, probably, dies.

"... Thank you."

There is a gasp. He recognizes it. That shocked little inhale of Geralt's.

"I think... That druid overpaid."

He wakes up to a stone ceiling. To thick and heavy furs covering him. to a wolf pressed into his side. To a man known as the white wolf pressed into the other.

Words will find him soon. But for now they are held back by a dam of confusion and exhaustion.

Geralt reaches an arm over him and scratches at the wolf's forehead. "Hm." Got it. The hum says. The same one he uses when Jaskier reminds him to pick something up in town. Hm. Got it.

The dam breaks.

"Oh so you're just okay with each other now? Everything is hunky dory? Jaskier goes out into a snow storm and you drag him - Unwillingly mind you - back here and now you're best fucking friends?! Well it's not all A-O-Kay over here so perhaps you might let me up so I can demand Yennifer do me the solid of getting me out of this godforsaken keep?" He wiggled under the mountain of blankets that held him captive.

"Wha-" Geralt's hand pressed down on his chest. Preventing escape.

"Or you know just go back to the love of your life, take your one goddamn blessing and leave me be!"

"Jask-"

"Oh don't give me that- you're gonna run right off after Yennifer and we both know it and you," Glared. Bared his teeth at the wolf. "Are a lying manipulative bastard and I hope she turns you into a gnat or a pigeon or - or something!"

"Jaskier!"

His jaw clicked closed. He did not soften his gaze.

"We- He - it's not. He didn't lie."

He scowled harder at Geralt.

"You remember that druid Ciri told you I helped?"

"... Vaguely."

A woman and woman who was not her wife. But was. In his story, in his song, he would tell it as if she was.

You saved my heart, I don't know what I'd have done if she. She. Witcher how can I ever repay you?

What food do you have on you?

Uh.

Fine. We don't have time. Don't tell them which way have gone.

No that's not- perhaps the law of su-

No. No. Lie. That will be enough.

It's not!

"He," Nodded to the wolf. "Was how she decided to pay."

He studied Geralt. Then the wolf. Their matching golden eyes.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Geralt grimaced. Hair falling over his face. "He's a familiar. She made him for me. Of me."

He studied the wolf again, distrustingly. "How does that work?"

Shrugged a shoulder. "You'd have to ask Yen."

"Don't care that much." He tried to wave his hand and the idea off but couldn't get it free from the covers. "Shouldn't you have known then? If he's made of you?"

"We weren't... connected. You have to. Touch."

"Oh and she thought you'd just go out of your way to touch a big white wolf? Honestly what was the plan there? You'd have just killed the damn thing."

"Mhmm."

"Seriously what kind of mad man goes out and pets a two hundred pound wolf? Could have at least tied a note to its neck for explanation before setting it loose on the countryside, wandering around looking for you."

"It wasn't..." He hummed his prodding question. "Looking for me. That's not what it was supposed to do."

"And pray tell what was it supposed to do?"

Geralt was quiet. The charged quiet that said he knew the answer but didn't want to tell him.

Eventually. With a fair bit of glaring and wiggling on his part, he answered.

"She was repaying the favor."

"Oh and what's that supposed to mean?! What you saved her partner and she sent the wolf to go out and save yours?" He scoffed. "What did she magic you 'a white wolf to protect your heart when you could not?' as you did for her? Is that it? Absolutely absurd, I wouldn't write that drivel."

Neither Geralt met his eye.

"Geralt...?"

"That's..." He ducked his head. "Hm."

Right.

"But then why-"

A wolf appears in the darkness. All white fur and golden eyes. Protects him from the bandits. Brings him a rabbit when his stomach growls.

I love you Jaskier. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize.

They lay on the bedroll and Geralt kisses him like a thousand drunken kisses. Like a thousand sober ones. And the wolf follows after Ciri and comforts her when they cannot.

The wolf seeks him out in that ruined clearing while Geralt cradles Ciri. While Geralt debates with Yennifer and Vesemir over Ciri's fate. Her training.

I love you Jaskier.

Protect his heart, white wolf, when he cannot.

"Oh."

He let his head fall to the side. Watched Geralt watch him with those golden eyes he had memorized decades ago. Listened to the sound of his breathing that was more familiar than his own.

"Tell me again."

Geralt cocked his head a fraction. Brow furrowed in confusion.

"Tell me again, what I did not believe. If it is true. Tell me again. Geralt of Rivia."

"Tell you...?"

"I love you, Geralt. Despite all sense and reason. Do not lie to me. Do not pretend if I am fated to walk down that mountain alone again. Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened. He pushed himself up and over him. Caged him in his muscular, scarred arms. Shoved the wolf aside.

It grumbled. Huffed. Walked out of the room. Towards Ciri. Towards his heart.

"Jaskier. I love you." He said again.

And this time. This time he believed him.

"Then, You absolute fool and dullard." With only Geralt to hold him down he worked his arms free. Held Geralt's head in his hands. Traced the stubble of his jaw that he could, if he needed to, shave blind. From memory alone. "Kiss me. I have waited long enough."

Geralt leaned down and did.

He remembered the barking of a single wolf. It's howls into the storm. Searching for its pack.

I hope your pack finds you. He wished to its unseen form.

Mine did.

#writing #the white wolves #geraskier

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loquaciousquark · 4 years

Text

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E113 (Oct. 27, 2020)

Good evening and good night, lovely people of the world! We’re on the internet and ready to go. Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Sam Riegel. This will be calm, controlled, and sane, I can feel it. Brian points out it’s been seven months since either of them were on Talks. Oof. (Sam asks if it’s been going the whole time without him. Bigger oof.) Travis keeps sneaking bites out of an acai bowl or something and tries to look sneaky about it, and I laugh every time because he’s just...so big. He’s such a big person.

(Brian is wearing a lobstrosity shirt. He and Travis talk about Dark Tower for a bit; then Sam tries to get into the conversation: “Is that the thing from It?” Brian: “Is what the thing from It?” Sam: “Is that lobster the clown from It? I’m not very literate. Is that a Langolier? Is that a Shawshank?”)

Announcements: none! Maybe they just forgot. We’ve been talking about Sam’s spooky skeleton decorations for like five minutes. Brian suggests taking them to Travis’s house. Travis: “That’s the fastest way to get to the smell of burning plastic.” Brian: “Speaking of your girlfriend...”

On Avantika: Fjord wouldn’t call it a relationship as much as a casual sexual interaction. Not official! Super not official!!

The first sea voyage wasn’t great for Fjord, but he tried to be thoughtful about preparing for this one before they left: praying, kneeling at the bow of the ship, etc. He’s a little disappointed the Wildmother didn’t even throw him a “yo, fam” heads up.

They weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict at first, since Avantika went for Fjord rather than the crystal. No one expected it to get exposed in that way. Travis thought the necklace was a pocket dimension and was alarmed to learn it wasn’t. Travis wants it destroyed along with the third gateway, so until they are he won’t rest easy.

Everyone enjoyed watching them all fail on the battlefield again. (Sam: “You used [Counterspell] so effectively!”) Travis thought he’d said Thunder Step, which would imply Avantika was running, rather than Thunder Wave. Sam says it’s fine since none of them have that spell and he wouldn’t know it anyway.

It’s very difficult for Veth to find reasons to stay with the M9. She loves the adventures and making a difference, but she also wants to come home and have weekends and have a husband and life. “She’s a career girl!” He’s very excited about the possibilities of Caleb’s transportation effectively creating an easy commute for her. He also, as a player, doesn’t want to be the person who’s always leaving the party. “My characters wanna roam!”

Travis was fully tilted that Avantika might have gotten away right before the break. He doesn’t think he could have focused on Vess DeRogna’s task knowing Avantika had gotten away; he was seriously working out how Fjord would leave the party to go make a last stand at the third gate if she’d escaped.

Sam looooves how Matt plays Yeza, but it honestly makes him feel a little worse at how encouraging he is for Veth to chase her dreams. “He’s always like - go shine! Go blossom!” He wants to have the conversation about Yeza feeling a little ignored. It’s fun to share the tales of adventures with Luc & Yeza.

Travis says there’s no way it’s Molly--it’s all Lucien. They don’t know if it was a resurrection, if he’s undead, possessed, etc. Everyone--everyone--rags on Taliesin’s accent work. Brian surreptitiously claims Ashly was brought on to relieve him of the burden of the accent. Poor Ashly, ha!

Initially, Travis landed on the Oath of the Ancients, but it had more nature & pacifism in it than he felt fit Fjord very well. Many of them also had a focus on good & lawfulness, which also didn’t feel quite right; he also wasn’t that vengeful for some of the others. He & Matt got together and discussed options. Matt asked what Travis liked about Fjord; Fjord’s love for the ocean was a huge part of it, since Travis himself also loves the ocean & scuba diving, and so Matt created a custom oath for him. Travis does not plan to post its details, but he thinks Matt will at some point.

Cosplay of the Week! a lovely Scanlan by Air Bubbles Cosplay! Sam tells us the “canon” Scanlan cosplay was actually borrowed hodgepodge, and the boots were falling off all day.

It was really cool to see how Yeza & Luc have made a home in Nicodranas. Felderwin was okay, but kind of your basic D&D fishing village, and she likes the Nicodranas is much better. She’s confident & comfortable knowing her family is safe and sound.

Why is Fjord so interested in finding Sabian? To him, post-orphanage, his time with Vandren was the best of his life & the most love he’d ever received, because he mattered & had worth. It was taken by someone he’d known basically his whole life, so Fjord is not going to let that go. “That fuckin’ bill needs to be paid, my friend.”

Sam acknowledges that he should NOT have looked at his phone in re: the Vilya reveal, but it was pretty surprising! He can’t believe none of them recognized it! Travis points out the M9 had never met, heard of, or known anything about Vilya, so it’s not that surprising. Brian points out Matt has also done a really good job keeping the two campaigns separate, so any references were tasteful. Sam marvels that it was so well done: it was tasteful, had emotional and story impact... “That Matt. He’s getting better!”

Liam texted Sam back something like “oh SHIT.”

Knowing Veth had a chance to help someone else return to her child made Veth feel almost karmically forgiven for being away from her kid, but it also made Veth a little guilty--”this lady wants to desperately return home, shouldn’t I want to go home too?” Caleb’s teleportation spell couldn’t have come a better time.

Sam wants Caleb & Astrid to get back together (well, he says “hump each other”), and Dani’s eyebrows climb off her forehead. Veth/Nott really thinks Caleb needs to have a roll in ze hay, and feels like after meeting her that there is a kindness or vulnerability to her that could be worthwhile. Travis thinks she feels like someone tethered, that it feels like she has a bomb or something in her chest that’ll explode if she tries to leave. Sam thinks Eadwulf is super cool. None of these names are spelled like I think.

Travis found the dinner super frustrating, because he felt Caleb was trying to walk a diplomatic line and he just wanted to backhand Trent.

Fjord is still coming to terms with his feelings for Jester, and the feelings are definitely real, but there’s a lot of timing that he’s considering and he also wants to figure out what the relationship is like outside of constant tension and battle. Fjord is also having trouble figuring out how to exercise the ability to display affection as well since he’s never received them, and is feeling out how to give and receive them. “It’s fine now, because he’s feeling it, but once you say it out loud, or once you come to a point where you make it known to the other side, then what happens? It might be ruined. It might be broken. Or it might not be!” The moment with the porcelain unicorn was too good not to try. Travis also sighs that he’s not a romance D&D guy, “but now I am! Fuckin’ Laura Bailey!” He’s definitely feeling it out and will see how it unfolds in the game.

If Jester hadn’t let go of the Traveler, Fjord would have either attacked the Traveler or the Moonweaver and tried to kick them both off.

Sam doesn’t think the Traveler’s realized yet what a dick he is. Brian thinks it may not happen in this campaign, but agrees the full weight of what he deserves hasn’t been felt yet. Travis: “Yeah, he came to the edge, but it didn’t cost him anything.” Brian: “Yeah, he’s a real edgelord.”

Fanart of the Week! a beautiful portrait of Molly in the snow by @claygryphon on twitter.

Veth acknowledges that they work for shady people with shady pasts, so Vess DeRogna isn’t her first rodeo, but this time it’s personal. It’s Jaws 2: Electric Boogaloo. Sam can’t commit to actual actions, since Vess is like level 20 or something, but “I will get some kinda revenge. Be it petty or significant, I will get revenge.”

How are they feeling about being in Eiselcross? They’ve only just landed, so not sure yet. The cold is intimidating. They’re excited to explore a new island that’s part of Wildemount, especially with the river of lava running through it. “It’s icy with lava? Sounds like a Dairy Queen.”

There’s still a ton of unknowns regarding the Tombtakers, Vess, the nature of their job, and who’s here on whose orders. They’re excited to see how it’s all going to play out. Travis laughs that he doesn’t take notes, he’s just here to fight things. It just washes over him when Matt starts talking about names and places. “It’ll reveal itself in time. [...] I don’t write those notes down. I don’t even know how to spell it off the bat.” I have never identified more with Travis. Sam actually does pay attention and take notes and was really impressed by Marisha’s dive.

Veth became interested in branding her own spellcraft as soon as she saw Caleb doing it. “That’s what the influencer agents are gonna be looking at. It would be nice to leave the world better than we found it, but also with some branded spells.”

What were Fjord’s thoughts on dropping so much money on the ring & the Ioun stone? It wasn’t about money for Fjord, it was about a cool thing to acquire. It’s why he saves money in his campaign. Caleb needs “as much of a flak jacket as he can get.” He also REJECTS the idea of buyer’s remorse on the ring and touts the effectiveness it’ll have on the lava river.

Travis talks about his old coins - a 340AD coin he bought at a ren faire and a 120BC coin that was a gift from a friend.

Sam marvels at the love and thought that Caleb put into the tower. Sam points out they forgot to go to the top two floors altogether. Travis: “Did the mansion get as much careful planning from Scanlan as the tower did from Caleb?” Sam: Absolutely not. But they were still thinking small in C1, figuring out how things went, and they didn’t have as much detail in their heads yet.

And that’s all the time we have for tonight! We end on everyone whispering way too close into their mics and tapping fingernails on mason jars. A fitting end to this crazy episode, I think.

Is it Thursday yet?

#talks machina #talks machina spoilers #critical role #critical role spoilers #long post for ts

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buckttommy · 3 years

Text

also on ao3

post buck begins, because we all need some therapy after that episode

summary:

"In the moment, Eddie is grace incarnate. In the moment, he is Ares on the battlefield, calm and measured, steady and sure. But when the moment passes—when Buck steps out of the truck, healthy and whole, if not entirely happy, when he ascends those stairs to meet with his parents—it's like all Eddie’s cords have been snapped, like all the fight is being drained from his veins, Hera sitting on Mount Olympus telling him to lay down his sword and come rest."

or; this fic is directly inspired by eddie's heart eyes in the last few minutes of Buck Begins

It's only after everything calms down that he starts shaking.

He's used to it by now—the crash of overwhelming emotion that rocks him damn near off his feet every time something happens. He's used to it, but that doesn't make it any easier. Chris is at Abuela's tonight, not around to see his father shake apart like a leaf. All for the best, he knows. Eddie’s trying to be more open with his feelings, create an atmosphere of vulnerability with his son, but some things he needs to do on his own.

The shaking starts in his hands. Hands that took up position on that rope at Buck’s back, hands that came alongside Buck when he needed them the most.

What would have happened if they'd gotten there just a second too late? What would they have found?

Eddie makes it a habit not to think like that, can't think like that for his own sanity. There’s always a nightmare waiting to unfold when he lets his mind wander, so he lets himself move on.

They got to Buck, that's all that matters.

He pulls a beer from the fridge, drops down at his kitchen table and rests his forehead on the cool surface.

He's used to this too— the incessant replay, the home movie that only he can see where every moment, every action, every word rewinds and repeats over and over again. Eddie watches it all, everything from yesterday afternoon up until the point where they all went home after shift. He watches himself watch everything unfold around him, dazed, as if it all happened to someone else.

He'd come so close to losing everything last night. Maybe that's why he's having such a hard time letting the panic and fear go. He'd come so close to losing Buck—not physically, of course; they were never going to let him go down alone, all of them or none of them is the deal—but if Buck hadn't been able to save Saleh, he would have lost him for good. He knows it like he knows his own name.

For two weeks, Buck has been spiraling, circling the drain of self-doubt, and worthlessness, and achingly deep loneliness. For two weeks, he's watched Buck withdraw into himself, watched those bright eyes grow dimmer and dimmer. Watched that mouth grow tighter and tighter, and he hasn't been able to do a damn thing about it.

Eddie's never been good at feeling helpless. He's never been the waiting room type, never been the one to sit this one out, son, let someone else handle it. He's a doer, always has been; a fixer when no one else can or will step up to the plate, and watching Buck suffer this week—for there really is no other word for it, it's suffering, plain and simple—has been like asking him to neglect the most crucial part of himself, asking him to bury the one thing that makes him Edmundo Diaz.

His hands ached with the need to crawl inside Buck and hammer away everything that was broken, to sew together everything that needed to be patched, and each time that ache threatened to overwhelm him, it was like being met with a wall every time. Even though Buck has been more open with him these last few weeks than he has ever been, coming to his house and simply letting himself find healing in Eddie’s home, it was very clear that what he was going through was something Eddie couldn't fix, and Eddie didn't even have the courage to do what he wanted to do which was to wrap Buck in his arms and hold him through it.

And so remained his hands at his sides, useless useless useless up until the point when he needed them the most. Up until Buck needed him the most.

Because that's what he does, right? That's what they do for each other. Show up at the last second, what, you didn’t think I'd let you have fun all on your own, did you?

His hands are a love language of their own and they tell the story of his love far better than any sonnet he writes ever could.

Eddie raises his head and takes a sip of his beer, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before letting it glide down his throat.

His heart gallops in his chest. Always such a delayed reaction. When he was in the moment, he felt calm. Serene, even, because fighting fire, saving the day—this was something he could do.

Walk into the gates of hell for Buck? He could do that.

Hold onto that lifeline and pull his boy back from wherever he was falling? He could do that too.

In the moment, Eddie is grace incarnate. In the moment, he is Ares on the battlefield, calm and measured, steady and sure. But when the moment passes—when Buck steps out of the truck, healthy and whole, if not entirely happy, when he ascends those stairs to meet with his parents—it's like all Eddie’s cords have been snapped, like all the fight is being drained from his veins, Hera sitting on Mount Olympus telling him to lay down his sword and come rest.

He'd hurried through his shower, hurried out of the parking lot, pulled into a Target parking lot and tried to breathe for the first time in twenty-four hours.

He still feels like he hasn't quite caught his breath.

A key turns in the front door. The familiar sound of boots walking across the floor, the sound of a chair being pulled out beside him.

Buck sits down and takes his hand in both of his, wrapping long fingers around his, practically swallowing his hand whole.

"You're shaking," he says after a moment.

"Yeah." Eddie doesn't lift his head. "Happens."

"Hm." Buck doesn't let go. He doesn't say anything more either. Eddie feels the beer bottle slide through his fingers, condensation left dripping from his skin as Buck takes a sip.

"Can you look at me?" Buck finally asks.

Eddie looks up. Buck is already staring holes into him, eyes warm and soft in a way that shouldn't be reserved for him, but somehow is.

"I never got to thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Eddie replies automatically. "It's our job, it's what we do."

But that's not what Buck is thanking him for and they both know it. Buck doesn't let go of his hand; he strokes the back with his thumb, tracing light circles that make Eddie want to do something stupid like run away. Or cry.

"You know," Buck says quietly, "I don't think I could have made it through their visit without you. You... you were everything these past two weeks."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did. You—” Buck cuts himself off with a laugh. It’s at that moment Eddie realizes Buck is wearing one of his hoodies. Buck continues, laying his previous train of thought to rest. "I've got a lot to learn about a lot of things, Eddie. I've got a lot to learn about... love. And the people who love me, the way they love me. I've got a lot to learn about accepting it."

The fact that he's talking about this is a victory alone. Eddie is so proud of him, his skin feels thin with the enormity of it all. He's sure his pride is bleeding from his pores.

"You'll figure it all out," he says. It's true even if it's not quite what he wants to say. Emotional come down is a bitch; he couldn't put the words together even if he wanted to.

Buck laughs, soft, his face reddening. "Yeah, I will. But I say all that because…” He takes a deep breath. “I say all that because I'm realizing some things about myself. And I'm realizing some things about you. And I'm realizing some things about us."

Of course Buck would be the first one to say it; of course he'd give voice to the thing they've been dancing around for almost a year now.

"I don't want you to run away." Buck whispers.

Eddie doesn't even realize he's tried to pull his hand away until Buck's fingers tighten. Not hard that he couldn’t break out of it, still so gentle even now, but enough to let him know that he doesn't want him to leave.

"What do you want then?"

Whatever he wants is his, doesn't Buck see that? How could he not?

Buck shrugs. "What I want is to love you, properly, the way you deserve to be loved. What I want is to be in Chris’s life for as long as I live. What I want is to hear you say you love me and believe it, to not doubt it for a single second."

The war of emotions flooding through Eddie's veins right now. Maybe this conversation is a battlefield of its own. Only instead of being Ares, he is the blood on the blade, the chest on the other end of the sword, carved open from top to bottom.

"But you're not ready yet," he finishes for Buck.

"I'm not ready yet,” Buck confirms. “But neither are you."

The words are delivered so kindly that Eddie almost misses the fact that they reach right inside him and wring him dry. He wants to flinch away from the truth of it, from the knowing. For a brief moment, he wants to go back in time to when Buck was some insecure, intimidated asshole and he was the newbie firefighter and there wasn't this much intimate knowledge permeating the air between them. For a brief moment, he wants that wall back between them so all his private, tender spots can be kept safe.

When he was seven, his parents used to force him to sit through Sunday School at Mass and listen to the teacher talk all about the impenetrable walls of Jericho and how all it took was an act of faith to knock them down. At the time, he'd thought it silly, in the way kids think the most profound things are found in animated movies and badgering their parents with incessant questions.

But there's truth to that now, he realizes, because it takes all his faith to sit in this chair, to look Buck in the eyes, to be seen in return, and to know that, whatever Buck sees he's not going to run away.

It takes faith to be known, to knock against his walls until they're nothing but dusty piles of rubble and ivory.

He doesn't deny Buck’s statement, doesn't deny the truth of everything Buck sees.

There's no denying a reflection in a mirror, anyway.

"Tell me what you want, Buck."

Buck sighs. He brings Eddie's hand up to his mouth, kisses every knuckle. Belatedly, Eddie realized that at some point he stopped shaking. He only notices because he's started again, and this time, it has nothing to do with fear.

"I want to know that we're a sure thing. And that when—" he punctuates this statement with another kiss, this time to the palm of Eddie’s hand, "—we come together, we make it last forever. That's what I want. But we’re not ready"

Buck sets his hand down just as gently as picked it up and sits back in his chair.

Inexplicably, Eddie feels his throat tighten. He could flip through every single page in the dictionary and still not be able to find a word to describe how he's feeling.

“No. We’re not.” His voice is hoarse when he says, "But I'll be here. For when we are."

Buck shrugs again. "I know." Easy, like he’s never doubted it. That, of all the things he struggles with, of all his disbelief in the people he loves, that is the one thing he is sure of—Eddie's unwavering, steadying presence in his life. His love for him, no matter what form it takes.

"I have a date," he says randomly. Buck looks at him curiously. "The teacher from Christopher's school. Ana."

He watches Buck mouth the name, feel the weight of it on his tongue. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath until Buck nods, but he catches it again when Buck says, "I do too. Not with Ana, of course, but. Another firefighter. Someone from the 221."

Eddie considers that for a moment. This feels like a break-up, only there’s nothing to break. If anything, it’s the promise of more, the delaying of the inevitable so that they know for sure they won’t break themselves apart when it is time. And yet, the thought of this pseudo-loss of this sits wrongly in his stomach. Eddie considers the idea of someone putting their hands on Buck’s waist, their mouth on Buck’s neck. It doesn’t hurt but it’s not pleasant either.

He stares out the window. Rain spatters and rolls down the windowpane.

“Why does this feel like this?” he wonders aloud.

It’s so vague, hardly even a question, but Buck seems to understand. Of course he understands.

“Hey.” Buck’s voice, the earnestness in it, draws Eddie’s eyes back to his face. “We’ll get there. You and me are always going to be you and me . We’re a team, and I’m not going anywhere, Eds. We’re not done yet. We’re just…”

Buck runs out of words, but that’s okay, he doesn’t need to finish. Eddie gets it anyway.

“I love you,” he says, because it’s true, in all the ways. And because Buck needs to hear it, and because he needs to say it before he loses his nerve.

Buck’s face does something complicated. “I love you too.”

Buck rises to his feet. He stretches, all the knobs and joints in his body popping. In his peripheral vision, Eddie can see the cloth of his hoodie ride up, the jut of Buck’s hips on display. The pang of that not-quite-loss hits him all over again, but it’s duller this time.

Buck is right. They’ll always be a team, always be them , but if they’re going to be more, they both need to be a lot healthier than they are, a lot stronger in themselves before they tie themselves to one another. Because it’s not just going to be them in the mix either; it’s going to be Chris, it’s going to be their families, it’s going to be the team at the fire station who will depend on them being a cohesive unit. They need to discover who they are before they become a pair, because once they fuse together, there’s no going back. Only forward, come what may.

Not yet, but eventually.

Buck jingles his keys in his pocket. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Eddie looks up at that beautiful face and those gorgeous eyes. He’s had it all wrong, he’s not losing this at all, he’s gaining it. Maybe not today, but some day. There’s a promise in Buck’s eyes, one he knows is reflected in his own, and the last ache of that pseudo-loss fades away to nothingness.

He nods. “Okay.”

Buck’s mouth turns up into a sweet smile. Not kissing him right then and there is both agony and relief. Buck lets himself out, leaving Eddie to stare after him, the smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

No, not yet.

But soon.

#pretty sunshine boy #evan buckley #eddie x buck #buddie #buck begins #tv: 911 #spoilers //#my fic #jack.txt #This fic practically wrote itself I'm not gonna lie #I banged it out in like an hour and half (including edits)#100

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avnkin · 4 years

Text

THE BET ( jj maybank. )

Chapter 8 - Intoxicating

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of sex, foul language, alcohol & the usual dash of angst

author’s note: it’s been a while but i’m getting my inspo back finally lmao hope you enjoy this chapter gif is by @heapass also veins oml

series masterlist

You and JJ hadn’t spoken a word to each other after what had happened. You’d just laid silently in his bed, listening to each other’s heavy breaths as you got your heartbeat to slow down from your previous endeavours.

“So what does this mean?” JJ was the first to break the silence as he rolled over to look up at you.

“Uh- i’m not sure, do you want this to mean something?” you hesitantly asked moving down a little so you were at eye level with each other.

“Yeah I do, but I think I may need some time to get over you and Rafe- I just can’t get the image of you two together out of my head”

That sentence made your blood boil, even if you wanted to get back together you weren’t about to let him blame you for everything that went wrong in your relationship.

“JJ are you being serious right now? It’s not like I cheated on you, we were broken up when I kissed Rafe!” you chided getting out of the bed, covering your naked body with his bed sheets.

“I don’t care and I wouldn’t have minded it as much if it had been anyone but Rafe! He’s made all of our lives living hells for the last year- I mean he nearly cost Pope his job! So it’s not because you made out with someone it’s who it was with!” JJ snapped back getting out of bed after you, quickly pulling on his boxers.

“You’re such an asshole! I don’t even know how I thought of getting back together with you!” you retorted hastily walking around the room in an attempt to find your clothes.

Once you finally managed to get fully dressed you went to unlock the door but JJ pulled you back before you could leave.

You quickly snatched your hand out of his grasp not giving him a chance to talk “give me a call once you’ve decided to stop being a self absorbed asshole” you grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut in his face.

You stormed out of the chateau still adjusting your clothes, when Kiara pulled into the driveway with Pope and John B, perfect timing.

“Hey-“ Pope started but was cut off by you crashing into his shoulder as you stormed past your three clueless friends.

“What was that about” Pope questioned turning to Kiara and John B who stood there, bewildered at your sudden outburst.

“Fuck” Kiara mumbled once she remembered the reason you’d been here in the first place, practically running into the chateau to find JJ.

“What the hell happened!?” Kiara shrieked as she pushed open the door into JJ’s room who just shook his head and let himself fall down onto his mattress.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he shrugged her off not bothering to look up at her.

“Don’t give me that bullshit JJ, I drove Y/N here earlier so you two could make up and then I see her practically crying running out of here so what happened!”

“It didn’t work out alright! We’re not getting back together and we’re not gonna be friends again, okay!?”

“was that your decision or hers?” Kiara countered.

“Hers! or- I mean I just told her that it would take time to get over the thing with Rafe and she just lost it!”

“JJ are you kidding me? You dated her for a bet and she was able to forgive you for that and you’ve got the audacity to be mad at her for something she did when you were broken up! Come on JJ you’re better than that”

“But its Rafe-“ Kiara quickly cut him off.

“I know! Do you think I like the fact she chose him of all guys to be with? But she was hurting because she thought that the guy she really wanted was only with her for money, you both need to sort your shit out because this is getting really tiring for all of us” she spoke gesturing towards her, Pope and John B who stood in silence behind her clearly taken aback by her words.

JJ scoffed not bothering to respond simply pulling a shirt over his head and walking past the three pogues towards the front door.

“You’re just gonna leave?” Kiara chided following after him “yeah I am” he replied coldly before slamming the door shut in her face.

Tears were furiously running down your cheeks as you walked the road down the cut that lead to figure 8.

Deciding to walk home maybe hadn’t been the brightest idea you had, it was so hot you thought you were going to pass out but you refused to spend another minute with JJ.

A sudden honk from behind you made you jerk around, only picking up your pace when you saw Wards all to familiar jet black Range Rover, not needing to guess twice as to who was sat in the drivers seat.

“Y/N?” Rafe leaned out the window as he pressed on the break just enough so he was able to drive alongside you.

“Go away” you replied curtly beginning to walk even faster although you knew your chances of outrunning a car were not in your favor.

“Come on Y/N let me drive you home you’re gonna melt out here in this heat” he sounded sincere his eyebrows contorting, silently begging for you to get into the car.

You came to an abrupt halt as you turned to face him arm crossed over your chest. You had two options one walk home in the burning heat which would probably take you around two hours or get into the car with Rafe and have to endure his company for 10 minutes.

You went with the latter huffing before pulling the door handle and getting into the car without a word, although you couldn’t contain the moan that slipped past your lips once the cool air from the AC met your flaming skin.

“Y/N I just wanted to-“ he began but you cut him off raising your index finger towards his face “stop I don’t wanna hear it just drive me home” he nodded obviously disappointed but kept on driving either way.

Once you pulled into your driveway he gave you one last pleading look but you didn’t give him a chance to talk muttering a small thanks before slipping out of the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut in his face.

You were in desparate need of a shower your sweaty skin beginning to stick to the shirt that loosely hung over your body.

You decided to push all thoughts of JJ into the back of your mind as you turned the shower on wanting nothing more than to take back the fact that you’d gone and slept with him.

“Idiot” you mumbled shaking your head the warm water travelling down your body the only comfort you felt you needed right now.

Just as you began to feel the corner of your eyes brim with tears you were startled to hear the bathroom door open.

“What the hell!” you shrieked once you saw Kiara walk in with a large purple backpack slung over her shoulder.

“That door was locked!” you yelled hurriedly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself.

“I know that’s why I have a knife” she deadpanned before placing the silver object she’d obviously stolen from your kitchen on the bathroom counter.

“What do you want Kie?” you huffed finally stepping fully out of the shower and onto the white tiled floor.

“You, me” she lifted up the backpack she’d been holding “and our dear friend vodka”

“I love you” you gushed grabbing the bag out of her hands and walking into your bedroom gently placing it on your bed.

“What’s the occasion?” you turned to face her “the occasion is a party down at the cut” she smiled sitting down on your bed unzipping the bag revealing the numerous amount of white claws and the huge bottle of vodka.

“God are you trying to kill me? you know i’m a lightweight” you gaped at the numerous beverages but still grabbed a white claw quickly opening it and taking a large sip.

“Who said any of this was for you” she raised an eyebrow an amused smile playing at her lips “shut up” you laughed.

“You owe me this whole thing is your fault” you took another sip out of the can before it was harshly ripped away from you the liquid spilling all over your arm.

“Oh so it’s my fault you hooked up with Rafe” Kiara placed a hand on her hip as she held the white claw up with her other hand.

“No” you snatched the drink back before continuing “it’s your fault that I went to JJ’s which ultimately led to the decision of me sleeping with him and making a complete fool of myself in the progress”

“Fair enough” she surrendered “get ready we need to be down at the beach in half an hour”

Once you’d made it down to the beach you’d already downed four white claws and three shots the alcohol running through your veins making you feel dizzy as you walked alongside Kie towards the crowd of teenagers all packed together around the keg watching as a girl you didn’t recognised stood in a handstand downing the beer without a struggle.

“I could do that” you slurred Kiara’s head turning in the direction you were looking “no you couldn’t” she chuckled dragging you towards John B and Pope who looked beyond shocked to see you.

“Y/N?” John B looked almost panicked as he abruptly stood up his eyes frantically beginning to dart all over the beach before stopping and widening as he looked at something behind you.

You turned to where his eyes were directed and you were horrified at the sight before you. There he was none other than JJ Maybank himself with his tongue shoved down some girls throat.

“That asshole!” you practically growled throwing the white claw you held down onto the sand as you made a bee line towards him, Kiara frantically picking up the can before following after you.

“Real classy J” you sneered a scowl resting on your face as you gave him the most disgusted look you could muster.

“Y/N” was all he said as he turned to face you, he didn’t even look sorry.

“So this is your way of trying to repair our relationship” you shot at him and the girl quickly stood up practically running away from the scene unfolding before her.

“Hey i’m just doing what you’ve been doing all along” he replied curtly standing up to face you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean JJ” you were surprised at your ability to form a whole sentence since you didn’t exactly see straight, but this whole exchange seemed to be sobering you up.

“I saw you earlier getting into that car with Rafe!”

“What? you were following me?”

“Yes! Because I wanted to come and apologise for how I acted but clearly I was right all along!”

“JJ I didn’t ask him for a ride or call him he offered and I accepted because because I didn’t really feel like walking all the way from the cut back home in the burning heat!” a hint of regret washed over his face at your words but you continued “It doesn’t even matter I don’t have to explain myself to you”

He was about to open his mouth and say something but you didn’t give him the chance. “We’re over and this time I mean it”

You suddenly became more aware of the crowd that had begun to gather around you and you quickly turned around pushing your way past the teenagers that were huddled behind you.

“Are you okay?” a frantic voice belonging to Kiara sounded from beside you.

You swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in your throat and turned to face her pasting on a fake smile as you did.

“I’m fine” you knew she didn’t buy it but she could tell from the look in your eyes that you were silently begging her not to press on it any further, you wanted to have fun tonight and you were not going to let JJ get in the way of that.

“Come on let’s get drunk”

#outer banks #jj maybank #john b imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #outer banks netflix #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #kiara carrera #pope heyward imagine #pope heyward #rafe cameron imagine

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thesolotomyhan · 4 years

Text

narcos méxico: jealousy hc

my first request, kinda nervous but i hope i delivered anon 💕

Warnings: NSFW!

Tags: @fandomnerd16 , @visintaes , @sheeshgivemeabreak

ok wow is this bitch long, i didnt realize that, i got carried away lmao,,, just a friendly heads up :))) and also, I went with them being your ex in both scenarios!

Miguel:

miguel angel would be the obsessive ex, holy shit, he would have eyes everywhere on you,,,

he would get to know your schedule at a day to day basis-

like he would have azul out here keeping him updated about your whereabouts, like what you’ve been doing, who you’ve been seen talking to, weekly, like clockwork,,

but i can lowkey see azul not telling miguel a single fucking hint that you may have been seen talking to some guy-

like azul just wants to have miguel focus on the business in front of them not worrying about you because miguel was the one to drive you out of the relationship,, its his own fault for letting you go, now its on him to gain you back on his own,

wow ok, so i can see this happening when miguel throws a fancy gathering with all those governments and high powered people,, where he would invite you to come celebrate his success in who knows what,,, but he just needs to make sure you come,, he wants to try and rekindle what you had, porque te extraña-

he’ll be nervous like that time before his birthday party in s2 where he was pacing back and forth, anxious to know if pacho was going to show up, yeah that would be him right now,,, asking azul every minute if he for sure knows if youre going to show up otherwise why even throw the party if youre not coming-

i cant- miguel probably wouldnt even go down where the party is,

he’s holing himself up somewhere until azul comes and tells him that you finally showed up-

this man would be so desperate to see you that he doesnt even let azul finish his sentence before he’s already bolting down to look for you,

and as soon as he sees you walking in he would act like all cool all of a sudden, shaking hands with people along the way, smile shining brighter than ever, but damn does that smile not last long once he glances back to you where he sees that you brought a date-

Im dying just imagining the dark look he would have when he sees your date lean in to kiss your cheek, leading you to sit down-

just the way he’ll watch you like a hawk throughout the night, clenching his jaw with the biggest scowl on his face

gripping his drink so hard it looks like he’ll break it any second as he curses under his breath, when he sees your date kiss your hand from across the table-

THE CHALLENGING GAZE HE’LL GIVE YOU WHEN YOU MAKE EYECONTACT HAS ME WEAK-

shaking his head as he starts to get up when you look away,,, like he’s officially done sitting around all night because your his mujer y de nadie mas

just the way he’ll walk up to your table so confidently, acting like this dude doesnt even exist and ask for you to accompany him for an issue he needs your input with,

not sparing one glance to your date before he has his hand wrapped around your arm, dragging you to this empty hallway-

i- the way he’ll trap you against the wall when you protest against his hold as he grabs your jaw tightly so he can look at you directly, both of your faces nearly touching-

“basta, ya,, que traes con ese cabron eh, mija?”

and you’re not about to take his shit just because he got jealous the very second he saw you with someone else after he was the one to push you away-

“Que chingados te importa miguel, tu fuiste el que ya no quiso nada conmigo”

“es que no entiendes, verdad?, me arde verte con otro cabron”-

i-the way he cant help but cut you off when he sees you open your mouth again, ready to shoot another comment at him, just to roughly kiss you, shutting you up,,-

its one of those kisses that have you both almost suffocating each other,, all the built up anger mixing in with both of your love for one another that your both too stubborn to admit,,

fuck, ok the way you dont feel his hand sneak in between your thighs until he unexpectedly already has one of his fingers inside of you-

your muffled whine swallowed by his desperate kisses to keep you quiet as you grip his arm to keep you somewhat stable on your legs-

“Ese pendejo no te puede hacer sentir bien como yo puedo mija.”

just, the way your hips involuntarily begin to move against his hand, biting your lip so hard your almost drawing blood from them as he forces you to keep looking at him, pumping his fingers into you repeatedly, adding his thumb to play with your stimulated clit-

“Imagínate, si ese cabron te ve así, de como nunca serás de el”

wow,ok, he wont stop until he has your knees buckling, pulling him into you to silence your moans when he makes you cum, i-

him kissing your forehead, telling you he’s taking you home to remind you who you belong to as he leads your wobbling form out, MAKING SURE TO GIVE YOUR DATE A SMUG ASS SMILE WHEN HE LEAVES WITH YOU- lmao i cant

god, him making you look into the mirror as he fucks you as he roams his hands all over your body, telling you that you’ll always belong to him, as your hands grip his hair- ok

celoso miguel would have you on the verge of tears as he pounds you into the bed-

just making you into a blubbering mess, not giving you a single chance to breathe before he’s already thrusting deeply into you again,,

reminding you again and again that no one other than him can have you like this-

making you scream who you belong to all fucking night until he knows you’ll be sore everywhere in the morning- i, wow

Amado:

alright, so i can see amado being the ex that would act like you were just a fun pastime for him when in reality he’s depressed porque te perdio-

I’m imagining this happening very shortly after you two are broken up, because ustedes todavía son pajaritos enamorados

Amado’s stupid ass probably just said something like “your safety is the most important thing to me, that’s why I’m breaking up with you, to keep you safe” type of beat-

but i just know he would be the mf to be like, i need to forget about the love of my life by fucking with other viejas, just trying his best to forget everything about you,,

but you would probably catch wind of this some way,,, and that he’s out here being a mujeriego and acting like nothing ever happened between you two was real so your just like ‘alright, if that’s how its going to be, two can play at this game’-

im H o l l e r in g, i can imagine this scenario where he would take some vieja to a club, maybe a club he used to go with you all the time-the audacity-

he would be out here smiling, buying drinks left and right, all laid back, like a cocky mf,,, hiding his insecurities because he’s egoistic like that, trying but failing to “enjoy” his date because its just not you

thats when just out of curiosity, he would look around the club, entertaining himself,, scanning everyone there and would automatically fucking spot you within seconds,,, except youre not alone :)) your dancing with some guy,-

and that one simple thing, that youre dancing with someone else, someone that’s not him, touching you like that, has him pissed,

like all of a sudden his only focus would be all on you,, as he’s clenching his jaw and bouncing his leg impatiently,, watching you and your date dance,, as he curses under his breath at the scene unfolding before him-

can you imagine tho, if you both lock eyes- con una mirada he’s telling you “are you fucking serious?”

wow, the way he’ll bring his clenched fist to his lips, wanting nothing more than to knock the shit out of the bum of your date, as he stares daggers into him,,-

he would wait until he can corner you alone tho, not wanting to start any drama-

he would get up so fucking quick when he sees you start to walk over to the bar, esta desesperado el cabron,, not wasting time to grab your arm and drag you somewhere, away from everyones eyes-

youre already angrily trying to pull away from his hold before he grasps both of your arms and holds them in between your bodies, stopping you from pulling away as he pulls your body into his,,

both of your fiery gazes looking into each other-

“Me quieres decir quién es ese hijo de la chingada para ir a matarlo ahorita?”

WOw, the way you test him with a simple look, not answering his question because you know exactly what buttons to push to get him even more irritated than he already is-

THE SEXUAL TENSION-

just, the way the both of you hold your stares, challenging the other to move first, with the only noise being the loud thumping of the music in the background-

he’ll pull your body even more closer to his, your lips almost, almost touching-

“no seas asi, mi reina, por favor, déjame enseñarte lo que él no puede darte” im not ok omg

he literally feels his heart soar when he sees you slowly nod your head-

ugh, just,, the bottled up emotions would pour out as soon as he gets you home-

it has you both tearing each others clothes off, with those messy kisses where neither of you want to pull back from, as he carries you and drops you on the bed,,

wow, the way he would groan, when he sees you naked on his bed,throbbing for you because he finally has you where you belong,,

god, is this man going to have you manhandle you all night until your begging him to stop-

just, pushing your body down and holding you there when your trying to squirm away from him, orgasm after orgasm,,,

chuckling down at you, telling you your going to take it-

like , its going to be the type of sex that has you almost ripping the whole fucking bedframe off from the overstimulation he’s giving you,

wont stop making you say that your his, forcing you to never look away from him, when he tells you i love you, over and over again-

or the way he’ll pull your head back onto the pillow when you try to bite down on his shoulder when he hits that one spot inside of you repeatedly, just, scolding you that he doesnt want you to hold back on your moans-

the CHOKING KINK, you already know it was coming,, it makes him rock hard when he wraps his hand around your throat while he’s making you scream his name,,,

the bruising grip he’ll have on your hip as he feels your nails leave streaks of red on his back as he’s buried so deep into you-

“Dime, que ese hijo de su rechingada madre nunca compara conmigo, mi amor”

rubbing your pulsating clit just to see the way you roll your eyes back, and dig your nails into his bicep- whispering the most dirtiest things into your ear-

fuck, ok but the way you both look down where you connect, moaning into each other as you watch as his cock disappear inside of you- im not sorry

just- turning you into a shaking and whimpering mess until all you can say and remember is his name by the time he’s done with you-

#narcos mexico imagine #narcos mexico imagines #miguel angel felix gallardo x reader #miguel angel felix gallardo #amado carrillo fuentes x reader #amado carrillo fuentes #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Vas Prizrak-Fifteen

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1711

Warnings: swearing, some smut if I’m feeling frisky, tiny bits of fluff, and a whole lot of angst.

Summary: Bucky and Reader’s life in Wakanda had been everything they ever wanted. But when they are told about the fight that was on it’s way to them, they fear that life would be dusted away for good.

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE! Here comes the big fight scene! I’m sorry if it sucks, I’m terrible at writing fight scenes ha. As always, enjoy! This will be the last chapter for tonight. It’s getting real late!

TAGS: @mggpleasedontlookhere @grey-force-jedi @austynparksandpizza @lovelyladymayyy

“Y/N?”

“Doll, you have to wake up.”

“Come on love, you have to get up.

“GET UP, Y/N!”

My eyes snapped open with a sudden alert, fire shooting from my hands towards the man that loomed over me.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Steve.” He grabbed my hands, allowing me to calm my fear for a moment.

The pain had set in, deep into my bones, so I let Steve gently pull me to my feet. Our former home that was the Avengers compound laid at our feet in a pile of rubble.

“Are you okay?” Steve questioned as he gave me a quick once over.

“Besides the splitting headache, I’m fine. What happened?”

He looked around, confused, before shaking his head.

“I don’t know.” He answered.

“When you mess with time, it tends to mess back.” Tony said coming behind us. “C’mon, you’ll see.”

He motioned towards the edge of the makeshift cliff made from the debris where Thor stood, staring down at something below. A gasp of horror fell from my lips when I saw what our current situation was; a large space ship floated idly in the sky and someone we never thought we would have to face again.

Thanos sat waiting for something, possibly a fight.

“How can this be? You killed him,” I mentioned to Thor.

“I have no idea,” he shook his head, equally confused as the rest of us.

“Where are all the stones?” Steve asked.

“Somewhere under all of this.”

I nodded. “Good, let’s keep it that way.”

“It’s probably a trap, right?” Thor stated.

“I don’t much care,” Tony shrugged.

Thor called Mjolnir and Storm breaker, lighting striking down around us, while I let the fire burn warm to my fingertips, the flames dancing in sync with the wind. Over the years, I mastered being able to let the fire burn without burning myself or extinguishing on its own. I had also mastered a few other tricks with my flames, others that no one had seen yet.

But they were about too.

“Let’s go kill this son of a bitch again. Properly this time,” I fumed while adjusting my mask.

The strands of my hair had turned to flames, framing my face with a warm sensation. My feet had ascended from the ground, the flames from my hands keeping me up in the air as I floated with the wind.

“What the hell,” Steve muttered, astonished at what he had just witnessed.

“I see you’ve been practicing.”

The familiar voice brought a smirk to my lips before I gave Steve my attention once more.

“What, this?” I motioned to myself. “Pft, I’ve been doing this for years.

While they walked their way down to Thanos, I flew above them, keeping a close distance in case they needed help.

“You couldn’t live with your own failure,” Thanos chuckled towards us.

It was a dark chuckle that made your skin crawl in disgust.

His speech had fallen on deaf ears as I took in the surroundings. Half of our team was missing, unsure where they had ended up after the blast. It was only us four against Thanos, surly we could handle it on our own.

Thor’s battle cry gained my attention and within seconds we were all fighting against Thanos.

Flames shot through my hands, blasting Thanos back against a large pile of debris, and once my feet touched down onto the dirt I cocked my head towards him. The urge to kill filled me to my core.

“You took everything from me,” I fumed.

Thanos stood, towering over me. “I don’t even know who you are.”

It was my turn to let out a deep chuckle.

“Trust me, you will.”

Raising my hands above me, I manipulated the flames making them grab a large piece of metal and threw it into Thanos’ face. A small trail of blood pooled from his forehead.

“All that for a drop of blood,” he mused.

“We’re just getting started,” I promised.

We were all fighting him again, Steve tossing me his shield every once in a while to get a few good shots with it. With my flames and Tony’s beams, we held him back so Thor could smack him far away from us with his hammer.

“So kid, any other new tricks you want to show us?” Tony jeered when we had a moment of peace.

“A few,” I gave a quick wink.

Moments passed, Thanos getting the upper hand on us, and with the three men scattered far away from me, I knew I was on my own until they could gain their strength once more.

My body flew through the air towards Thanos, however, he had caught my foot and yanked me down to the ground. He grounded my body with several punches to the face and stomach, the taste of copper pooling in my mouth. He raised his large double sword above me, inches away from my chest.

“What a pathetic excuse for a human life,” he spat.

Pupils dilated, I stared up at him with horrendous fear for my life. Thanos was seconds away from ending it all before I even knew if our mission had worked; if Bucky had come home.

“I didn’t train you to give up so easily.”

The cool metal from Thanos’ sword pressed deep into my stomach, causing a high pitched banshee scream to erupt from my throat. It did absolutely nothing to phase him.

Suddenly, he had been smacked away from me and I saw Thor’s hammer flying through the wind. Only it never reached Thor’s hand. It reached someone else entirely.

Steve stood proudly with his shield in one hand and Mjolnir in the other.

“What the fuck,” I cursed.

Thor’s voice came through our coms. “I knew it. I knew he was worthy.”

Winding up the hammer, Steve ran towards Thanos and connected with his face, sending Thanos flying hundred of feet behind us. With the quick break we had, Steve slowly helped me to my feet and winced at the open wound on my stomach.

“Doll,” he breathed.

“You guys wanted to see all my new tricks,” I pushed his fingers away from the wound on my stomach.

With flames from my left hand, I placed it over my wound and let out a large hiss as the fire cauterized the wound closed. Even with my super healing, it would have taken a long while for that wound to heal.

“Enough about me though,” I nodded towards the hammer in his hand. “When the fuck did that happen?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak however a yell came out of mine when I felt Thanos attack me from behind, sending me far away from Steve. My body collided hard on top of a large rock and I slowly tried to sit up on my knees but the wind had been knocked out of me. The taste of blood still remained in my mouth and with a defeated groan, I rolled off of the rock onto the dirt. I could barely lift my head to finally look at Steve.

“No,” I wept with the sight that had just unfolded.

Thanos’ sword had done the unthinkable; it had broken Steve’s shield in half, pieces lying scattered around him. His body had been thrown closer to me by Thanos’ sword so I tried my best to crawl over towards him.

“C’mon, we have to get up,” I tried my best to cheer him on.

Our eyes locked and even though his blue iris’ shone with so much light, I knew he was scared. Steve was worried that this was the endgame; we wouldn’t be able to stop Thanos this time.

“What I’m about to do to your tiny little planet, I’m going to enjoy it very much,” Thanos vowed.

The sky opened above us, thousands of alien species stepping their way through their own makeshift portals.

Steve and I both helped each other to our feet, him tightening the shield so it helped stop the bleeding on the open wound on his arm. The flames crackled to life once more at my fingertips as the two of us stood tall against Thanos’ army.

“All of my training led you to this, doll. This is what you were meant to fight for.”

An annoyed sigh fell through my lips at the familiar voice speaking to my thoughts once more. Noticing the large rip in the left arm of my suit, I yanked it away, displaying my tattoo of the Soldat arm to anyone who chose to look at it.

“I love you Bucky, I really do, but now is not the time to hear your ghost voice in my head again,” I grumbled to myself.

“Who said anything about a ghost voice?”

“What?” I uttered.

“Hey cap, you read me?”

Steve and I both looked at one another, dumbfounded at the voice we both heard now on our coms.

“It’s Sam. On your left.”

Suddenly, hundreds of bright yellow circles appeared in the sky, sparking to life around us. There was one circle, however, that we had our eyes trained hard on right in front of us. There was a sense of warmth, familiarity, and love that emanated from it. The type of love that I hadn’t felt in my veins in over five years.

A lone body stepped through while another flew over us and the reality smacked me hard in the face when I realized that Bucky’s voice wasn’t speaking to me in my mind like it had been all those times before. His soft voice had been coming through the com in my ear this entire fight.

Standing in front of me, in the same gear he had worn the last time I laid eyes on him, was the love of my life. The man that I had spent the last five years avenging and the man that I vowed to Natasha I would save.

“Bucky,” I breathed his name.

I wanted to believe that it was really him but also didn’t want to get my hopes up in case I was actually seeing his ghost again.

“I’ve missed you so much, dorogaya.” Bucky’s plump lips curled up into an eye crinkling smile.

#james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes and reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #soldat #dorogaya #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #captain america and reader #steve rogers #steve rogers and reader #marvel #avengers

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diningwiththeasquiths · 3 years

Text

PTSD!Poe from that one post has moved into my head and lives there rent-free now. So here's a Gingerpilot ficlet. 😏

Poe doesn't know why he'd been such a dick to his friends. Again.

He just feels so... angry and irritable all the time. Nothing he does is ever enough. And nobody seems to care as much about their cause as he does.

Still, he shouldn't have snapped at Rey like that.

She and Finn have been steering clear of him since the incident. It's probably been one time too many... No wonder they'd rather avoid him.

Right now it's far past midnight. He's aimlessly walking around the base, tense and restless. A few times he'd grabbed a bottle of booze from the not-so-secret stash in the Falcon, just to help him sleep. But it made him feel guilty; what if there was an emergency and he wouldn't be able to fly?

So now he's pacing around in big circles in the hope of tiring himself out.

When he walks past Hux's room for the fifth time, he notices the light is still burning. Of course Hux is still awake. Poe stops and quietly stands on his tiptoes to peer inside the dirty window of the little cot they housed him in.

Hux is sitting with his back to the window, bent over a small, rickety desk. He's taken off his jacket and Poe can count the knobs of his spine through his thin undershirt.

In a split second he's made his decision and is knocking on the glass. The sound is soft but Hux still jumps, startled. He lets him in without question though, which strengthens Poe's resolve.

He's noticed the way Hux has been looking at him ever since he joined their cause. It flatters him, really. And it's something he can use. Yeah, this will definitely help him take his mind off things for a while, and hopefully even relax him enough to fall asleep.

"Hey Hugs. Care for some company this fine evening? Don't think I haven't noticed you checking me out." Hux opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Poe talks right over him: "You totally have been! And it's fine, in fact I find it very flattering. And it makes me wonder... Would you like to have your way with me? Right now, I mean? Just say the word Hugs, and I'm yours."

Not his finest work. Thankfully, Hux doesn't seem to mind his straightforward approach.

"I don't have any... supplies," is his only reply, practical as always.

Poe curses, not in the mood to sneak all the way to the medbay for some lubricant. And he doesn't want to take ages with the preparation either. He just needs to stop feeling so much for a while.

"You've got soap here, right? Yeah, you're a clean guy. Let's use that."

It works surprisingly well. It's not long before Poe is on his knees and elbows on the bed with Hux's cock up his ass.

Hux feels good inside of him, it's not exactly painful but intense enough to distract him from everything else. Hux grips his fleshy hip tightly with one hand and pushes Poe's head down to the thin mattress with the other.

The only sounds in the room are their laboured, heavy breathing and the creaking of the narrow bed. Poe absent-mindedly hopes it won't break underneath their combined weight and movement.

He's getting close now. Supporting himself on a forearm and shoulder, Poe wraps his hand around his dick and moans into the sheets. Nearly there.

Stars it feels good. Who knew Hux could fuck like this. His thrusts are constant and precise, almost machine-like. Poe never wants it to end.

It does end, of course. Soon enough he tenses up and groans, coming all over the sheets and his fist in thick spurts. He nearly topples over. Hux is thrusting more slowly and shallowly now, probably feeling him clenching around himself.

After Poe relaxes into the aftermath of his orgasm, another wave of something makes its way through his body. It constricts his chest. Before he fully understands what is happening he is heaving with loud sobs.

Hux pulls away from him completely as soon as he realises what's going on. Were Poe to look behind him he'd see a stupefied look on Hux's face, which morphs into an uneasy frown.

Curling in on himself, Poe can't do anything else but lie there, breathing heavily with tears still streaming down his nose and stubbled cheeks. He feels completely overwhelmed all of a sudden.

After a few moments, a careful hand is placed on his back. It radiates warmth and feels somewhat grounding. A thumb strokes him ever so slightly, in an attempt to soothe. When Poe's breathing calms down a bit, Hux seems encouraged to start rubbing his back in slow circles.

Eventually Poe starts to feel more in control of himself again. His body unfolds and he lies on his side, facing the rough wooden wall. He makes no attempt to get up. He doesn't want to walk out into the night and be all alone again, but he also doesn't feel like talking or otherwise engaging with Hux. Except for touch, he likes it when Hux touches him. He just wants to lie here and accept whatever kindness Hux is willing and able to give.

Hux eventually cleans them both up a bit and maneuvers them underneath the soiled sheets. Poe gratefully lets it all happen. When Hux reaches out yet again, placing a comforting hand on his waist, Poe moves himself closer, silently encouraging Hux to wrap his arm around him. Now they're pressed together tightly, securely. Suddenly Poe feels exhausted. He exhales shakily and any remaining tension leaves his body.

They end up falling asleep just like that.

When morning comes and Poe opens his eyes, Hux is already out of bed; he's seated at his tiny desk and sips a mug of something steaming hot.

"Hey. Sorry for what happened last night," is the first thing Poe blurts out in a raspy voice.

"It happens to the best of us."

"Don't tell me you've broken down like that after sex before."

"Well. I usually hide it better."

Poe cracks a smile at that and huffs out a laugh through his nose.

Suddenly he faintly hears his own name being called. Apparently people are looking for him. His heart rate immediately shoots up. Perhaps something's happened?

"I gotta go."

"Of course," Hux says, standing up and handing him his trousers.

"I'll see you around, okay?" Poe says, whilst quickly getting dressed.

After Hux gives him an affirmative nod, Poe slips out the door. He's enjoyed his time with Hux more and on a much deeper level than he thought he would. Definitely something to explore further at a later date. If he doesn't perish in a space battle before they can meet up again, that is.

They're still calling his name. When he hurries towards the area where the sound is coming from, he can see that the people shouting are Finn and Rey. They look very relieved to see him. BB-8 rolls after them and lets out a big beep when he spots his human. He quickly zooms past Finn and Rey, and Poe crouches down to hug his droid hello. The cool, round shape feels more comforting than it has felt in a while.

"Hey... We were wondering where you were," Finn says carefully as they walk up to him.

"Just out and about," is Poe's vague answer. "Had a bit of a rough time last night," he adds, feeling like he owes them at least part of the truth.

"Yeah we figured-"

"We've been talking and thinking about ways to help you," Rey interjects, bumping into Finn's side in a familiar way. She seems as determined as always.

Poe isn't sure if there's a solution for what he's going through right now, but the fact that they care and want to help does make him feel less alone.

Of course they will always be there for him. He's got the best friends in the galaxy. And his enemy-turned-ally-turned-lover is not so bad either, apparently.

Smiling at them a bit sheepishly, he counts himself lucky and thinks that perhaps it will all be okay in the end, somehow.

#gingerpilot #poe dameron #armitage hux #dining writes #SOMEHOW... Poe's mental health has returned #lol #long post #I always fret about using a read more or not #also if I should put it on AO3

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