#I honestly probably forgot more of the bullshit this man pulled

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

wait PLEASE tell us the professor firing story im so curious

Oh man. I’d like to preface this as something I’m not… one hundred percent proud of. Or at least, not something I brag about. I’m not sad or upset that I did it, and not sure if I’d have changed anything had I the chance. The man did deserve it. But here’s the entirely too long story.

(If you see typos or other weirdness, no you don’t.)

Imagine this—it’s 2018, it’s almost your last semester of community college. It’s spring semester, it’s cold, and you just got told that for the first time, your psychology class is NOT going to be under your favorite professor (not because he quit, he just didn’t teach this one). So, you’ve already had a full day of classes. It’s your last class of the day, it’s around noon to early afternoon, and you’ve actually had lectures in this classroom before.

You go in. Some chatting students, you choose a seat in the second row, kind of far from the door but those were already taken. Time passes.

Then suddenly, dread. That gut feeling that you absolutely should leave, right now, no matter what.

A man has just walked in.

We’ll call him Stanley, because that was his fucking name, Stanley…. Hawk. I’m not protecting his name because I care, but to keep myself and my classmates more anonymous.

That was my honest to goodness first reaction to this man. We had never met. And all I could think was “PLEASE tell me this isn’t the professor”.

He was, in fact, the social psychology professor.

From the first class, there are a number of red flags. He locks the door, ‘for safety’, despite that door actually being quite close to an exit-only door. He insists we MUST email him if we are to miss class—not in an ‘inform him’ way, by how he phrased it. If he could have said that we required his permission, he would have, and he was just short of that statement. He’s kinda weird about letting us out for bathroom breaks too. And he just seems… off. And the way he wants us to contact him is NOT through email. No, he hands us business cards and asks us to CALL HIM. Anyone who has had a college class will tell you—that’s EXTREMELY fucking weird.

Still, we power through. Because maybe the gut instinct was wrong, maybe he’s just strict.

AHAHAHAHA.

No.

Throughout the months I had him, he:

-Repeated the same lessons multiple times (don’t talk to me about the prison experiment I will SCREAM).

-Mostly call on one particular non-white guy

-Not ever get this one woman’s name right, probably because she was South American. Her name wasn’t hard, it was like- Marianna, and he’d like, call her Mary-Anne or other mispronunciations

-Get MY name right despite it being more difficult, though it still took him a few times. Either cause I’m White American or because my sister worked front desk, I’m not sure

-Mispronounced most of the women’s names at least once, even easy ones—he did not do this with any of the men

-(To my knowledge, the only genderqueer person was me, and I wasn’t public about it, and CERTAINLY wasn’t telling HIM that)

-Otherwise would talk wrestling with one guy who sat behind me. During class.

-Often went on tangents unrelated to the topic

-Claimed that he would take all the confederate statues and have them in his yard, proudly. He mentioned this at LEAST three times.

-Always mentioned that some of his grandkids were adopted Asian kids but was like… weird about it, genuinely not sure how to describe it

-Once went on an entire, unprompted safety lecture, saying to “you girls” (again, college, ‘girls’ isn’t the exact term I’d use) that we should make sure to immediately lock our car doors because we always “spend time getting all settled in when you drive, with your phones and purses and makeup”. He did not say the same to the “boys”, and also—I felt more unsafe that HE’D do something than anyone else

-Semi-often bemoaned the fact he couldn’t just hug students because of policy, that he couldn’t touch them even as a friendly pat on the shoulder because they might go to the college board. No, I’m not kidding. He actually said this sort of thing. I WONDER WHY THE STUDENTS DON’T WANT YOU TOUCHING THEM.

One of the worst incidents, he mishandled our test times, saying it was due at 12 midnight (online testing). I go to do it at about 2 pm… it’s closed. It’s Friday. I email him multiple times. I had to email the DEAN OF THE DEPARTMENT to get him to even answer. Said he ‘messed up’ and that it accidentally was put at 12 noon. He then tried to blame me alone, except no—another student (we’ll say… Alexis) ALSO had the same issue. He then said next time to call him. I don’t think I said anything, but I always did assignments before 12 noon so that there would not be a ‘next time’.

Then, one day, he had us list out twenty traits. Or like, things we like to do. Something to that effect. It was personal, is the main thing.

And then share that with the class.

It felt extremely elementary, we were almost through with the school semester, and I had learned nothing. I didn’t like this teacher, he kept fumbling, and that gut feeling just kept coming back. The anxiety I felt every time he locked the door.

And I remembered a post going around, about how we are not obligated to share things we don’t want to, especially in a classroom.

So, as I take my turn, I list out some generic things about likes and dislikes.

And I say something to the tune of, “I don’t like sharing with an entire class of almost strangers about myself when I don’t even know them.”

Several people start to talk in agreement, but I just keep reading my other statements. Because no, now is not the time. We have PLANNING to do.

Sure enough, I get two main allies from this. One Alexis, who was the student that also didn’t take the test. Another is a student who had been challenging him the entire semester- we’ll call her Sarah. She’d unlock the door pretty much any time Stephen Fucking Hawk wasn’t paying attention. Sarah is the one who approached me, so while I may have been a bit of a… not quite figurehead of this because of my earlier stunt(s), Sarah is the real mastermind here.

That said, I’m not sure if we’d have come together as such had I not done that little stand up for myself in class. A stand up that was inspired by a TUMBLR POST. Like, directly inspired. Before that point, I had thought that there’s no WAY this happens, that professors expect an airing of grievances in class, to virtual strangers. Jokes on me, but continuing on.

Sarah and I start airing our grievances, and we realize we’re actually in the same sociology class as well as being in the same social psychology class (yes, I got them confused, no, I never fully got UNconfused, because while Mrs. H was a fairly good sociology teacher, Stanley Fucking Hawk was not a good social psychology teacher). We decide—next class period, after the lesson was done. we’ll talk to her. Alexis isn’t in the class, but she promises to come in straight after her other class to help.

Poor Mrs. H looked so overwhelmed.

Especially when people we hadn’t EVEN MET started chiming in about stuff we didn’t even know about. Apparently, he talked about sex things in class before? Anyways.

She promised to talk with some of the higher ups. We continued on. We had like, other priorities.

About a few days later, Stephen Fucking Hawk is called to a meeting with the Dean. I know this, because he appeared briefly to give us a worksheet to work on for half an hour until he got back. Again, ask any college student—it’s weird that this was done during class time. Or that class wasn’t called off for the day.

I decided, yeah, fuck this, do the ten billionth really dumb worksheet for this prof (also a repeat, I think, which was not a new thing with him), and in half an hour I’m leaving. My baby niece was just born. Also, no, I was not emailing him for permission. This was not a job, he was not my boss, and I’d had enough of him. Not like he checked them ANYWAYS, as proven before.

He returned, a bit late and a little frazzled. I go to turn in my worksheet and leave.

He tried to stop me, trying to cite his little attendance policy. I honest to goodness think he’d have grabbed my wrist had he been allowed, or possibly if I hadn’t dodged.

I DO remember snapping at him that I WAS leaving, I’m ALLOWED to make that choice, and I was GOING to go see my niece.

I was also in martial arts at the time. So there’s a good chance he recognized that I could and WOULD sock him in the face if he tried something.

I left. He never looked at me for long ever again. Not that he usually did—chronic bitch face worked WONDERS, and I’m understanding why so many people, women in particular, might have gotten this trait.

After that, things are… average. There was still a few weeks, about a month, left still. We figure that if anything did happen, it’ll be after exams. That’s fine. So long as something is done. Naturally, we’re kept in the dark.

Then we get our course and professor evals. Basically, papers we were given in class to grade the class and the professor, with a small section at the end to write out any additional comments. You could add more paper to that section if you wanted to.

These were normal and mandatory in this college.

Y’all. People BROUGHT extra paper to class. I’m pretty sure Sarah wrote out five pages alone. Keep in mind, getting the usual comment section filled out at ALL was either optional or rarely exceeded the small space.

I think I only used one or two extra sheets, I DO recall filling a page both front and back. But keep in mind—I have somewhat small handwriting.

I savor the panic on that man’s eyes as he saw that people just. Kept. Writing. An exercise that usually took ten minutes and was technically anonymous (students had to handle the paperwork, both giving it out, taking them back, and turning it in at the front desk) took at least twice that.

Anyways, the next couple of classes were… well. Subdued on his end. Less tangents. He’s still not a good teacher, but none of use are actually paying attention.

We then get the news—he isn’t returning next semester.

There wasn’t a cheer, but Sarah and Alexis and a few other people in the class Share Looks. He doesn’t mention why, but We Knew.

Fun bonus fact about my college—like most schools, there’s a set amount of days per class you can miss without a cause, about two weeks. Since many exams were online, the popular trend—and professors knew and adjusted to this—was that students who hadn’t missed their earlier days would just not be in class the last couple of weeks. They’d show up to an in-person exam, if needed, but those last couple of weeks were usually exam prep and damn near an option for most classes.

I had to go to one class of his during the two week period because I missed a day, and half of everyone was gone.

After that day, I did not return to that class.

I got an A in that class despite knowing JACK about social psychology, and Stephen Fucking Hawk was gone from the staff directory from them on.

And that’s how a tumblr post helped me get a man fired, kind of.

#the professor story #ask me anything #I feel like I’ve told bits of this story before but ayyy it’s fine #I honestly probably forgot more of the bullshit this man pulled #I remember consciously choosing to wear very baggy and nonrevealing clothes #which. I mean my style wasn’t very revealing either #but I actively avoided dresses and skirts and anything that defined a waistline or my chest

[00-hawkboi-00]

Forget-Me-Not

Part One

Pairing; Gaz x male!reader

WC; ~6.3k

Warnings; none? I don't think?? Lemme know if there are any I should tag

Summary; gaz is definitely an attraction-at-first-sight kinda man/ it's time to wake up from that coma bby <33

A/n; when I said 'fluffy' I meant no one was gettin tortured this time around . Also, yes, this is definitely a set up for a ton of angst content <3 (note the unfinished ch title) There's going to be a "missing scenes" feel to this one, that's intentional.

Edit- I forgot to mention, this takes place before the other two fics, during the mw2 campaign (tho I definitely spread out the events bc no way could this all take place in the span of a week)

---"this is how we began,"---

Kyle had just gotten back from almost a week of being tossed around like a damn ping-pong ball when he met them. Or, rather, met you.

Fresh out of the shower—yet he swore he could still smell that filthy water on himself—and bored out of his mind with nothing else to do.

It would take a bit of time before Laswell fed them some more actionable intel, and to Kyle's knowledge, the two other members of their team were already on the hunt in Mexico. So all there was to do was wait.

Well, Kyle figured he could probably use this time to catch up on some much needed rest—but where was the fun in that?

He couldn't sleep, not right now, not when Price had informed him of a new squad touching down at their base this afternoon. According to the captain, they—around five or so soldiers—were just here to provide support if needed.

Kyle didn't think it was necessary, but it's not like he had any say in the matter. Especially since, apparently, the squad would only be using their base as a rest stop between their own missions. So, again, he didn't see the point.

But, like any curious soldier would do—and any who were a bit skeptical about their newest comrades—, Kyle was already beelining his way to where he knew the newcomers would touch down.

Kyle had paid attention to the bare minimum information needed to avoid butting heads with the group, but never dug much further than that. Some American mercenaries under General Shepard's direct command and, as he'd mentioned before, here to provide support or something. Again, he hadn't paid much mind to the info thrown at him; honestly didn't think he'd end up meeting them anyhow.

Only when he finally gets out on the tarmac Kyle doesn't immediately rush to greet the new soldiers as he usually would. He comes to a full stop, previously resting heartbeat now running a marathon in his chest, gaze zeroed in on you.

Seeing you—your form lax and almost casual in comparison to your stiff-postured comrades, a certain air of confidence surrounding you—made Kyle wish he'd done a bit more research, asked a few more questions.

Dressed no differently from the rest, there was nothing particularly interesting about you. Nothing that should draw him in so wholly upon merely seeing you. He couldn't even see your face, for fuck's sake—nor could he see any of the rest of the squad's, but that's besides the point.

You hadn't even glanced his way and Kyle was acting like a schoolboy seeing his crush in the hall between classes.

“You're staring, Kyle.”

“Mh- Wha-?” He drags his attention away from you, wholly prepared to start spluttering out his defense when he recognizes the man who'd come to stand beside him. Noticing the barest hint of a smile pulling at his captain's mouth.

With a soft scoff Kyle looks away again, shaking his head a little. “Not at all, Cap’, just scoping out the newcomers. That's all.”

As anyone else would do, of course.

But they both know it's a lie.

Right before Price has the chance to open his mouth again—likely to playfully call Kyle out on his bullshit in that gruff way of his—the aforementioned group of newbies comes to a stop in front of them.

Two in front, three fanned out behind them. Five after all, it seemed. You and some guy in the front, the rest Kyle wasn't sure of, their identities far too obscure to tell.

“Cap-” The guy standing beside you starts to speak, only to be roughly—albeit probably playfully—nudged aside by your elbow, effectively cutting him off.

“Greetin’s Captain,” you say, amusement obvious in your tone, a slight wrinkling at the corners of your eyes betraying a hidden smile.

And Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn't completely enraptured as you spoke. Barely even registering the hand you held out to shake Price’s hand.

“Shadow 0-9, at your service,” though there's still a hint of humor in your voice, there's a certain air of professionalism to it too. Even as you retract your hand and raise it, fingers curled into a fist and thumb jutted out, to gesture to the soldiers around you.

Starting with the one beside you, then on to the three behind you, right to left. “Joined by Shadows 0-3, 1-4, 1-5, and 2-3.”

Then it's on to the actually serious stuff. “Commander Graves has sent us under the General's orders to stay here and provide assistance to your cause if need be. Though mostly we will be carrying out our own missions and using your base as a landing zone between operations.”

And again, amused—your flip-flopping emotions were going to give him whiplash at this rate.

This time clapping a heavy, gloved hand on 0-3’s shoulder, the slight crinkle around your eyes returning. “If y'all got any questions, feel free to ask me,” lightly jostling 0-3 now. “these imbeciles hardly got a clue what's goin' on half the time anyway.”

It's obvious the other four Shadows are used to your antics, as none of them even bat an eye at your, likely empty, insult to their intelligence.

Kyle zones out as Price goes over his own spiel, mind somehow blissfully blank as he stands beside his captain. Thumbs subconsciously slung through his belt loops in place of gripping his vest like he usually would, gaze focused on the group in front of him, giving all the impressions of some serious, gold-star sergeant attentively paying attention to his CO.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

The spell Kyle is under only breaks when Price directs his attention his way, drawing his focus when the man says, “-gent Garrick ‘ere will show you lot around. All the standard things; barracks, mess, rec and the works-”

He then proceeds to space out again when your gaze slips from Price and to Kyle instead, not a single thing out of place as you analyze him.

It feels like you've got a scalpel to his skin, peeling away layer after layer. Through the muscle and fatty tissue, and deeper still, until you've reached the bone, and you keep going.

It's not uncomfortable, the way you tear into him like a rabid hound gobbles up a raw steak. Or maybe not rabid, no, you're not feral. You’re cool and calculating and yet playful all the same. A working dog, a trained hound, then.

It's more.. Kyle doesn't think he harbors the vocabulary to put it into words how he feels about it; flayed alive under your watchful gaze. It's strange. But it's not.. bad.

It's been all of five seconds when your eyes flicks away from him. A quick scan, a once over, just as he had done to your squad, and then you're fixated on Price again.

Price who's still talking, saying things Kyle doesn't have the wherewithal to bring himself to care about. Not when he felt so viscerally raw and unbelievably vulnerable in his own damn base at the moment.

He has a few more seconds to compose himself before Price finishes up and all five of the collectives’ attention is on him, expectant.

And so Kyle plasters on a carefree expression, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and casually nudges Price with a loose fist. A mused, “thanks, Cap'” and such, then he's taking charge.

Voice level and strong, like any typical self-respecting Sergeant, as he turns and urges the group to follow.

The last thing Kyle expects is for you to fall into step beside him—with the impression of your personality he'd gathered, it shouldn't be a surprise—, only lagging a half-step behind, a grin obvious under your mask.

His brain short-circuits, but Kyle quickly recovers, keeping his focus locked straight ahead and decidedly not looking at you. Not for any reason in particular.

“Sergeant,” You drawl—and, fuck, it was just a rank, a title, several others held the same one. So why the hell did it feel so different when you said it?

“Got somethin’ on your mind-” Kyle begins casually, as if his heart wasn't doing literal jumping jacks in his ribcage right now. And it takes him a brief moment to remember what he was supposed to call you, wracking his brain for answers, before he finishes with a bland, “0-9?”

God, he hoped that was the right number. There were five of you, all these numbers were going to be a struggle to keep up with.

“Oh, none ‘a that.” You say with a soft chuckle, waving him off. “I know those digits can get a bit confusing. Call me Viper, that's what everyone else calls me anyway.”

Viper? Like a fucking snake? Not that Kyle had any room to judge; not when two of his teammates were a cleaning product and a Hot Topic employee.

Shite, that probably also meant you wanted him to extend the same damn olive branch. Kyle considered himself a pretty social man, he could hold his own in a group, could approach strangers with almost the same confidence he did with friends.

But there was something about you.

And Kyle wasn't sure if it was good or not.

“A’right, Viper,” Kyle doesn't remember swiping his keycard, but he does jump right back into his body when his hand curls around the handle, pulling the door open and letting you in first before letting your comrades struggle with the heavy door after him. Taking his place just that half a step in front of you once more. “They call me Gaz.”

“There a story behind that one?” You ask, not a single ounce of hesitation or delay.

“That depends, there one behind yours?” Kyle quips right back, not missing a beat.

Kyle's ears pick up the tiniest huff you let out, but nothing else. “That depends,” you mimic. “how much you wanna know?”

“Whatever you'll give me.” It was easy to lay the charm on thick, but it seemed almost like a competition between you two, as you quickly fired back.

“Desperate, are we, Sergeant?” Kyle could've swore you just, honest to God, purred when you said that. But he must've just been hearing things.

“Just curious.” You had asked first. How had this turned on him?

“Mm, think I'll just leave ya guessing.” You muse, closing that half-step distance to just barely brush your arm up against his, and then back to your place again. “It'll be more fun that way.”

Kyle nearly forgets there's four other people witnessing this conversation right then.

Finally alone again, and having gotten the new squad settled in properly, Kyle takes a moment for himself.

As of right now apparently his fellow sergeant and good ‘ol lieutenant were currently taking a tour around Mexico, and Price was out doing very important Captain-things, so Kyle was entirely on his own.

On his own to deal with whatever the fuck that dumpsterfire of a base tour that had been.

He'd been entirely sidetracked by you the whole time! It didn't make any sense, what did you have that the other soldiers didn't?

You all wore the same uniform, all bore the same random-ass numbers, all were just a bunch of trained killers- there was literally nothing to set you apart!

A lot of people were touchy by nature, especially in professions like this that were built on comradery, Soap certainly was, so there was no reason in the deepest parts of hell for why-

Kyle groans softly to himself, running a hand over his hair before pushing himself up and off his desk chair.

There was no rhyme or reason to it, to why he, in the most cheesy fucking way, honestly felt a goddamn spark when you touched him.

And it wasn't even in the realm of- of intimate. It was a simple brush against him here and there, made perfect sense too! You'd been standing so close the entire time- it was only expected that once and a while you two would graze each other now and again.

He's pacing now, wishing nothing more than to be able to pick up his phone and call the only man who'd be able to help him make sense of all these weird feelings. And also the only man who'd call him daft and his brother in the same sentence.

But he can't do that, so Kyle resigned to simply doing what he should've done in the first place after his furious scrub down in the shower; take a damn nap.

Kyle's first impression of your personality had been wildly off-mark.

If he was going off of how he'd first perceived you last week on the tarmac, he would say that you were easygoing, gave off a more.. laid back energy, maybe even a bit quick-witted.

But his current observations said everything but that.

Kyle had been trying to skirt past all the tired, bleary-eyed soldiers that passed him in the hall without being noticed by the more lively of the bunch; he didn't have the energy for that right now. The last few had nearly flown by him though, wide-eyed and clearly spooked.

Confused, Kyle had brushed it off and continued walking. Sometimes these men were like wild horses, alerted by the smallest mishaps.

Kyle becomes keenly aware of exactly why those last stragglers had appeared so frightened when he turns down the next corner, on his way to the rec room, when he spots you.

Or, more accurately, spots you tearing one of your own soldiers a new one in the empty corridor. The very self-explanatory as to why, isolated corridor.

He gets the gist of it fairly quickly, even as the words flying out of your mouth go in one ear and out the other without a hint of recognition.

The shorter man had obviously fucked something up, and was now hearing it in all the jumbled mix of curses and slang Kyle couldn't even begin to comprehend.

“An' if I eva’ ‘ear ya sayin' shit like that again I'll ‘ave ya scrapin’ shit out the muck from the break ‘a dawn ‘n ‘til the damn cows come home, ya hear?” You spit, masked face mere centimeters away from the other's. A gloved hand fisted in 1-5’s, if he remembered correctly, shirt collar, making him have to nearly raise to the toe of his boots in order to not be choked by the fabric.

There's a venomous flare in your eyes when you snap to look at him, a misstep on his part alerting you, and Kyle has never felt more conflicted in his life.

“Everything good here, Viper?” Obviously not, but what else was he supposed to say?

“Just peachy.” You grit out, fingers slowly unfurling from 1-5’s shirt. In turn the poor man is able to lower himself back onto the ground fully, letting out an obvious breath of relief when your hand pulls back completely, falling clenched at your side.

The brave soul who had somehow triggered the brunt of your aggression manages to stand there a little longer until you huff out a gruff, “dismissed.” And send 1-5 on his way.

Though not before barking out a, “And be sure ‘ta relay the message ‘ta Pierce!” As the man scurries away, a quick “yes, sir!” choked out over his shoulder.

“And if I asked what that was about?” Kyle asks when 1-5 is out of sight, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I'd say it ain't yer business, Garrick.” You snap, still obviously not having gotten the frustration out of your system. Kyle's first instinct is to throw another quip right back at you, extra sarcasm on top like it's sprinkles and he's making a damn sundae, and he almost does, but Kyle quickly slams his mouth back shut before the words escape.

Instead he sighs and relaxes his posture.

“Y’look like shit.”

That seems to put a halt to whatever was rampaging through your head, the rage clearing for a moment to make room for shock first, then confusion.

“..what?” Your clearly puzzled gaze—so expressive, even with the mask—would be humorous, if not for the truth to Kyle's words.

You did look like shit. Like someone had run a train on you—literally. A real one; honk honk, rattle rattle and all. Your hair ruffled, matted with some unknown substance and sticking up in every which direction. The black paint around your eyes was smudged away and exposed your true skin tone, well.. kinda. Now with the additional flavor of mud and debris.

Even with the limited access he had to your face, Kyle would say you looked.. tired. Run ragged—maybe that train wasn't all that metaphorical. Beneath the anger it was clear as day you were just exhausted; you looked nothing like that first day he'd met you, when he had shown you around base.

Hidden grin and playful banter replaced with a stiff posture and veiled limp—yeah, he definitely noticed that part. You weren't the only observant one here.

“I said you look like shit, mate.” Kyle says. His clarification doesn't, well, clear anything up for you, if anything just frustrating you further. Making your eyebrows furrow in a way that's almost cute.

You huff, posture straightening even though Kyle can see the way the new position puts a strain on your worn body- he doesn't mention it. It's not his place.

“Thanks.” You reply, voice flat.

“It was a compliment.” It wasn't.

Deadpan, “really?”

“Mhm.” But Kyle stays firm in his resolve.

“I aim to please.”

“Clearly.” And there it is. Kyle can't see it, obviously, but the small twitch of your features, the slightest crinkle at the corner of your eye, tells him he has succeeded. Even if it's not your usual smile—not that he would know what that looked like.

Another puff of air from you, closer to a sigh this time. “Did you need somethin', Gaz?”

The heat is gone, but Kyle can see the way the embers linger; ready to reignite at the first spark.

“How ‘bout we take a walk, mh?” He wasn't planning on a walk, really, but Kyle wasn't actively planning against one either. “Clear your head a bit?”

You look like you want to brush him off, hesitating like you want to say no and rush off just like your subordinate had. But you don't. “..sure.”

And that's all Kyle needs to tilt his head in the direction he came from before turning around.

Kyle doesn't have to look back to know you've taken your place the position on his left, half a step behind him. Just as you had that first day.

It becomes a sort of.. routine.. after that. And while Kyle hadn't seen much of you that first week, you make an appearance by his side—always on the left, always half a step behind—more often than not.

A little spark of some unidentifiable emotion lighting up in your eyes when you see him. Kyle isn't quite certain what it means, but if it meant he got to see you more often, he was fine with not knowing.

You were.. friends. Or as much as you could be in this situation, one Kyle knew was temporary. Which had the man trying to heed Ghost's advice for once and not get attached; there was no telling when either of you would be shipped out again, never to return.

“Gaz!” The sound of your voice is unmistakable when shouted over the noisy chatter of the cafeteria, and Kyle's heart definitely does not do a weird flip when he hears it. Definitely not.

Yeah, so he may or may not be struggling with the whole following Ghost's advice thing. Hey! He said he was trying, not that it was actively working.

“Viper.” Kyle greets when you take a seat in front of him. Usually he would have lunch with his dear captain, but Price was even more busy as of late—and reasonably so—and the lack of that familiar presence was really starting to wear on him. Made the lack of another pair of comrades much more prominent.

“Did you know your bellybutton is actually attached to your bladder-”

You filled in that empty space a little.

“What? I thought it was just cut off from everything else?”

Kyle never did find out what had you so down in the dumps, but it wasn't his place to know anyway. Everyone had their secrets.

“No! There's a lil' line that travels from your bellybutton down to your bladder. That's why it feels so damn weird when touched-”

You were a little spitfire. Reminded him of Soap, kinda. Except Soap didn't flip flop from fiery rage one moment to calm and collected the next, buttery smooth words dripping with innuendo.

And then there was right now, where you shared the strangest little factoids with Kyle.

“And don't even get me started on the dormant blood vessel in your liver-”

And that is where Kyle drew the line.

“Nope, nope, nope-” Kyle says, waving a fork in your general direction. Amused when you gasp in surprise, as if he's threatening you with something more substantial than this flimsy plastic. “I am eating. I don't wanna hear gross facts about my anatomy.”

“Would you prefer a physical demonstration on anatomy instead?”

And that was the weird innuendos he mentioned before. Sure, Soap and him shared a few playful taunts now and again, occasionally the rest of the team would chime in—and there was whatever the hell Soap and Ghost had going on, but Kyle didn't think those were all jokes. But this felt.. different.

“You are a menace, you know that?” Kyle huffs, twirling some bland mush around the fear-inspiring fork from before; now that he wasn't actively threatening you with it.

A dramatic gasp, and Kyle doesn't even have to look up to know you look just as dramatized as you sound.

“I am a damn saint, Gaz!”

“Rigghhhht, is that what we're calling this?” He does look up this time, and the slight widening of your eyes, the little glimmer of something hiding in those captivating hues, makes him glad he did. Pocketing that adorable priceless look on your face for safekeeping.

“I've got the body, the attitude,” you count with both hands, a finger for each listed item. Gaze on something vaguely to your right as you think. “And the charm! That's like- the fuckin' holy trinity. I'm a damn holy temple, I tell ya!”

“Sure you are, mate.” Kyle says, a small grin on his face that he couldn't get rid of even if he wanted to. It does make eating a little difficult though.

He tries not to linger on the fact that you never eat in front of him. But you always come to hang out with him anyway.

Things are good between you two, and Kyle feels warm and giddy every time you grace him with your, as you'd once put it, saintly presence. He doesn't ponder much as to the why he feels this way; not that it really matters, this was temporary and you'd be shipped off somewhere else eventually.

That space to his left feels cold when you're not there, empty, and even though he's never worked with you in the field, Kyle finds himself looking back, expecting you to be there when he crawls through tall grass and mud in that suffocating ghillie suit.

It's dumb and Kyle doesn't know why he does it, but he half expects you to chip in a word or two over his shoulder in the midst of his playful banter with Price and Laswell. When he is, once again, pushing through tall grass. Only this time he gets to snipe a few dozen unsuspecting soldiers from hundreds of meters away.

Things are going well, so damn well, almost too good to be true. And it is.

Kyle would have never expected to hear such raw panic in his captain's voice, accustomed to the man's usual gruff and composed behavior. It strikes fear right into Kyle's core, cutting through his chest and piercing directly into the sergeant's heart.

In the beginning, Kyle had been eager to get this over with and fly back to base with the expectation of seeing you again; now that idea was nothing but a passive thought as his mind was clouded with a worry mirroring Price's.

Kyle's entire torso feels like it's been ripped to shreds when they touch down on base again, every step shooting sparks of pain through his nerves and reminding him why he hates heights so damn much. But at least they managed to get Laswell back before anything could go terribly wrong. They had Farah and her soldiers to thank for that.

Wanting nothing more than to soak himself in a tub of scalding hot water, and knowing he'll have to settle for a lukewarm shower instead, then sleep the pain away, Kyle's path is interrupted by the sight of you marching down the corridor.

“Gaz! Shit- there you are!” You call when a few paces away from him, a sort of relief obvious in your breathy tone. You come to an abrupt halt right in front of him, blocking Kyle's way and causing him to come to a sudden stop lest he accidentally crash into you.

Your eyes are analytical and Kyle is far too exhausted to decipher the several layers of emotion that flash through your gaze.

In the end you seem to come to some sort of conclusion, stating a flat, “Y’look like shit.”

“Yeah,” Kyle huffs out a surprised laugh; the phrase reminiscent of when he'd caught you chewing out one of your soldiers. “Falling out of a helicopter doesn't usually make for a pretty sight.”

“Fuckin'- pardon!?” Your eyes go wide, and Kyle would bet your mouth was hanging open right now too. “How the hell did that even happen?”

Kyle couldn't reveal too much of their little rendezvous in Urzikstan, but he could tell you the gist of it. Namely how the fuck he got tossed out of Nikolai's helicopter like a damn ragdoll.

“Was helping out a friend,” car hopping and trying not to get shot at in the process. “Got a bit tossed around, you know how it is- RPG, couldn't deploy countermeasures in time..”

“Luckily I got the rope latched in time, shit hurt the most when the rope ran out.” Kyle's hip bones ache at the memory, and he knows for certain his body will be one giant bruise in the morning.

“Are- are you okay-?” You stammer, gaze no longer on him and now flicking over his dirtied uniform. Never lingering on one spot.

“I'll bounce back soon eno-” Your hands reach out then, as if wanting to touch him and make sure for yourself. Kyle cuts off mid sentence, eyes widening by a fraction and body going stiff.

As if just realizing what you were doing, your hands pause where they are, hovering awkwardly between the two of you. Your gloves and his own gear serve as a thick barrier between your bodies, but Kyle swears there is an energy buzzing there; an electric static thriving in the air between you both, the tension near suffocating.

“I'm just gonna..” it takes Kyle a second to realize you've fully retracted your hands by now, a stale awkwardness lingering between you two.

Kyle isn't sure whether to feel disappointed or be appalled by how much he wished you had touched him. Between the fluctuating altitudes he'd endured and the full body ache he was currently experiencing, Kyle comes to the conclusion that it must just be the exhaustion finally kicking in. Yes, of course. That is why he was mourning the loss of something that hadn't even happened. There was no other possible reason.

Clearing his throat with a stilted cough, Kyle nods. “Y-yeah, definitely. And I should take that shower..”

“Of course, yeah-” Your gaze is downcast now, arms tucked behind your back and Kyle notes the nervous shift of your weight from one foot to the other. “You- you do that.”

“Yeah.” And then Kyle hightails his ass out of there, it's a little awkward—who is he kidding, it's beyond awkward. And how many times was he going to say awkward, would any other synonyms suffice? You had been standing in front of him, so Kyle has to do a weird little hop to the side to get around you- which then triggers you into motion. And you step to the side to get out of his way.

Only the direction your subconscious chooses is once again right in his path and Kyle stumbles over his own feet, barely avoiding colliding with you but pulling on his sore muscles in a way that has him digging his teeth into his lip to avoid letting out a sharp yelp.

When Kyle regains his balance, the hallway is empty and you're nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh, and a heavier weight on his shoulders than before, Kyle straightens back up and continues on his way to his initial destination.

There better be some warm water left when he gets there.

As it turned out, falling out of a helicopter and just barely surviving by sheer luck did actually have its drawbacks and one couldn't just walk away with a few scrapes and expect to be a-okay in the ol’ nob up top.

For Kyle that meant various scenes playing out in his dreams of what could have happened, not what did. Ranging from him not having clipped the hook onto his gear right, to the rope just snapping in half the minute Kyle reached the end of the line. Even some where he just straight up splat into the back of one of the many trucks that had been flying by. The worst had to be when the helo was hit dead on and Kyle wasn't even given the chance to make things right, bleeding out and dying right then and there in the cabin of Nikolai's helicopter.

Waking up drenched in a cold sweat wasn't anything new to the sergeant, but waking up alone, as of late, was. Usually he was bunked up with Soap, and when not on base, or stationed on another, he was grouped up with other soldiers.

Being forced into the waking world with his heart lodged in his throat and beating so fast it was practically trying to escape, with the aches and bruises that made the nightmares all that more real, and being stuck inside a dark, empty room? Now that just wasn't pleasant at all.

Pushing through the stabbing aches radiating throughout his body, Kyle forces himself to stand, haphazardly throws on an old hoodie and decides right then and there he needs a cup of tea. Extra steamy.

The walk to the common room, and subsequently the kitchenette beyond that, is short and Kyle doesn't have to think about it when he places one foot in front of the other. His legs easily carried him to his destination without the need for any extra brainpower.

Kyle doesn't notice the looming figure in the dark, obscured by shadow in the corner of the rec room, until he's already got a burning hot mug between his hands. Passing back through now that he's got his tea, he's graciously welcomed back by a lamp in the corner flicking on.

He blames the high-pitched squeal that rips from his throat on his exhaustion and not that he'd been spooked by a fucking light of all things.

“Viper- shit,” He breathes, the hand not currently cradling the mug flying up to clutch at his heart.

“Sorry.” You murmur, sounding a bit sheepish. Your voice is a little deeper than usual and Kyle assumes you must've also woken up recently. He opts to ignore the small flutters that erupt in his stomach at the sound. “Couldn't sleep. Didn't think anyone else would be out ‘ere, wasn't tryna startle ya.”

Kyle moves to wave off your concern, only to wince at the strain it puts on his sore muscles, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth.

You, ever the observant bastard, immediately zero in on his discomfort, one of your eyebrows quirking upward as you study him.

“Alright?”

Not trusting his voice, Kyle hums a noncommittal sound, and, trying to appear at least a little put together, straightens his posture and steps forward.

But the pain is worse now and he nearly spills his tea, instinctively tightening his grip around the steamy mug.

Fuck, Kyle had known it would hurt—Christ’s sake, he had literally fallen out of a damn helicopter—but he had obviously severely underestimated how bad it would be. Now, he was used to pain, you didn't get very far in this line of work without at the very least some tolerance for the aches and burns.

But this? This was a pain that went from an average sort of soreness in the muscles of his thighs, to sharp stabbing pains in his hips and a near debilitating throbbing ache that spanned over practically his entire torso.

Everything hurts. Laying down hurts. Standing hurts. Sitting hurts. Everything. Unless he stayed completely still, Kyle's entire body felt like one giant bruise. Any little twitch of a muscle sent a stabbing shock straight to his nervous system.

You're on your feet and standing in front of him before Kyle even has a chance to right himself again. When had his breathing become so labored?

There's no hesitation this time around, no awkwardness when your hands shoot out. Grasping his shoulders, your hold gentle yet firm, and stabilizing Kyle where he stood.

Kyle isn't quite sure when it had happened, but the warmth of his mug was gone. Replaced by the heat of your own body from where his hands rested—really, more or less hanging on for dear life; he'd be ashamed if he had the wherewithal to do so—on your waist. Fingers curled tight, twisted and snagged into the fabric of your shirt.

If Kyle hadn't been so out of it from the sheer amount of pain he was in, he would've noticed your lack of uniform. More dressed down than he'd ever seen you—though a mask still firmly in place, he would've noticed if it were otherwise.

“Did anyone check you out when you came back?” Kyle has to actively work to zone back in on the rough timber of your voice, his mind sluggish as it works through each word and syllable.

“Y- kinda? I wasn't bleeding out or nothing.”

“Oh, fuck's sake-” you let out a heavy exhale, and Kyle, though as disorientated as he currently is, can here the unsaid you’re a goddamn idiot clear as day in that singular breath.

“Alright. You're comin' with me.”

“Wh- huh?”

“With me. No questions, Garrick.” You hold no authority over him, if anything, this being his base, and not yours, Kyle had a bit more of a say in matters than you did. And yet, when you release your hold and untangle yourself from his, Kyle follows.

There is nothing stopping you from touching him now. Not since last night.

Kyle can still feel your hands, strong and yet so, so unbelievably delicate, running across his skin. Scouring his abdomen for anything that would clue you in on whether he had internal bleeding or not, pressing down on his bruised rib cage, checking for breaks in the fragile bone.

Thankfully, you find nothing but the bruising painted clearly on his skin, and Kyle can't get the picture, the feel, of your hands brushing over his stomach. Up his sides and down to his hips, further still to his aching thighs. The latter had been over his clothes, but the heat of your palms had been more than enough.

The following day, and practically every waking second now, Kyle's mind and eyes were on you. If he couldn't see you, he was thinking about you. And if he could see you, you were usually at his side. A hand on his shoulder, an elbow nudging his arm.

Kyle now found himself in an odd state of yearning. His body craved your touch in a way it never had for any other's. His heart skipped a couple beats every time he even caught sight of you.

And when you touched him? Shit, Kyle had to hope and pray the blush he could feel warming his cheeks wasn't as visible as it felt.

Kyle wasn't quite sure why he reacted to you the way he did. And, honestly, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. He was perfectly content not knowing—was he? Or was he just burying what he didn't want to acknowledge?

He didn't ruminate on the fact that Soap had a tendency to touch him similarly—but, shit, it was different, wasn't it?—, and never had Kyle once responded to it the way he did with you.

If Price had noticed—which he likely hadn't with what was going on halfway around the globe. Soap and Ghost stuck somewhere in Mexico, and of course the constant planning on what their next move would be. The captain didn't mention it.

If Soap was here, he'd probably call Kyle out on his bullshit. But he wasn't, and Kyle was perfectly alright with continuing to ignore the, definitely one-hundred percent platonic, convoluted emotions he felt towards you.

Things were good; the last thing Kyle wanted was to accidentally rock this delicate sailboat when he currently had unlimited access to your bubbling laugher, sarcastic quips, and crinkling eyes.

A Viper, that's what you were nicknamed after, and, with that fiery attitude of yours, Kyle was starting to understand why.

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Masterlist | Next

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@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @gabbvr-dog @suhmie @lazyrel @spiritzofthedead @yeonpm @its-ares @k1ssesofdeath @ravagerdogz

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

(also if you change ur user and still wanna be a part of the list, let me know pls)

#i had a lot of trouble when tranfering this one from my google docs #hopfully nothin is off abt jt.. #call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #reader insert #gay #gaz x male reader #gaz call of duty #gaz cod

[reallyromealone]

Omegaverse chapter 2

Part 1 part 3

(name) was dumbfounded.

These motherfuckers just came onto his land, into his house and fucked his life up and demanded that he allow them to woo him.

(Name) didn't know what to think honestly but he knew what to say.

"No"

"What?" Mikey and Izana said wide eyed "do you already know who you want to go with?" Izana asked excitedly and Mikey shared similar excitement; both men assuming it's themselves.

"I'm not going with either of you, seriously what would make you guys think after you put me into a stress induced Frenzy and destroyed my home that i would want to go with you two?!" (Name) snapped out, honestly the gall of these alphas!

"Alphas, you all just think you can bust in and act like you run the place without any regard of how it affects other people! This is one of the key reasons why I ran away to begin with! That and being murdered for my vender" (name) seethed out and glaring at the two "let us prove we are worth your time..." Souya spoke out, chest heavy with guilt...he didn't mean to do this to the omega..

He didn't mean to basically take everything this poor man worked so hard to make right from under him.

"And why should I?"

"Because want to prove we are worth your time"

(Name) sat silently before speaking "Not like I truly have an option, you guys probably won't go away anyways"

Mikey and Izana perked up at this and already formulating ways to woo the omega and make the other look bad "now can you guys please go away? I have to clean your mess"

(Name) was obviously upset at the fact that everything he worked to make was ruined and that's when Draken spoke up next "let us omega... It's only right"

Some members of the clan complained but after a glare from their respective leaders they quickly went to work and tidied and fixed up the omegas home with both their physical abilities and magical and (name) would never admit that he was fascinated by the magic they used, like a black whispy must coming from them.

He was almost curious on what it felt like..

The demons pretended like they didn't see the look of awe on the omegas face while they fixed things up, only taking roughly twenty minutes but god did it boost their egos when the pretty little omega looked at them in awe and they had to suppress a laugh when he acted like he didn't care.

He was just so precious!

Once they finished (name) begrudgingly thanked them and basically kicked them out the best his human strength could allow but before the demons left Mikey took the omegas hand and layed a tender kiss on his pulse without breaking eye contact "see you soon darling" as Izana kissed his knuckles " Can't wait to see you again my queen"

(Name) huffed and pulled his hands away and slammed his door shut with a frown before closing his curtains angrily and walked to his now closet nest and began fixing it and grumbling to himself.

"Treating me like I'm some prize to be won.... fucking bullshit...how would they like it huh?!"

Outside the hut the rival tribes stared at one another menacingly, the air frigid and dead.

"May the best demon win..." The clan leaders said to one another before going off in separate directions to set up camps.

They were not letting this omega go.

Morning came and (name) almost forgot about yesterday's events and grabbed his bow and arrow, needing meat for tonight's stew and went out.

Only to see those fuckers from yesterday..

Oh yeah.

Them.

(Name) looked annoyed at the alphas who looked confused at him "where are you going?" Mitsuya asked curiously and eyed his bow and arrow "hunting" (name) said simply and the alphas found they enjoyed an omega who could care for themselves like he did.

He wasn't weak.

But they liked the idea of taking care of him more..

"That's not very omega like is it?" Hanma said teasingly and (name) shot his head towards the golden eyed man with a cold glare "and what exactly is omega like?"

"Letting us hunt for you baby boy"

"Don't call me that you cretin" (name) said disgusted before walking past them, and into the deep woods around the small clearing.

(Name) drew his arrow with precision and shot the rabbit directly in the neck and smiled slightly.

Until the sulfuric smell was far to close him, turning (name) yelped as Mikey's face was basically over his shoulder.

He didn't even hear him!

"Wow, my omega is sure full of surprises! Angry told me how good of a cook you are as well~" he said happily and (name) was confused...who was angry?

"Who is---" "oi back off from our omega!" Izanas voice rang cold and (name) was pulled into someone's chest, a tall man with braids and playful lavender eyes "hello little one~" he said smoothly and chuckled at the omegas startled expression as another with blonde hair and blue streaks leaned beside him with a curious grin.

"My name is Ran~ this is my younger brother Rindou~ we are the Haitani brothers" Ran said smoothly into (name)s ear and (name) flushed from discomfort and tried to get out of the lanky man's grasp.

"Where you going? We just wanna get to know our future mate better" Rindou said teasingly before taking (name)s hand and kissing it.

"Oi back off from our omega!" Nahoya said with angry and the Haitani brothers pulled (name) behind them, the omega taking the moment of the alphas being annoying to go collect his rabbit before a wild animal grabs it.

Pulling out the Arrow from the rabbit (name) ignored the argument behind him, hunting would be cut short today as the angry pharamones most definitely scared away any wild life within a ten kilometer radius.

Walking back, alphas kept trying to help him with everything and it would be sweet if he didn't know their motives behind it all.

The back of his hut held a small skinning shed he created, better to keep the smell of blood and such out of his home after all "hmm what are you doing?" A voice spoke clearly behind him and a tall masked man stood behind him staring down at the rabbit in the omegas hand "skinning it and prepping it" (name) said bluntly before going to complete his task, ignoring the looming demon behind him who watched over his shoulder with great interest.

The Alpha continued following him everywhere, and soon the clan leaders returned from their squabble and watched (name) with interest like a kid seeing a fire breather when he was just doing mundane tasks and doing his best to ignore the stares.

"Do you need help (name)? Mitsuya is really good at sewing and stuff" Souya said awkwardly to the pretty omega, still low-key feeling like shit for putting this on him but hey at least the omega didn't get whisped away with the perverted tenjiku clan, he didn't trust those slimy alphas at all.

(Name) was fixing a quilt, the stitches not great in the slightest "I don't want to inconvenience, it's fine" (name) said trying to focus on the sloppy stitches, not paying attention to the blue haired man glancing to who one would assume was Mitsuya, the lavender man smiling softly and walking over behind (name) and gently taking the others hands in his own "It's like this.." his voice was smooth in (name)s ears as he showed him the proper way, eyes kind as (name) mumbled a soft thank you and continued his work, the other men watching on with seething jealousy at the display.

Mitsuya would be a damn liar if he said he didn't take this opportunity to secretly smell the other, relishing in the sweet aroma the other produced; he could drown happily in the scent honestly. "What do you like to do omega?"

"(Name)."

"Hm?"

"My name is (name), not omega" (name) huffed out and Mitsuya smiled at the others cold look and replied "Takashi" and the omega nodded before returning to his task.

It was strangely thrilling to see the omega do small tasks like this, gave the men a homey feeling the weren't used to at all.

And it was addictive as hell.

"You never answered my question (name)~" Mitsuya said softly, eyeing the omega who sighed defeatedly "before I left I enjoyed reading quite a bit, when traders would visit I would spend the coins i saved for a new book and sometimes the town doctor would let me read his scrolls and books" the look in (name)s eyes, it was like he was far away as he remembered fondly of reading book after book.

"You don't read anymore?" Mitsuya asked genuinely curious and (name) gave a weak smile "male omegas are practically an omen... Going to any towns would be a death wish" he said simply before standing up "it's getting late, goodnight" and with that he was gone, leaving the alphas to stare at his missing presence and the lingering smell of (scent).

"We are getting him every book his heart could desire" Mitsuya said seriously as the demons sat around the large campfire, having told them the omegas hobby.

The men wholeheartedly agreed.

(Name) couldn't sleep, tossing and turning before ultimately giving up.

Stepping outside, he felt the cool air hug him as he say on the tiny porch of his home and looked at the night sky.

Within a week his life had completely spiralled out of his control.

He almost wanted to laugh.

The alphas were tolerable but he knew they had alterior motives.

They always do.

The sky was splattered with stars and radiant colors and (name) couldn't pull himself to look away and felt his worries was away just slightly.

Kakucho watched from a distance, the omegas expression so serene and relaxed... God he wanted to whisk him away but that would lead to a blood bath.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He asked once close enough and (name) jumped slightly and Kakucho apologized for startling him.

"Shouldn't you?" (Name) fired back and stared at the scarred man suspiciously and Kakucho showed his hands to show he was in fact not a threat "demons don't exactly need sleep" he said softly and sat beside the omega who watched him suspiciously "i never got the chance to introduce myself... Kakucho"

"(Name)"

"Sorry about Izana, he can be intense sometimes but he is good"

"You guys came with the intent of taking me from my home and turning me into what? A baby maker?" Ouch. That hurt a bit "why should I believe anything you lot say?"

"We wouldn't make you into a baby maker, we wanted to mate you"

"There's a whole process before that ya know" like courting and such.

"Isn't that what we are doing now?"

"Only because Toman came"

He wasn't wrong.

Tenjiku was only going through the courting process because Toman happened to show up.

"I'm sorry" Kakucho said honestly looking at (name) with seriousness that almost startled the omega "your apology is heard but not accepted"

Well it was something other than the omega hissing and such at them.

(Name) shivered slightly in the cold night before standing up "you should go back before your pack misses you" (name) said simply and went back inside, Kakucho almost reaching out to hold him close when he left.

His alpha greatly enjoyed the omegas company and he found himself enjoying it as well.

And he found himself wanting more.

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #toman x reader #tenjiku x reader #male reader #omegaverse #omega male reader

[possessionisamyth]

So, while I do think a lot of the criticism of Remake Ada is in bad faith, I do think there is something to be said about how the design of the character does not match the personality they gave her.

They clearly want to portray Ada as someone who puts up a cold, professional front with a heart hidden underneath but the outfit they gave her still screams Femme Fatale and is in some ways even less appropriate than her original outfit. The animated direction doesn't help either with quite a few shots of her ass. Not that any of this is remotely the fault of Lily Gao who clearly knows what type of character she is supposed to be voicing.

Basically, the writing and acting for Ada aren't the issue, the design and visual direction are the issues.

I forgot I got this in my askbox! I can't really add much to this. You're right, but the problem isn't limited to Resident Evil. Many game franchises pull this shit no matter how nuanced they write the character's story and personality. If they have boobs, it's fair game to try and sell the sex angles. It's honestly their default most of the time.

The people who spend money and yell the loudest about the things they've purchased are the opinions that corporate will listen to. It's why we get the scene of Rebecca struggling in a wedding dress in Vendetta. It's why we got Claire tank top shot and then struggling while tied to a chair in Infinite Darkness. It's why we got that close up of Jill's cleavage with the licker tongue in Death Island. Hell, it's why you could look up Ashley's skirt in the original RE4, an aspect that a very specific group were so pissed about being removed in the remake. Maybe that's why they added all those close ups to Ada's ass and not her face. Who knows! I couldn't tell you. I don't pay much attention to the development side of media unless I have to fix a problem or it's an interesting factoid.

Also gotta take into mind who is behind most of the development process decision making. Is it mostly men? Yeah. Are there good men writers/directors who don't do this shit? Also yes. Are they the ones with the final call on all these decisions for the particular game/movie? Probably not. Which is why it happens, and why it happens so often.

I'm sure when it comes to outfit design and framing, thematically speaking, the stark contrast of Leon's old flame Ada to Leon's new flame Ashley could be used as a line of reasoning. Ada has to be the lusty forbidden fruit while Ashley is the pure fairytale princess, but I'm not here to spout bullshit with confidence. Ada was supposed to look hot and sexy in the original games. They did the same in the remakes, but due to her sweater dress they likely chose to improvise for the same effect.

Does it suck? Yeah. Is it good because woman hot and I do thirst for Ada? Idk! I'm still waiting on my fave youtuber to play Separate Ways DLC, and I'm avoiding spoilers like the plague.

I could attempt to go further into what design decisions define a femme fatale, gender expression, and how a woman and a man can wear essentially the same outfit but the woman's will be framed as more sexual or fragile due to how she's forced to move combined with the camera angles. However, I feel it's faster if you look up those mods where people replace the guy characters with girl characters in game cutscenes to see the sexism at play.

Batman and Catwoman wear the same outfit until they start giving him more armor in later iterations. But look.

Sometimes the clothes don't matter. I think there's a mod where someone switched Ashley and Leon's roles too, and you can see Leon doing Ashley's girly run versus Ashley doing Leon's manly sprint even though they both have shirts that cling to their fat tits. I'm sorry if you wanted something more nuanced than this. I'd say the only true solution to this problem if they're so insistent on selling sex is to give me more ass and bulging crotch shots of the men. It's only fair.

As for Ada's writing versus her depiction, her writing is just recently becoming stabilized and good. If they Remake RE6, we can see whether or not they learned their lesson or if these choices will keep being made regardless. Though they need to fucking remake Code Veronica first.

#resident evil #ada wong #cbros5 #heh nothing personal kid #re analysis #re4 remake #this is more me rambling than analysis but it's going in the tag anyway in case i want to find it later

[jakekiszkaenthusiast]

challenge accepted- j.m.k

pairing: josh kiszka x reader

warnings: SMUT, (f.receiving) oral, very unprotected sex, arguing with a lot of strong language.

author’s note: …..enjoy.

“what, like ever?”

you shake your head solemnly, raising your eyebrows as your friend giggles and slaps a hand on your knee.

“i’m being serious, kate. no man has ever made me cum- thus, my conclusion: men aren’t worth shit.” you say, only half-joking.

kate snorts another laugh and her reaction pulls your lips into a reluctant smile. you were being harsh on purpose, knowing how funny your friends would find it, but your words were one hundred percent true. no man had ever made you cum, and you couldn’t help but feel pushed further and further away from your attraction to them with every disappointment of a night.

“c’mon, y/n. you gotta give them more credit than that, they try!” another friend chimes in, causing you to roll your eyes.

“but that’s the problem- why should we reward them for doing the bare minimum? in my opinion, if a guy can’t make a girl cum, he isn’t worth any kind of time. think about how much effort we put into getting ready for a date, just to lie there like a dead fish and let them finish in two minutes flat- it’s bullshit! god, i fucking hate men.” you rant, hands waving around to emphasise your impassioned speech.

your friends hum in agreement, nodding their heads. you take a long sip of your drink as you try to formulate more points to rant about, eyes travelling around the busy room.

you didn’t really know why you were here, in all honesty. your older brother was hosting, and you honestly felt childish for sitting around at a house party at the ripe age of 22. this kind of thing was from your teens: bad beer, too-loud music, and your brother’s friends everywhere.

swallowing your drink down in one, you begin ranting again.

“and that’s the point: if we don’t tell them they’re shit at sex, they’ll never learn will they? it’s just basic logic- though it’s not like any of them listen, they’d probably just ignore you and tell-“

“-can you shut the fuck up? for like, two minutes? i’ll literally pay you.”

a voice interrupts you, belonging to the curly haired man sitting on the edge of the couch. you had tried to ignore him when he sat down initially, and you had succeeded. you completely forgot he was even sat there, listening to you complain.

“and who the fuck do you think you are, josh? watch your mouth, asshole.” you spit back, the alcohol maybe taking control of your tongue more than you would normally allow it to.

“i’m just sick of hearing you bitch and moan- we get it, no one has fucked you good enough. ever think it’s because you’re insufferable?”

you scoffed loudly, scrunching your face up with anger.

“fuck off, josh. just because you know i’m right, doesn’t mean you can be so rude. i bet you couldn’t make a girl cum if you had a fucking manual.”

he rolls his eyes at the easy target, but you could tell you had actually got under his skin. he huffs and stands up, slamming his drink against the coffee table; you mirror his actions, not quite finished with this conversation yet. following him through the house until you were pushing the back door he slammed in your face open, out into the cold night air. your thin dress didn’t protect you from the chill, and you hugged yourself as you looked at the man pacing around your garden.

“what the fuck is your problem, josh?”

“oh, she’s come to continue her whining! how lucky am i?” he shouts out into the night, clenching his fists and turning away from you.

“wooooow, i really got under your skin, didn’t i? feeling a little insecure, joshie?”

“y/n, shut up.”

“no, no. was i just a little too accurate? did it upset you? good. i’d like to see you try and make me cum, i need a laugh.”

“is that a challenge?” he turns his head and look at you, nostrils flared and an unknown glint in his eye.

“sure, why not. it’s not like you could actually do it.” you say with a shrug, turning on your heel to leave, finished with the argument.

a hand grabs the back of your dress, forcing you backwards. josh catches you with his arms and pulls you against his front, gripping your hips through the thin fabric of your dress.

“who said you could leave, y/n?” his breath was hot against your ear, and you could smell the joint he smoked earlier on his clothes.

“me.” you breathe, grabbing at the hands digging into the fleshy part of your hips.

“too bad.”

“what do you think is gonna happen, josh? what’s your next move?” you ask with a teasing voice, smiling when you press your ass into him.

“you think because you’ve had bad experiences, every man is the same.”

“well..yeah.”

“let’s change that.”

josh moves his hand to your arm and makes towards the door, pulling you into the house, through the kitchen and into the hallway, knowing where your room was from the many times he came to visit your brother.

he pushes you into your own room, nodding towards the bed for you to sit on.

all of the anger you felt for him had dissipated- you hadn’t expected him to actually take it seriously; all your attitude was left back in the garden the moment he grabbed your hips.

“sit back.” he commands, standing above you.

“what are you gonna do?” whispering, you were unable to find your voice, pure adrenaline running through your veins with the way he was looking at you.

“just sit back and take your panties off.”

you let your body fall against the comforter and uncertainly trail your hands to the hem of your dress, looking into his eyes for confirmation. he nods softly, eyes watching you with an intensity you weren’t used to. gently pulling the panties down, you’re shocked to feel how wet you already are- being that riled up clearly did something for you.

josh moves to his knees, stroking up the entirety of your leg and moving around to your hips, pulling your body until you were almost hanging off the edge of the bed. he moved his hands back up to your knees, pulling your legs open slowly, revealing yourself to him. when he finally slotted his head in between your legs, you could feel his cool breath on your sensitive skin and shivered.

after his tongue presses to your clit, you suck a breath in and stiffen. he licks a languid stripe against your skin, humming softly when your hands brush his hair out of his face and tangle with the curls on top. his hands were gripping your thighs and digging into the soft flesh.

his tongue circled your clit a few times and you feel your mouth begin to hang open, letting a long sigh out and looking to the ceiling. this feeling was completely foreign to you- no man had ever paid this kind of attention to you.

a moan finally leaves your mouth when he sucks on your skin, eyes squeezing shut. he wasn’t moving too fast or too slowly, just right to get your hips bucking against his face and an even louder moan piercing the room. the lewd sounds of him lapping against your core make your cheeks flush, and you hoped no one would be able to hear from outside.

your hips buck again, grinding you against his mouth. something like a growl sounds in the back of your throat when he slips two fingers into you, beginning to pump in and out of you quickly. his fingers brush your g-spot and you squeak, not used to this kind of stimulation- you pull on his hair softly, pushing his mouth harder against you and begin moving your hips in time with his fingers.

“f-fuck, josh. i think i’m gonna-“

he hums loudly, wordlessly urging you on and speeding up his fingers. your legs lift up, and you feel your hands gripping josh’s head tightly- you’re still grinding against his mouth, barely contained moans becoming trapped when you clamp your mouth shut. he continues sucking and licking at your clit, pushing you further and further to the point of no return.

“josh, fuck! i’m-oh fuck.” your voice trails off into a whisper, the force of your orgasm knocking the air out of your chest. your whole body stiffens as you topple over the edge, and you’re reduced to silence when he keeps moving his fingers through your high.

you finally gain the energy to gasp loudly, the air feeling good in your lungs once more. he slows his fingers when you start to clench tightly around them.

josh licks your clit one last time before pulling out and away from you completely, standing back on his feet and reaching down to press against his hard cock straining in his pants. you watch him lazily, trying to catch your breath and process what just happened.

“did i prove you wrong?” he asks smugly, palming himself now.

“…shut up”

he laughs, pressing his free hand against his chest. you smile reluctantly, breathing a laugh through your nose. snaking your hand between your legs, you touch your clit again and shudder, still sensitive; watching this, josh’s eyes darken and the smile drops off his face.

“on your front, ass up.” he demands, and you oblige.

the clink of josh’s belt catches your attention, the sound of his zipper going down sending a shiver up your spine. he prods a finger back into you, making you jump gently.

“ready for me, y/n?”

“please, josh.” you whisper against the comforter.

his cock presses into you and you groan, feeling him stretch you out. you fist the sheets below you. he takes a deep breath in when you grind back into him, moving your hips in circles and letting a moan out. he begins rocking his hips into you, stroking the skin of your ass and squeezing.

josh leans down to press his chest against you, the fabric of his shirt brushing your shoulders- the new angle hitting you even deeper inside. a hand brushes your hair over your shoulder, exposing your face to him.

“you look so pretty like this, baby”

you can only whimper in response, feeling a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead. his thrusts get harder, your bodies sliding and slapping together in a mix of sweat and pleasure.

“can’t believe i made you cum, guess it means you were wrong. did it feel good, pretty girl?”

“mhm, so good. so good inside me, josh, keep going.” you moan, gasping shuddering breaths through your mouth.

“that’ll teach you to argue with me like that again. y’know, you can always just ask me to fuck you next time- we don’t have to yell.”

“josh?”

“mm?”

“shut the fuck up.”

instead of replying, josh bunches your dress up with his hands and uses it as an anchor for him, pulling on it pound into you harder. an especially deep thrust sends electricity to your toes, an involuntary clench around him eliciting a deep moan from behind you- the sound sending more fire to your stomach.

“tell me how good i feel, josh. tell me.” you gasp out, angling your head to look at his face, twisted into a sinful expression.

“so fucking good, y/n. so. so. so. good.” he enunciated each “so” with a thrust and squeeze of your ass.

you can feel your body starting to get floppy, legs unable to support your weight much longer as your second orgasm fast approaches, body shuddering with overwhelm while he reaches round and presses a finger to your clit, circling it tightly to help tip you over the edge again.

“such a good girl, are you gonna cum on my cock like you did on my fingers?”

“yes-fuck, josh.”

a low moan signals that josh is almost there too, hips beginning to fall out of pace and his breathing becoming erratic. you let the sensations wash over your body, feeling transported to somewhere other than your room- the feeling of josh’s cock twitching inside of you being the only thing grounding you to the bed.

you let out a strangled moan as his fingers and cock push you into your second orgasm, letting your legs collapse as you convulse with overwhelm. josh fucks even harder into you, chasing his own high, until he finishes deep inside of you. he moans loudly, throwing his head back and biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut.

he pulls out, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before helping you get off the bed. using a t-shirt you had thrown over your desk chair, he cleans you both up and throws it into the laundry basket.

“let’s go back out, they’re still partying out there.”

“i just need to find my panties, did you see them anywhere?”

josh smiles a smug smile, patting his pocket and beginning to open the door. your mouth gapes open and you scramble after him, pulling him back into the room.

“you can’t tell anyone this happened, my brother will kill us if he finds out.” you whisper, holding his head with both hands and forcing him to look you in the eye. he flicks down to look at your lips, licking his own.

“our little secret, pretty girl.”

he presses a kiss to your lips, gripping your chin with one hand and pulling you against his body with the other. after breaking away, he faces the door and hesitates for a moment to throw over his shoulder:

“just don’t let your brother see my cum running down your leg- that might blow our cover pretty quickly.”

#greta van fleet #josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fanfiction #fanfiction #greta van fic

[ragingbookdragon]

I Saw It Coming When You Threw The First Punch

Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence

Author's Note: I honestly feel like I get my irritation from people out by writing stories where the characters punch people. I live vicariously through my characters. Enjoy! -Thorne

Getting the call that his wife had been taken into GCPD custody was not one that Bruce had ever expected to receive. Not in a million years. And yet, low and behold, Gordon had called sounding apologetic that she’d been detained after a physical altercation at the gala she’d hosted earlier that evening.

Which was absolutely baffling to him, because the only person more anal retentive about screwing up at a gala than Alfred, was his wife. So, something must’ve seriously set her off if she’d hauled off on somebody. And Gordon had made it quite clear that it was his wife that threw the first punch, though beyond that, he didn’t know what else had occurred because she’d invoked her rights to the company lawyer and to remain silent, simply staring at the wall while the other officers tried to get a story out of her—Bruce knew she wouldn’t crack. Other than him, his wife had a reserve that no man, alien, or god could break. He’d never say it, but he was envious of his wife’s willpower.

He arrived rather quickly with all four sons in tow, knowing that the sight of the entire family would probably help her chances of getting out and they waited patiently to be escorted to where she was being held.

When they arrived at the interrogation room, they saw her sitting there with crossed legs, hands placed palm down on the table. Her eyes were closed in what Bruce recognized as her deep meditative state; the one she used to fight off telepathic control from enemies—she was probably recounting what happened that night.

“What are the charges?” he asked Gordon and the older man sighed.

“Simple battery and public disturbance.”

Bruce hummed lowly in his throat and gazed at his wife. “How do you see this playing out for her?”

“If the woman she keelhauled doesn’t press charges, there’s possibility of probation with community service.”

He had to play naïve. “And if she does?”

Gordon met his gaze. “Then you’re looking at your wife going into lockup for a year.”

Bruce let out a sigh. “I’ll call our lawyer then.”

“I’ll give you and your wife some privacy,” he replied, hitting a button on the keypad beside the door, and the glass went dark while the glowing red button recording the room turned off.

“Thank you, Gordon,” he said, and the detective waved as he walked off, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him. Bruce looked at his sons. “Let’s go see what set your mom off tonight.”

***

The door to the room opened but she didn’t open her eyes, still under the cold water in her retreat.

“(Y/N),” someone murmured and though the voice was familiar, she didn’t come to yet.

“(Y/N),” they repeated a bit firmer. “Come back up.”

Ever so slowly, she allowed her mind to come back from the deep waters and she opened her eyes, smiling at her husband and sons.

“Good evening family.” Damian immediately sprinted to her and buried his face in her neck, and she laughed, running a hand through his short dark hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“You are in trouble,” he murmured and pulled away to look into her eyes. “We will do whatever you need, Umi.”

(Y/N) snorted. “Don’t worry about me baby. Knowing Little Miss Martha May, she’s not going to press charges over our spat.”

“I think simple battery is bit more than a spat, mom,” Dick worried, brows furrowing in concern. “What did you two even start fighting about?”

Her eyes darted to the glass then to Bruce and he said, “Gordon turned off the cameras.”

“Mom,” Tim started, and she looked at him; he held up his phone screen. “I just assured that you’re protected here.”

She nodded and let out a sigh. “I knew I should’ve just walked away but I couldn’t help it. She just set me off like a match to gunpowder.”

“What’d you guys even duke it out over,” Jason questioned, and she sighed again, recounting the night.

***

“You’ve thrown another wonderful party, Miss Wayne,” Lucius murmured, handing her a champagne glass.

She grinned widely, thanking him. “Thank you, Lucius, I try.”

“Clan couldn’t come tonight?”

“You’ve always been perceptive about us, haven’t you?”

“To use your words, I try,” he laughed, and she nodded.

“Patrol started early tonight,” she said inconspicuously, eyes shifting around to glance at who was walking near them. “Besides, most of them only come to these to appease the crowd.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you’re the only one who actually enjoys these.”

“Only when Bruce and the kids are here,” she corrected. “It’s easier to bullshit when they’re here to pick up the slack.”

He barked a laugh and she chuckled in return when someone walked up to them. She turned and immediately grimaced at the old classmate of hers.

“(Y/N), such a beautiful party you’ve thrown tonight,” the woman greeted, though it was laced with cheerful fakeness.

She plastered a smile on her face. “Good evening, Marianne. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Oh, you know me, I’m always up for a party.” Her eyes drifted around. “Where is your husband? I wanted to thank him for the gift basket he sent after my operation.” Marianne gave her a sarcastic smile. “Isn’t it rather off for a host to avoid his own party?”

Note to self, yell at Bruce for sending her a gift.

“He had to work late tonight. So did the boys.” (Y/N) matched her smile. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that you thought of them though.”

Something shifted in Marianne’s eyes. “Oh yes, the children you have.” She leaned in close and murmured, “You know I’ve been hearing some rather negative rumors about yours and Bruce’s decision to adopt orphans rather than have some of your own.”

(Y/N) blinked, not sure if she should be shocked or unimpressed. “Really? Care to enlighten me?”

Marianne waved a hand. “The major one is that you simply took pity on the strays because you were barren.” She felt like she’d been slapped across the face and her jaw dropped as she gaped at the woman.

Apparently, that was all the ammunition that Marianne needed because she offered a sympathetic smile an placed a hand on (Y/N)’s arm. “Oh, you poor dear.” She patted her arm again. “You should’ve come to me instead of adopting orphans. I would’ve been happy to be a surrogate for you.”

(Y/N) shrugged the hand off her arm and reached up, pulling the silver teardrop earrings from her ears. “Yeah, those orphans aren’t mine, not biologically.”

She pulled off her diamond wedding rings and handed them and the earrings over to Lucius who took them and stepped back.

“But you know what they are?” she glowered at Marianne and seethed, “They’re my sons.”

The next thing anyone knew, the two women were rolling on the floor, their hostess throwing punches that seemed to make everyone wince when they connected to the woman’s face.

***

“And all I remember was being escorted down here,” she finalized, eyes drifting to Bruce’s.

He simply stared at her for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh and put his face in his hands. “I’m proud that you defended our family, but at the same time, I’m disappointed that you let Marianne set you off.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, so you’re taking her side?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Bruce shot back. “If she decides to press charges, you’re going to be in lockup for a year.”

“She’s not.”

“You don’t know that, (Y/N).”

“No, I do,” she blinked and leaned forward. ��If Marianne doesn’t want me to ruin her image with shit she did when she was a teenager, she’ll keep her mouth shut and take the blame for this.”

“What’d she do, Ma?” Jason questioned curiously and she turned her attention to him.

“Enough that’ll disgrace her image amongst every elite this side of the globe if she tries me anymore.”

Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and they turned, seeing Gordon walking in. “Good evening, Miss Wayne,” he greeted, and she smiled.

“Good evening, Jim. How’s your night so far?”

He chuckled. “Not too bad. I got to detain my favorite socialite and listen to all my officers speculate what she did.”

(Y/N) lifted her hands palm up beside her shoulders. “I live to please, Jim, you know that.”

“I do.” He walked over and handed her a few papers. “When asked if she wanted to press charges, Marianne Walters declined. She instead gave a rather detailed statement that she instigated the fight and threw the first punch.” He stared at the busted lip she had. “Does that match what happened?”

She quickly looked over the papers and nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”

Gordon sighed. “Do you wish to press charges?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No,” she smiled. “There’s no reason to make a fuss about this.”

“…Miss Wayne, you and Miss Walters are all over the news.”

She shrugged. “And people have very short memories. They’ll forget about this.” She handed back the papers. “Send this to my lawyer and she’ll handle it with the prosecutors.”

“You think they won’t press charges despite Walters?” Gordon asked and she nodded.

“Oh, they won’t,” she said then looked at the clock. “Am I free to leave? It’s been a long night.”

Gordon let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Yes Miss Wayne, you’re free to leave now.”

(Y/N) rose. “Wonderful.” She looked at her sons. “Boys, let’s go.”

They followed her and Bruce stood from the table, standing beside Gordon. “Thank you, Jim.”

Gordon grunted. “I know (Y/N) threw the first punch.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do.” He huffed. “And I don’t blame her either.” He watched (Y/N) laugh at something Dick said while the others groaned around him. “You’ve got a good woman, Bruce. Good wife. Even better mother.”

Bruce looked at his wife and let an easy smile cross his lips as she pulled them all into hugs. “Yeah…yeah, I do, don’t I.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader imagines #bruce wayne x reader imagine #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #batmom #batmom x batfamily #batmom x batfam #batmom x batfamily imagines #batmom x batfamily imagine #batmom imagines #batmom imagine #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc imagines

[shurisneakers]

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship  <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.” 

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction. 

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves. 

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year. 

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over. 

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture. 

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.” 

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”  

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve. 

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line. 

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t. 

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up. 

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.” 

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank. 

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.” 

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on. 

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in. 

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing. 

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion. 

Nicholas?

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury. 

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly. 

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?” 

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it. 

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday. 

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table. 

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too. 

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group. 

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running. 

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces. 

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation. 

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately. 

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account. 

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop. 

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu. 

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there. 

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay. 

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you. 

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?” 

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?” 

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside. 

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense. 

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining. 

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass. 

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise. 

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.” 

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter. 

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly. 

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing. 

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing. 

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm. 

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report. 

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system. 

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board. 

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them. 

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought. 

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods. 

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.” 

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.” 

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face. 

He narrows his eyes at you. 

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case. 

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted. 

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated. 

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.” 

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial. 

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done. 

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks. 

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind. 

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots. 

There was no going back now. 

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. 

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt. 

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly. 

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.” 

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.” 

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.” 

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you. 

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago. 

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave. 

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically. 

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes. 

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability. 

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave. 

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you. 

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly. 

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future. 

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk. 

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.” 

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery. 

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.  

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly. 

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.  

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face. 

His stomach does a flip. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him. 

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?” 

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice. 

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off. 

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.” 

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator. 

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing. 

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

I'm so sorry guys, I totally forgot I completed this last August. I don't know how I forgot but thank the stranger who talked about werewolf Joseph for reminding me.

Little red hood pt2

You felt tired from your hike from the woods, you sat down by the square to rest your poor legs. You watched the bustling town move. An old man noticed you and offered to help take your luggage to the inn but you politely declined.

"So what are you here for?" He asked, perplexed by why a young woman would be sitting around the town square.

"I need to find a monster hunter, any chance the famous Lisa Lisa is in town?" You asked him.

"Oh she's been on a pretty long trip, as of now she's looking for a band of vampires who have been attacking the nearby cities" he replied.

"I don't know when she'll return" he continued before a large hand shoved him out of the way.

"Oi can you beat it wrinkles, I don't think she's looking for a has been" the familiar brunette snarky insulted the old man, who was far too intimidated to stay around.

"Well I'm not looking for an disrespectful prick" you responded to the male.

"Aw come on, are you playing hard to get or what?" He scoffed as he placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. You glared daggers at the man before stepping on his foot causing him to nearly lose his footing, which allowed you to get some space.

"Do you not know any boundaries!" You sneered as you looked at him before hearing a crowd roar.

"So what are you here for?" He asked but you chose to ignore him.

You turned your head to see a large group following a dark haired woman as she dragged the disfigured body of a creature that you couldn't distinguish from your distance.

"Hey don't ignore me! I asked you something!" The brunette shouted as he tried to reach out to grab you but you started to sprint towards the crowd.

"Just leave me the hell alone, I have some bigger priorities to sort out!" You yelled at him as you tried to lose him and catch up to Lisa Lisa. Soon disappearing into the crowd of people cheering the famed hunter.

After the people dissipated you went to get a quick drink and decided to stay at the inn as you wanted to leave the lady some time to relax from her hunt before you requested her help. As you rested yourself you couldn't help but feel something was off, like something was lurking.

Sure it could have been that creep that seemed to appear wherever you were but he didn't strike you as someone to fear, if anything he struck you as someone who was all bark and no bite. If anything you were more concerned that the werewolf was stalking you, waiting for the next full moon to attack.

🍄🍄🍄

When the cold morning came your body refused to leave the bed after a night of tossing and turning as you struggled to sleep. You ended up managing to sleep for a few more hours before heading down stairs to get some breakfast, you placed your order and took your seat at a table before grabbing a book to read. It seemed all too pleasant until that familiar face showed itself again as the male sat at your table.

"What a coincidence, but I'm not complaining since I keep getting to see your pretty face" he commented, while you rolled your eyes.

"It feels more like you're stalking me" you replied as you looked back at your book.

"Well I should say the same to you, you're probably just too nervous to admit it" he snickered.

You gritted your teeth at him as you tried your hardest to keep your cool.

"I'm only here looking for a monster hunter" you bluntly replied. You saw a smile appear on the males face.

"Well you're in luck, I'm a traveling monster hunter myself" he announced.

You had a moment of deadpan before you began to laugh.

"Wow, I'm sure you're easy bait" you snickered.

"But honestly, cut the bullshit… it's not impressing me" you continued. He seemed offended by your words. You returned back to your book once more before he slapped his hand over your book.

"I'm not lying, my grandfather was Jonathan Joestar, one of the greatest hunters to live" he protested.

"To be honest I wouldn't trust you, you seem very incompetent" you scowled.

Your eyes moved to a lady who placed your food on the table and thanked her before looking towards the male again.

"Besides I'm looking for Lisa Lisa, I know that she's a trustworthy woman who won't take advantage of my situation" you explained.

"Now will you please let me eat by myself" you hissed as you grabbed your fork and knife and began to cut up some of the toast on your plate.

"Alright but if Lisa Lisa declines I'll be waiting here for you" he offered as he stood up and pushed his chair in before leaving.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere joseph joestar #halloween au #monster au

[leossmoonn]

can i request a fic with stefan where the reader loses her memories (like stefan did in s5) so stefan takes her out to all the places that are special to their relationship and he tells her all about how they used to date and how she loved him and all and then at the end she kisses him ❤️

if not that's okay! have a good day and make sure to drink some water ❤️❤️

okay ill be honest i dont remember anything of tvd from season 4 and on bc it was just so boring to me but YES I CAN DK THIS. and thank you! i hope you have a good day, and hydrate too <33 mwah!

masterlist

warnings / includes - mild language, crying, sad stefan, kissing, eating and food, talk about sex. oh and youre a vampire and grew up w stefan and damon :)) and you’ve been dating stefan ever since you two turned into vampires and you two have been married for 50 years! (yay) . not really edited

————

“can’t you just do your voodoo magic and fix her?”

“that’s not how it works, damon.”

“well, it works whenever elena needs it. just admit it, you don’t like y/n.”

“i do! this is just more complicated -”

“bullshit! i know you don’t know her very well, but we’ve known her since she was born. she’s my best friend and the love of my brother’s life, who, by the way, is about to go into a frenzy if you don’t fix her!”

“i’m trying! but whatever those traveler’s did, i don’t think i can reverse it.”

“argh!” damon growled, putting his hands under a table and ripping it up.

“okay, you need to calm down,” bonnie said. “throwing a fit won’t help.”

“well, i can’t just stand here and watch her die!”

“she’s not dying, she’s just asleep. the doctor said she will wake up soon.”

“oh, as if the doctor knows anything,” damon muttered.

“she actually knows a lot, and we’ll give her the treatments the doctor recommends before we try any magic.”

damon sighed, running his hands over his face. he looked over to you, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. he walked over to you, holding your hand in his.

“please wake up, y/n. please.”

it seemed as damon’s wishes were granted. your eyes fluttered open, a soft groan filled your throat as you tried to move your head back and forth. you peered at bonnie and damon, brows furrowing.

“who are you? and why-why are you holding my hand? get away from me!” you hissed, barring your fangs.

“well, she definitely knows she a vampire,” damon muttered.

bonnie ignored him, coming over to you tentatively. “hey, y/n. do you know who i am?”

“no. i-i want to go home. where am i? why-why does this look so strange? hospitals at home don’t look like this,” you gasped as you looked around your room.

“is she still stuck in the 1800s?” bonnie asked.

“let’s see. uh, y/n, what’s the date?” damon asked.

“1866, right?” you guessed.

“oh, shit,” damon muttered.

“what’s wrong?” you frowned. “y/n, you’re in the 21st century. it’s 2013,” bonnie explained.

your eyes bugged out of your head. “what? how-how can this be? you’re lying! you’re some witch! katherine warned me that you would try to trick me. who are you with? wha-what do you want from me?!”

“okay, crazy pants,” damon sighed. “do you know who i am?” he asked.

you took a good, hard look. “you look familiar… like you’re from a dream.”

“good, good, but do you know my name?”

your brain scrambled for the answer, but it all came up was blank.

“no, i’m sorry.”

“well, crap,” damon muttered. “what if we get stefan? he’s been her boyfriend for like, a hundred and fifty years. plus, they’ve been married for 50. she’s got to remember him,” bonnie suggested.

“yeah, okay,” damon nodded. “go and get him. i’ll stay with her.”

“why don’t i stay with her, and you go get stefan. you might irritate her enough to make her snap your neck,” bonnie snorted.

“fine. i’ll be back in a second. try to use your powers on her,” damon asked.

“no. now go,” bonnie shooed away damon.

he left, zooming through the halls to go and find his brother. meanwhile, bonnie went to sit next to you, taking your hand in hers.

“what are you doing. i said don’t touch me,” you hissed.

“what is your name?” bonnie asked.

“y/n,” you said. “what’s your full name?” she asked.

“y/n l/n,” you answered. “why are you asking me this? do you think i do not know my name?”

“no, no. i just…” bonnie sighed. “what’s your mother’s name?”

“louise,” you said. “and your father’s?” bonnie asked.

“martin. and before you ask, my sister and brother’s names are anna and christopher. are you studying me or something? oh, my… i-i swear i’m not dangerous. i don’t feed on people. not usually, anyways. please, spare me. if you want a real vampire, catch katherine pierce. her real name is katerina petrova. or klaus mikaelson, his whole family needs to be killed. please, i -”

“i’m not going to kill you. no one is going to kill you. and katherine is already dead,” bonnie explained.

“oh, really? well, then ignore what i said about her."

bonnie smiled a little. “it’s alright. do you remember anything that’s happened in the last 24 hours?”

“no, i’m sorry. i must ask again, where am i?” you questioned.

“well, you’re in 2013. about one hundred and forty-nine years from when you were turned into a vampire. that man who was here is damon salvatore. he’s been your best friend ever since you were born. you grew up together, and he turned you into a vampire. i’m bonnie bennett. i am… i have a sort of friendship with damon. i’m a witch from the bennett line. i am here to help you. we’re friends, too, actually.”

“oh,” you pursed your lips. “i’m sorry i don’t remember you. i think i remember one of your family members, though… emma, ella, em-”

“emily, yeah,” bonnie smiled. “well, it’s good to know i’m in good company,” you sighed.

“yes, you are. oh, and there’s one more person i forgot to mention. he’s damon’s brother, stefan. he’s your -”

“y/n!”

your head snapped to the door. a handsome young man stepped into the room, worrying filing his features.

“hello?” you frowned.

“it’s me, stefan. you’re husband,” the man said.

your eyes widened. “i-i- excuse me? my husband? i didn’t know i was-” your breath hitched as you saw the ring on your finger. it was a beautiful silver ring with a blue jewel in the middle, stefan and your name carved in the middle of it.

“oh,” you gasped.

“do you remember me?” he asked, coming closer to you.

you looked back up at him, furrowing your brows as you tried to remember. you shook your head in disappointment. “no, i’m sorry. i wish i could. what happened to me that i can’t remember my own husband?"

“travelers took your memory,” bonnie answered. “travelers? l-like the evil witches?” you guessed.

“yes, precisely,” bonnie nodded.

“well, can you get back my memories? you’re a witch, right?” you asked her.

“exactly! that’s what i was saying. i’m so glad someone gets it!” damon exclaimed.

“i-i’m sorry, who are you again?” you frowned. “damon. i’m damon salvatore. the best salvatore, and your best friend,” he grinned.

“oh, right - damon. and you’re uh, you’re bonnie, correct?” you turned to the brunette.

“i am,” bonnie nodded.

“and you’re…“ you turned to stefan.

hope was shining in his dazzling green eyes. his lips were pulled into a frown, his brows furrowed as tears clouded his eyes.

“you’re stefan! my, uh, my husband whom i can’t remember. i’m so sorry, again.”

“it’s okay,” he sighed. “you just woke up. you’ll probably remember later.”

“yes,” you nodded, “that’s probably it.”

just then, the doctor came in. she checked you out, telling you that you had to stay in the hospital one more night before you could be discharged. after she left, damon, bonnie, and stefan made up a plan.

“i can’t just put her memories back. i don’t have any access to them,” bonnie said.

“can’t you just pull them out of the air or something?” damon asked.

“magic doesn’t work like that, damon,” bonnie glared.

“what if we take her to all her favorite places? places she’s been to lots of times,” stefan suggested.

“yes! that is a great idea, except for the fact that she thinks she’s in the 1800s and most things that were there have been torn down or rebuilt!” damon seethed.

“well, then what else are we supposed to do, damon! we can’t just sit here and hope that her memories will come back. what if they never do!” stefan yelled.

“shut up you two! you’re scaring her!” bonnie hit both of them, then pointing to you.

both of the salvatore’s face softened as they saw your eyes wide with fear.

“look, she doesn’t know you two yet. she doesn’t trust you two. she literally thought we were going to capture her for being a vampire. we need to just take it easy and gain her trust, which won’t be hard, i hope. but i think that stefan’s idea is great. and stefan, you should be the one to do it. you deserve to build the strongest bond with her and to spend the most time with her,” bonnie explained.

stefan smiled at her gratefully. “thank you, bonnie.”

“of course, stefan,” she smiled back at him.

“what about me! i was her friend before you were even born!” damon poked stefan.

“she was literally a baby, damon. she didn’t even know who you were,” stefan scoffed.

“oh, she did. and she loved playing peek-a-boo with me,” damon huffed.

“well, i’ve been her actual best friend just a few months after she was born. you’ve been like the brother she’s never had,” stefan stated.

“same difference.” damon rolled his eyes.

“b-bonnie?” you stammered.

“yeah, what do you need?” bonnie came over to you immediately.

“um, i need to use the bathroom.” you whispered.

“oh, yeah, of course. gentlemen, please exit the room.” bonnie said to the two men.

“alright. hey, y/n, you hungry? we can get you something to eat,” damon asked.

“yes. i’m famished, honestly. um, can i have some meatloaf, please? with some wine?” you requested.

“um, y/n, i’m afraid to inform you that -” damon started, but stefan cut him off.

“we’ll see what we can find,” stefan said.

“thank you… stefan, was it?” you guessed.

“yeah. it’s stefan,” he smiled. “okay, c’mon, lover boy. the lady needs to use the restroom,” damon grabbed stefan, dragging him out of your room and shutting the door.

bonnie then helped you out of the bed and into the restroom, waiting behind the door until you called for help.

“thank you so much. your kindness is very much appreciated.” you smiled at her as she helped you back to bed.

“it’s not a problem.” bonnie sighed with a smile.

“will you be able to get my memories back?” you asked.

“um… no. not right now, i’m sorry,” bonnie frowned.

“oh, well, it’s alright. maybe it’s for the better. i can’t imagine all the horrible things i must have done to you and your friends,” you laughed sourly.

“what do you mean?” bonnie asked.

“well, i… i overheard you a little when i was waking up. damon said that you didn’t like me much. i don’t blame you, i mean, i can be crass and judgmental, but i’ve changed over the years. i-i think, at least. otherwise i suppose i would be dead from those travelers now. no one wants to help a horrible person,” you explained.

“well, you’re not horrible, at all. for someone who has been with damon for like, almost two hundred years, you’re very kind. you’re also very funny and you try to help people the best you can.”

“oh, thank you,” you smiled shyly. “um… what do you mean about being with damon?”

“oh, he’s just um… not my favorite person to be around is all. you’ll see,” bonnie chuckled.

“i think i have, a little,” you giggled. “but he seems to care a lot about me. i suppose he’s known me since i’ve been born.”

“no, he does. honestly, like stefan said earlier, damon is the older brother you never bad.”

“and stefan, he is supposed to be my best friend and lover?”

bonnie smiled, “yes.”

“can you tell me about stefan? do-do you know him well?” you asked.

“i do, actually. he’s so kind, always wanting to help people and be the best. i swear, he works himself to death trying to be the hero. he’s very level-headed and extremely smart. he’s more mellow than damon, definitely, but he has his funny, savage moments. he’s dealt with a lot of pain in his years, and you’ve been there to experience it all. in fact, he always tells us how you are his light. it’s really sweet. i wish someone talked about me like that.”

heat crept up your neck and you couldn’t help but smile. “well, i understand why i fell in love with him, then.”

bonnie chuckled, “yeah, he’s a great guy. he’s probably more rough around the edges now than he used to be, though.”

“well, that’s what happens when you’ve lived for so long,” you chuckled. “i personally think i’ve softened over the years. i remember when i was a little girl, i used to be so quick and temperamental. my mother always tried to reprimand me, but i had a mind of my own, i guess. or that’s what my father used to say. now that i think about it, i think stefan is the reason why i have changed. he’s seemed to rub off on me.”

“wait, are you starting to get your memory back?” bonnie asked, getting excited.

“no, i’m afraid not. well, not of current things. i just am remembering things about myself. i still don’t remember damon or stefan,” you frowned

“oh, well, it’s okay. you only woke up an hour ago. we’ll give it time.” bonnie patted your arm.

“thank you. you must forgive me, i’ve always had a horrible memory. and now with mine taken away, i probably will be a burden.”

“no, no,” bonnie shook her head. “please, you’re our friend. i’m sorry if damon made it seem like i don’t like you, but i do. we just don’t spend time with each other that much, but we definitely will now.”

“i hope you don’t mind it, then.”

“i definitely don’t, don’t worry.”

you two sat in a comfortable silence, stefan and damon coming back only a few minutes later.

“so, you can’t have any wine, so we got you the next best thing: grape juice. and we also didn’t find any meatloaf, but we did find some spaghetti and meatballs,” damon said, setting it all down on the table.

“oh, thank you two so much.” you smiled. you began to get up, your feet slipping suddenly.

stefan rushed to catch you, his hands going under your arms. your eyes met his immediately, your breath getting caught in your lungs. you fell into a sort of a daze as he lifted you back up on your feet.

“my, you’re handsome,” you muttered.

“thank you. you’re beautiful,” stefan smiled.

your jaw fell open, your eyes widening. “o-oh. did i say that out loud? i am so sorry -”

“no, it’s okay. it was really nice to hear that,” he assured you.

“alright, thank you,” you smiled. “of course. my pleasure.” he let go of you, pulling out a chair.

“so, i say we compel the doctor to let you go home now so we can get this show on the road!” damon announced.

“no, they need to monitor her-”

“she’s a freaking vampire, bonnie!” damon exclaimed in a hushed whisper. he then turned to you. “you feel fine, right?”

“yes. a lot better now that i’ve eaten,” you answered.

damon grinned, clapping his hands. “see? she’s fine. i say we get her into her room and let her sleep in her bed.”

“damon, that’s not-”

“excuse me,” you interrupted stefan, peering at him through your eyes. “if you don’t mind me interjecting, i’d quite like to go home. and damon is right, i am a vampire so besides my memories, my body has healed me completely.”

stefan looked at you for a few moments, sighing before talking again. “yeah, that makes sense. are you sure you’re okay to go home? i mean, you almost slipped -”

“i am okay, stefan,” you smiled. “these floors are quite slippery with these socks on.” you moved your feet to show them.

“right,” he nodded. “okay, well, damon? i assume i can trust you to compel the doctors?”

“on it!” damon grinned, rushing out the door.

“is he always this eager to help?” you asked. “only when it comes to you,” stefan chuckled.

“well, i suppose that’s okay, for now,” you hummed.

“yes. you are our first priority,” stefan smiled.

“oh, please don’t let me ruin your daily routine. like you said, damon likes helping me. he seems to not have anything important to do, anyways, no offense.” you lowered your head sheepishly. “but he can help me while you two go to school and such. do you go to high school still?”

“no, we don’t. well, stefan doesn’t, anyways,” bonnie chuckled. “i’m going to college in the fall.”

“oh, that’s wonderful! i see the women have made lots of improvements. what are you going to study?” you asked.

“research and analysis. it’s not really a study, but that’s what i’m majoring in.”

“wow, you must be so smart, then. good for you. i wish i went to college,” you frowned slightly. “

“you did,” stefan spoke up. “oh? what did i study?” you perked up.

“literature. you went around the world teaching english and literature. part of it was to fit in as a human, but another part was because you always had a passion for it.”

“sounds like me,” you smiled. “i loved reading so much. i remember my mother had to hide my books for when we ate dinner.”

“woah, you’re remembering things now?” damon walked into the toom

“not really. i’m only remembering things about myself and my family.”

“damn,” damon muttered. “it’s alright,” stefan said. “anyways, we good to go?”

“indeed we are. let’s roll,” damon said.

stefan helped you out of your seat. you took out your IV, damon rushing you to his car.

“wow. this is beautiful,” you admired his chevy.

“i know! she’s my pride and joy.” damon sighed happily as he opened the door for you.

“thank you,” you smiled at him. he returned the smile, getting into the passenger seat.

“i’ll drive her home, i-”

“actually, can stefan drive me? i’d like to get to know him more. he is my husband, after all,” you said.

stefan’s chest swelled with happiness, his lips upturning into a bright smile.

“i suppose. don’t total my car,” damon warned stefan.

“no promises,” stefan smirked, getting in the driver’s seat. “you know i’m kidding, right? i won’t crash the car.”

“i know, don’t worry,” you smiled. “great,” stefan breathed out as he started the car.

“this is amazing technology. so much faster than the horses.”

“yep. it’s amazing how far we’ve come.”

you nodded, turning your head to look at him. you looked down at his left hand, smiling a little as you saw a silver wedding band.

“how long have we been married for?” you asked.

“50 years. 51 this summer,” he answered. “how long did we date for?” you asked.

“well, we actually didn’t date until we turned vampires. as you probably know, your emotions are heightened once you turn. and our crushes on each other were just too much to ignore, we started dating. we helped each other out a lot, you helped more than me. i mean, i-i was a wreck. with katherine turning us into vampires and all, me killing my dad, damon abandoning me. you were the only person who stuck by me. you know, you were, and still are, my light,” he explained.

you grinned, “bonnie told me that that’s what you call me.”

“ah, she’s told you about me, then. what did she say?” he asked.

“well, she said that you’re very kind and are always wanting to help people. she also said that you are smart and serious, but that you have your breaking moments. she also said that you have experienced a lot of pain. i am sorry to hear that,” you frowned.

“bonnie is very kind. too kind, actually.”

“oh, don’t say that. i happen to think it’s all true. just from what i’ve seen today.”

“thank you. i’m glad i’ve made a good impression.”

“well, you are my husband, so i would think that what bonnie said is true.”

“makes sense,” he nodded. “so, where do i live? with you, i presume?” you questioned.

“yes, and with damon. we live in the salvatore boarding house. it was built for uh, well, boarding in mystic falls.”

“do we have separate rooms?” you asked.

“u-um, no. but, if you’re not comfortable with that, there are plenty of spare rooms-"

"no," you said quickly.

stefan glanced at you, eyes wide in surprise. you chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of your neck.

"u-um, what i mean is that it is okay. i'll get to know your quicker if we share a room. just um, let me have my privacy?" you requested.

"of course, of course," he nodded. "lovely," you exhaled deeply.

you looked out of your window, observing all the people walking around town square.

"so much has changed," you said, a little nostalgic.

"i know, it's crazy," stefan laughed. "but, i'll take you to all the old places we used to go, and the new ones you have gown accustomed to."

"sounds like a deal. you know, i'm excited. is that um… strange that i am so lively after having just woken up from my memories being taken away?" you chuckled a little.

"no, no, not at all. you were always really happy and upbeat, even on the darkest days. that's one of the reasons why i fell in love with you. you may not believe this, but, i'm kind of a debby-downer. you keep it light and fun, much like damon, actually. seems as though all that time you spent with him, as young as you were, you developed someone his behaviour."

"is that a bad thing? bonnie insinuated that damon isn't a good guy," you frowned.

"no, no. you're different. you pick and choose when to be a little um… eccentric. damon just says whatever comes out of his mouth, no matter what the situation is."

"i suppose that's another reason why you love me?" you grinned. "yes, you suppose right," he nodded.

"is this the boarding house?" you pointed to the mansion stefan was pulling in to.

"yes, it is. and, you can call it your home. that's what it is," stefan said.

"alright. it's beautiful." you admired the front.

"it's even better inside. especially our bedroom. you really know how to decorate." he got out of the car, opening the door for you.

"you're very chivalrous. i like it," you giggled. "well, anything for my girl," he flashed a warm smile.

your stomach flipped suddenly, a similar feeling to your heart hammering in your chest awakened. if your heart was still alive, then you it would be palpitating and ramming into your ribcage. you smiled back at him, getting out of the car.

you two walked together to the front, stefan opening the door without unlocking it.

"do we always keep the door unlocked?" you asked. "yeah. you know, the only people we are really worried about are vampires and well, you can't get in unless you invite them in," he answered.

"oh, right. well, that's nice. we don't have to worry so much about security," you said as you stepped inside.

he nodded in agreement, closing the door behind him once you two went inside.

"wow. you're right, it is better inside," you gasped. "mmhm. so, let me show you around. this is the grand study. it was mostly used by our nephew zach, but damon killed him as soon as he got here," stefan sighed.

"o-oh. and damon is supposed to be my best friend?"

"he's better than that, don't worry. you'll see, you'll remember," stefan patted your back.

"alright," you nodded. "anyways, right here is the library's and just out here is the grand hall. here is the dining room and the living room. back there is the kitchen, and next to it is the hearth room." stefan walked you around the house.

"it's amazing. wow, and to think this is my home," you laughed. "yep, all yours," stefan smiled as he heard your laugh.

he admired you as you walked through the living room, feeling around the bookshelves and the furniture. he missed this, seeing you back at home. before you woke up in the hospital, you had been kidnapped and tortured for two weeks before the travelers dumped you in the backyard of your house. after that, stefan rushed you to the hospital and about a day later you were awake. and now here you were, making yourself at home again. you looked so pretty in the setting sunlight. stefan almost wanted to cry at the relief of finally having you home.

"show me the upstairs?" your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"yeah, yeah, of course," he nodded. he reached his hand out to you, you taking it graciously.

you both smiled at each other, stefan leading you up the stairs.

"so, up here is damon's room. that's where elena, his girlfriend, and him usually are. they have so much sex, you won't be able to get much rest here," stefan snorted.

"i'll make sure to wear my earplugs," you giggled.

stefan smiled at you, walking you to the next rooms. "these are the baths. and right here is our room. every other room up here is a guest room, but uh, this is the main event, i suppose." he opened the bedroom door, letting you peer inside of it.

he was right, you were a great decorator.

the room had green walls, bookshelves on the walls, and a few plants here and there. there was a big bed in the middle with gray sheets, pictures of the two of you hanging above the bed frame. there was a desk and chair in the middle of the room, books and papers strewn all over the desk top. there were picture of you two all over the walls, making you smile whilst also crying.

"what's wrong?" stefan rushed to you.

"oh, it's nothing. i just…" you sighed, turning to him. "these pictures are so lovely. i-i wish i could remember these events."

stefan took your hand in his, giving you a small smile. "don't worry about it. it's not your fault that you can remember.”

"right," you nodded, still disappointed in yourself.

"why don't we go and walk around town? maybe that'll help get your memories back," stefan suggested.

"that sounds fun, but i don't think walking around will reverse dark magic," you joked.

stefan chuckled, nodding in agreement. "you're right, but, you're starting to remember your own childhood. we don't know what the travelers took from you, so maybe they didn't take the memories of you and i. you might just have amnesia."

"i'd love to do anything to try and remember," you said. "me, too. before we go, do you want to change clothes? you've had these clothes on for two weeks," stefan gestured to your ripped shirt and dirty jeans.

"oh, yes. i didn't even realise i was wearing these." you looked down at your legs, eyes widening at the fact you were wearing pants. "when did they invent these?"

"1873, but women still couldn't wear them until the 19th century. and even then, women didn't wear them as regular clothing until the mid-20th century," he explained.

“well, i’m glad that i’ve stayed alive this long to be able to wear these. what are they called again?” you asked.

“jeans,” stefan answered. he walked over to your closet, opening it and presenting all your clothes. “and you have lots of jeans. so, go ahead and get changed into whatever. if you want to shower then go ahead, the bathroom is to the right.”

you nodded, “thank you. i’ll be done in a few minutes.”

“no problem. take your time,” he smiled.

you returned the expression, watching him as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

you went to your closet, running your hands over your clothes. you had lots of grey, purple, and blue shirts. you saw lots of ripped jeans, some were their regular blue and others were white or black. you chose a light purple, short- sleeved shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans. you found a pair of black panties and a black bra to match.

you went into the bathroom, turning the shower on and undressing. you put your dirty clothes in a near pile on the floor as you didn’t know where the hamper was. you set your clean clothes onto the bathroom sink, jumping into the shower.

the hot water felt so good, it was hard to get out, but you didn’t want to keep stefan waiting too long. you dried off quickly, looking at yourself in the mirror after you got dressed. you didn’t realize, but you were very dirty and tired-looking before showering. you looked better now. more awake, clean, and pretty.

you didn’t bother putting on makeup, not even knowing where you kept it. you went downstairs, finding stefan in the living room reading a book.

“i am ready,” you announced.

stefan looked up, jaw dropping as he looked over you.

“you look gorgeous,” he spoke.

you smiled shyly, lowering your head in bashfulness. “thank you. it’s not much, just a comfortable outfit.”

“doesn’t matter. you look amazing,” he shrugged.

“thank you, again.”

“of course,” he smiled. “let’s go ahead and go, yeah?”

you nodded, slipping on your shoes as you followed him out to the garage. you got into stefan’s car, driving back to town square.

“a lot of places have been built or torn down. i’m going to take you to the places we used to go to in this century, then go to the places from long ago that have been torn down,” he explained.

“sounds good,” you nodded.

he parked next to the strip mall, getting out and opening the door for you.

“are men still as chivalrous as you?” you jumped out of the car.

“no, not at all, but i like to be known as a gentleman. it sets a good first impression,” he answered.

“that’s sad,” you frowned. “it is. honestly, most guys nowadays are jerks and are selfish. no one teaches kindness anymore,” he sighed.

“well, i’m thankful i chose a man who still cares about those things. it really reflects on what kind of man you are.”

“i agree,” stefan nodded.

you two walked onto the side walk, stefan lacing your fingers together and guiding you into a store.

“this is your favorite store in the whole

town square. you always rave about the good deals and i’ve bought you lots of jewelry here,” he explained.

you hummed in reply, looking over the store. “it’s quaint. i see how it would appeal to me.”

“yeah, this store is the most popular one here, i’m pretty sure.”

“the owner must be rich, then.”

“probably is,” stefan nodded.

he then led you out of the store, explaining all the other stores and restaurants in the town square before stopping and showing you a specific place you liked.

“this is the grill, the most popular restaurant here. you and caroline, who you have yet to meet, love to sing karaoke here. you and bonnie and elena, who again, you have yet to meet, play pool here and get tipsy on the weekend.”

“what is karaoke and pool?” you questioned.

“karaoke is when you pick a song you like, and you sing it with a friend, or sometimes yourself. a lot of bars have karaoke, and some restaurants do, like this one. it’s just a fun activity for drunk people, honestly. and pool

is this game over there. you see those people

shooting the balls with the sticks?” he pointed across the room.

you studied them, seeing as they would curse in disappeared, or jump and clap in happiness.

“yes, it looks fun.”

“it is, and you’re quite good at it. maybe tomorrow you can meet everyone else and i’ll teach you how to play,” he suggested.

“i would like that very much,” you smiled.

“me, too,” he smiled back. “are you hungry? we can take a break from walking and get something to eat.”

“my stomach does ache a little. what kind of food do they have here?”

“burgers, fries, salad. classic american stuff, basically. i can order what you usually do.”

“sure, but i’m afraid to tell you that i have no money,” you sighed.

“it’s not a problem. this is my treat. plus, we have a joint bank account so, it doesn’t really matter who pays.””

“wow, that’s nice.”

“it definitely is.”

stefan then led you to a small booth, ordering immediately once the waiter came.

“tell me more about yourself,” you prompted.

stefan stared at you, not expecting you to want to know about him. it wasn’t completely surprising, but you just seemed a lot more interested in the town than him. he was happy that you asked, though. it reassured him that you two had a chance, even if you two had to rebuilt your relationship.

“okay, well, my birthday is november 1st, 1846. my favorite color is blue, my favorite type of alcohol is bourbon, but i do like a glass of whiskey every once in a while. one of my best friends was lexi branson. she was also your friend, too, but damon killed her for absolutely no reason.”

“oh, my - i am so sorry, stefan,” you gasped. “oh, it’s alright. damon has uh, since proved himself to be better… unfortunately,” stefan sighed.

you put your hand on his, looking him in the eyes.

“it’s not alright, stefan. i know you say damon is a lot better than people say, and that he has proven himself better, but that doesn’t justify what he did. i’m so sorry you lost lexi. i understand what it is it like to lose someone so close to you. i’m sure you remember, but i lost christopher only a few years after we became vampires. i don’t remember all of it, but i do remember terrorizing a whole village because of the anger and depression i felt. i’m sure lexi was an amazing young woman. one day, i would love it if you told me more about her.”

stefan smiled at you gratefully, eyes prickling with tears. “thank you, y/n. it means a lot to me. and yes, i’d love to tell you about her.”

“fantastic.” you squeezed his hand for support, the gesture warming his chest. “anyways, go on,” you said, keeping your hand on his.

“alright. well, i love i love lucy, which is a ‘50s sitcom that, funnily enough, you hated,” he chuckled.

“what is a sitcom and why did i hate it?” your brows knitted together in confusion.

“well, a sitcom is a comedy tv show. and a tv show is content that is broadcasted onto something that is called a television, which was the big black screen in the living room of our house. sitcom is a type of tv show. there are sitcoms, dramas, romance, horror, and lots of others. a lot of these genres bleed together, much like books. and as for why you hated the show, you just thought it was annoying because i would watch it all the time.”

“well, i do have a short temperament, so that explains it, i suppose. that tv show thing is a little confusing. can you show me how it works when we get home?”

“yes, of course. i can show you your favorite tv shows and movies,” he nodded eagerly.

“lovely,” you smiled at his enthusiasm. “so, what else do you like?”

“well, i am a fan of scorcese, who is a famous tv director. he directed taxi driver, which is a film i am a fan of. i love to cook, and i’m quite good at it, if i do say so myself. um, let’s see… what else is there…” he trailed off, looking at the table as he thought. “i am a bit or a hoarder, as you probably could see in our room. i enjoy any and all types of music, i have a rose tattoo on my right shoulder, and i am a scorpio, if that means anything to do.”

he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears turning pink as he realized you were staring and smiling at him the whole time.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“it’s just nice hearing all these things about you. i can piece together who you are, who the man i am married to is. it’s obvious you don’t open up to people a lot, and i appreciate you doing that with me,” you explained.

“oh, well, it’s no problem. you’ll remember all these things, anyways. but this is just surface level stuff, nothing special.”

“i think it is special and important. now that i know you a little better, i’m able to talk to you more and be more comfortable.”

“mm, that’s true,” he nodded.

you gave him a small smile, your food then arriving.

“wow, this is a lot,” you chuckled, looking at the cheeseburger and fries.

“it’s really good, too,” stefan said.

“how do i eat this?” you asked. “pick it up in your hands and take a bite, like this.” stefan took a bite of his burger and fries.

you followed in suit, groaning in pleasure.

“my, they never had this food at home. this is delicious.”

“i know, right? so glad america stopped the wine and beef soup at dinner.”

you giggled, nodding in agreement. you two ate in silence, stefan paying before you two left.

“do you want to continue going around town, or are you tired?” stefan asked.

“i want to continue,” you stated.

“alright. time to go to all the torn down places now,” he sighed, walking you back to his car.

you two drove a little ways away from town square, finding yourselves at the cemetery.

“are anna, christoper, and my mother buried here?” you asked.

“yes, they are. do you want to see their graves?” stefan asked.

you sat in the car for a few moments, holding your seatbelt in thought. you shook your head as an answer.

“no, i would hate to put a damper on this lovely evening.”

“oh, well, it’s okay. you always manage to make things bright and happy, even when we’re visiting the cemetery, but if you really don’t want to, then i’ll take you to the salvatore estate, and where your house was located.”

“mm, i am sure. we can visit some other time,” you smiled.

he returned the expression. “alright.” he got out, going to open the door for you, but you had already jumped out.

“sorry, i um, wanted to see how the door works,” you admitted sheepishly.

stefan grinned, finding your curiosity adorable. “no worries. ready to go?”

“indeed i am,” you nodded.

you took the initiative and laced your fingers with his. stefan glanced at you, his chest swelling with joy. it was almost like old times.

“so, where is the salvatore estate?” you asked.

“it’s just a mile into the woods. there’s only a singular pillar there because it got torn down, but the pillar marks the spot where the house stood.”

“why did it get torn down? it was such a beautiful home. surely someone from these days would want to live in it,” you frowned.

“you’d think that, but i guess folks these days want something more modern. but, wait, do you remember my house?” hope filled his eyes, carrying all the way through his voice.

“i think i do. it seems… familiar in my mind. i remember the front of the house, the beautiful entrance and the pretty rose bushes, the steps that led up to the door. i remember a room… it was of medium size. there was a big bed in the middle, a deep-sea blue carpet under it. there was a bug mirror across from the bed, a painting or two hung up on the walls. there was a small desk in the corner next to the closet. the room is very empty, but it brings back feelings of warmth and calmness.”

“yeah, that was my room. you spent most of your summer’s in there with me.”

“oh,” your eyes lit up. “you said that we didn’t officially get together until after we were vampires, but i remember being in the bed in lots of white, button-up shirts. did we-?” you looked to him, eyes wide and hoping he would say yes.

his cheeks were tainted pink as he nodded. “yes, we had lots of fun nights, but not all of them consisted of sex.”

“i see,” you nodded, a little smile on your face. “what else did we do besides sleep together, then?”

“well, most times we just laid there in each other’s arms. sometimes i would read to you and you would fall asleep in my arms. other times we danced, sang, talked about the future together. and let me tell you, we definitely did not imagine an eternity together, but i’m really glad it turned out that way. despite all the pain we suffered.”

your chest warmed as you imagine you two in the 1800s, doing more and being more than just friends with intimate relations.

“does damon know of this?” you questioned.

“he does, but no one else doesn’t. to make things easier, we just told everyone that we started dating after we became vampires, and that we got married in 1963, which we did.”

“and how was the wedding?” you asked.

“the best night of my life,” he grinned. “we have lots of pictures of that night in the living room and our room, which i will show you when we get back.”

“i can’t wait,” you smiled giddily.

you squeezed stefan’s hand, the gesture making both of your body’s shiver.

“here it is,” he said, taking you closer to the singular pillar.

you let go of his hand slowly, walking around the property. you closed your eyes, feeling the cool breeze fan your face. you stood in the middle, right where the living room be. lots of memories then flooded back to you, making you snap your eyes open.

“your father didn’t like us together,” you stated.

stefan furrowed his brows. “yes, how-how do you know that?”

you didn’t answer him, continuing to reminisce.

“i was meant to wed damon, yet, i fell in love with you. your mother would let us play together, knowing that the fate your father decided wasn’t going to happen. she accepted us. she actually liked us better together than damon and i. she thought damon was too wild, too untamed to settle down so young. he was like her, in that way. but you, once you saw me at our first ball at age 14, you knew i was the one. i remember you telling me this one night on my sixteenth birthday. you had taken me up to your room, sneaking up extra cake for me, and we laid together on your bed. that was both of our first time that night - it was amazing. you told me before we went to bed about your growing feelings for me. that night we both said ‘i love you’ for the first time.”

stefan stared at you, mouth agape and tears welling in his eyes.

“you-you really remember that?”

“i do,” you smiled slowly at him. “i remember the marks you left on my skin, the joy i felt as you held my hand, the way i cried when you told me that you loved me. i-i’m afraid that this is all i remember, but -“

“no, no, it’s enough. it’s more than enough,” he sniffled, coming closer to you. he slipped his hand into yours, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

you smiled, putting your free hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb up and down on his cheekbones. you looked into his eyes, studying his face as your hand went up and ran itself through his hair. you brought your hand back down to cup his cheek, your fingers dancing along his jawline.

“i also remember skipping school, playing football in the backyard, me wearing your shirt for the first time and it leading to us sleeping together again,” you giggled.

“how do you remember all of this?” he asked.

“the travelers must’ve just took all the important information about us, which we can deal with later. i want to enjoy this moment now,” you breathed out.

“thank god that they took that important stuff. it’s not that important once you think about it,” he nodded.

“i agree. i bet damon wouldn’t agree about that, though,” you joked.

“well, damon has never been madly in love until the last couple of years. but, me? i’m been in love with you forever.”

your lips spread widely and you looked deeply into his eyes, feeling yourself falling for him again.

“i love you,” you exhaled. stefan grinned, “i love you more.”

“nu-uh,” you shook your head. “mmhm,” he smirked.

you moved in closer, your nose bumping his softly. your eyes flickered down from his eyes to his lips multiple times before closing the gap. your lips met his in slow motion, immediately moving with his. his lips were soft and kissed you well, like he had done this a million times before, and couldn’t wait to do it again. he held you close against him, breathing in deeply at the taste of your lips. he felt at peace once again, whole and complete. and as for you, you felt alive.

every atom in your body was humming in pleasure. the feeling of his hands in your body, fitting right in with your curves, were like finally finishing a puzzle. it gave you butterflies, the way he tasted and smelled. the way he kissed you was delicious. it was gentle, but passionate. his lips worked against yours quickly, his tongue sliding against yours, eliciting a small moan from your throat. your teeth bumped each other gently, causing the kiss to then become fast, needy, hot.

you pulled away before anything else could commence, your chest heaving up and down. a line of spit broke off from your lips, breaking off as the breeze ran through it.

“remember anything else now?” stefan breathed out.

“just how much i’ve missed you,” you stated.

“i’ve missed you, too, baby. wanna go and see where old home was now?”

“yes, i’d love that,” you nodded. “great. come and follow me, then we can go home and i’ll make you your favorite meal, okay?” he suggested.

“that sounds amazing.”

“i’m so glad to have you back, y/n,” he squeezed your hand.

“i’m glad to be back.”

————

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[mrpenguinpants]

Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today. 

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

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Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife​  @dokidokisama @rokipersonal​@minakohasmanyhusbandos​ @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess​ @yuu-yuukurotsuki​ @hanniejji​  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii​ @stanzastic @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thicmitten​ @nonniechan​ @htnicayh​ @genshins1mpact​ 

---

Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins. 

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting. 

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.  

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.” 

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time. 

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.  

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell. 

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.” 

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes? 

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath. 

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question. 

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected. 

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand. 

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.  

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that. 

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you. 

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

---

Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha. 

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night. 

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin crack #genshin impact crack #genshin impact childe #childe x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin impact beidou #beidou x reader #genshin beidou x reader #genshin impact jean #genshin jean x reader #jean x reader #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya x reader

[binxyu]

Being the main writer for the college paper made it particularly hard for people not to be in your business because, well, you were in their’s. Thus, everyone in the school was aware of your relationship with Juyeon and Hyunjae. But, that doesn’t stop a flirty athlete from hitting on you.

>>Pairing: Lee Jaehyun x Lee Juyeon (doms) x fem!reader (sub) | athletes!jaehyun and juyeon x writer!reader

>>Word Count: 4.3k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Requested / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Choking, creampie, cum eating, cum play, double penetration, exhibitionism/public sex, harassment (not from the boys), marking, oral (giving + receiving), possessiveness, praise, saliva, and unprotected sex

The reminder you had set on your phone was not enough to take your focus off the man in front of you.

Truth be told, you were quite forgetful for a person with such a tight schedule.

Writing on your hand was tried. It didn’t really work considering you washed your hands consistently throughout the day (damn the germs in colleges), smudging the ink to an unreadable blur on your hand.

Thankfully, that’s how you had met your boyfriends. Yeah, plural. There’s an s there.

You had been rushing towards an assignment you had been given for the paper. It was a request to interview some of the top students in the music department and damn late wasn’t even enough of a word to describe how long ago you were supposed to be there.

Showing up a couple hours late resulted in most of the students already gone, hiding away in their dorms for the afternoon.

But, there were two students still waiting for you. Lee Jaehyun (although he likes people to call him Hyunjae) and Lee Juyeon.

They were your saving grace for your paper and, in return, you let them take you out on a date.

Now, months later, your relationship with them still ran strong.

But, apparently your hearing didn’t because the reminder sound on your phone didn’t even register as you write down practically everything the athlete was telling you.

He actually was a classmate of your’s and a pretty popular one at that. The whole school practically knew about him.

“And that’s how I beat the record”, you nodded sweetly, keeping that signature interviewer smile on your face. It did a fantastic job of getting people to open up and this guy was no exception.

“So, one last question, are you dating anyone?”, you weren’t asking for yourself. Especially not when you were already quite... busy... with the two men you were already dating. It was more for the majority of the female population in the school who did like him.

Besides, everyone in the school knew about you and, more specifically, your polyamorous relationship. It wasn’t seen everyday to be fair. You three stuck out like a sore thumb.

“No, I haven’t really been looking”, bullshit. You had been to the football games, the man loved to rile up the crowd. He practically chucked his shirt into a girl’s face the other night when it was “too hot”.

It was just above 50 degrees that night.

“I see. Thank you for the interview”, you smiled and he nodded, smiling back at you before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind.

“Are you looking?”, he must have noticed the shocked expression you had because his hand encased your’s, seemingly trying to soothe you as his thumb traced the back of your hand.

All it did was make you more anxious.

“No, sorry, I’m not. I’m actually taken”, there goes that reminder again but you ignored it. It was probably just your reminder to take your gummy vitamins or something stupid the boys put in there because they cared. Maybe a little too much sometimes.

“Oh, by who?”, it wasn’t a curious question. He didn’t believe you. His tone said it.

“By us”, uh oh.

Turning around, you were met with your two lovers. They hovered over you like angry wolves and you could only feel like a little lamb underneath them.

The athlete had flirted with you before and that only made the situation more intense. Of course the football player knew about your relationship. It just didn’t seem to matter to him.

Until, well, now you guess.

“You didn’t come”, shit. So, that was the reminder?

You had a date with them after this interview and it completely flew out of your mind like a paper lost in the wind.

“Sorry, I lost track of time”, they nodded and, for a moment, you thought you saw their eyes soften as they look at you but they just returned back to those icy cold stares.

Even the muscular athlete was scared. Everyone knew how possessive your boyfriends were.

It was pretty obvious after a particularly ignorant party animal laid his drunk hands on you. Before he could do anything else, he was already thrown on the floor with Juyeon’s fist landing on his cheek while Hyunjae pulled you back into his chest like he was some kind of shield.

It was hot, you weren’t going to lie, but it did make you a little worried for people you truly did just want to be friends with.

“Hey, babies, let’s go. Let’s go have our date now”, you placed each of your hands on their chests. It was a gentle move that always seemed to calm them and you smiled as you felt their heartbeats slow down, your own starting to match theirs as you felt it through your hands.

“Fine but you”, Hyunjae pointed with precision at the man, “stay away from her. She doesn’t like you and she’s said no multiple times. She’s ours” the man finally nodded and ran off while you were stuck standing there with a wave of arousal shooting to your core.

Ignore it. You can’t be walking around with marks again-

The internal scold fell short as the boys wrapped you up in a hug. You could practically feel the warmth from their anger coming off of them in waves.

“Next time listen to your reminders. We set them for you for a reason”, Hyunjae scolded you, grabbing your phone to turn off the pesky sound. You really didn’t hear it. Maybe your hearing does need to be checked.

“I know I know. I’m forgetful”, you pout and the boys looked at it, wanting nothing more than to kiss your pouty lips until they’re swollen. Juyeon just chuckles instead and ruffles your hair sweetly.

It was such a sharp contrast to how cold he looked a minute ago but you were used to it. They were usually cold to others but were exceptionally sweet to you.

Well, most of the time.

“Come on, dory. We’ve got to get outside”, that’s always been Hyunjae’s favorite nickname for you. Sadly, you couldn’t argue that it didn’t suit you.

Sometimes you even forget what your name is.

“Okay”, you nodded and held their hands, walking securely in between them. You always did feel safe with your boyfriends and being without them was honestly terrifying. They were like your bodyguards.

Out in the beautiful field of the campus was a little picnic blanket, laid out with plenty of your favorite foods.

They always loved to spoil you and, while the sight in front of you wasn’t much of a surprise considering it was their favorite form of dates, it made you happy nonetheless.

“Aw, thank you boys”, you gave them both a peck on the cheek and sat down. You weren’t much for public displays of affection.

Hand holding? That was fine. It was their way of saying that you were their’s. But, the bigger things like kissing or hugging? That was more of a private thing for you.

Those were actions you did when the three of you could safely display your love for one another without being judged because, let’s be honest, you’re not much of the outgoing type.

Sure, you have to talk to lots of people for your writing, but that didn’t mean you liked to. You actually liked to keep to yourself.

It was odd considering Hyunjae and Juyeon were quite popular due to their singing skills. Everyone wanted them but they only had their eyes set on you.

They helped you sit down, filling up your plate with delicious treats that almost had you drooling. You just realized how hungry you were when your stomach let out the most obnoxious growl you had ever heard.

Okay- maybe you also forget to take care of yourself. When you’re busy the last thing on your mind is what your body wants. Just the task at hand is important.

“Dory, do we need to start setting reminders for food and stuff too?”, Hyunjae shook his head as Juyeon handed you the plate of food. You quickly shook your head back, taking a bite of the fruit sitting on the plate in your lap.

“No, I just got busy. I’m not too hungry”, Hyunjae looked at you with the most untrusting look. He knew you and he knew that you frequently “got busy” and that meant you frequently forgot to take those vitamins or to at least drink water.

As you ate, you started to circle the important details you had written down during the interview, making a clear note in your head to add those facts into the paper.

Sad thing was: the athlete barely gave you anything to work with. Most of it was just bragging or hitting on you.

“What an asshole”, you sighed and rested your forehead on Juyeon’s shoulder. He simply chuckled and started to run his fingers through your hair. You weren’t a saint by any means but cussing was rare. You found it to be a bad habit in public while you swore like a sailor in the safety of your bedroom.

“Frustrated?”, Hyunjae asked, rubbing your back with his large palm, working the knot he knew you had. They really did know your body so well.

“Yeah, he didn’t really give me anything to work with. Just flirting”, you didn’t mean to let the last part slip out. It was just what you thinking about and sometimes that filter in your brain was clogged with all the useless information you kept there.

“Maybe you could do your report on someone else?”, surprisingly, the response was calm and you had to let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe. I’d have to ask”, you were the writer for the school but it didn’t mean you had free will. Everything had to be ran by someone else. Every decision.

“Alright, I’d feel much more comfortable if you didn’t have to talk to that guy again”, you nodded in agreement.

God forbid something go right because weeks later, after one failed attempt at switching stories, you were put on the athlete’s case once again. This time it was because he was the reason the school won against their rivals.

So, there you sat on the desk chair. You had just finished your journalism class and, ironically, the jerk was in the class with you. You both just agreed to do the interview in the classroom.

You had already told the boys about it and they promised to check in soon. You were worried but also thankful. Your gut had an awful feeling about this guy.

As you were reaching for your notepad and pen, a hand stopped you. It was wrapped around your wrist and you looked up in surprise to see the athlete’s eyes sparkling with mischief.

That can’t be good.

“Come on, no one has denied me before. Why won’t you go out with me?”, it made you scoff and you yanked your wrist from his cold, rubbing the red flesh with your other hand.

“Because I’m taken. So, drop it”, that seemed to strike a nerve. He looked furious and fear flowed through your body when he got up.

Before he could reach you, a hand gripped the collar of his shirt, lifting him up and throwing him out of the room. Juyeon rushed to you, gently wiping away tears with his thumbs.

Wait- you were crying? You hadn’t even noticed.

Hyunjae seemed to take the high road and just simply shut the door in the student’s face, locking him out.

They honestly rarely fought but when they did it was brutal. That’s why they tried to never do it in front of you.

“Are you okay? He didn’t touch you?”, you reassured him you were fine by letting him look you over, his eyes quickly looking over you as if you had some hidden life threatening injury.

After some time, you were already feeling better. The boys had made it their mission to make you laugh as much as possible in the classroom, doing silly dances and even tickling you. They just loved your laugh too much.

“Baby, I have an idea for your newspaper”, Hyunjae looked a little dazed. Well, more than dazed. You couldn’t blame him considering you had all been playing a game of cards and you sucked so fucking bad at it. Therefore, your little game of stripping if you lost resulting in the boys completely clothed while you sat there completely bare.

“And what is that?”, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. Juyeon pulled you in between his legs and wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to keep you warm. Plus, his hold was barely below your breasts and he truly did love those.

“Make it a smut”, you gasped when Hyunjae connected his lips with your’s harshly, a little more rough than usual. Then, it hit you, they held all that anger in just to use it on you.

While you would never actually write a smut for the school paper (unless you really wanted to be fired), you liked to idea of using it to rile them up. They loved your writing and, more specifically, the wonderful sex scenes you wrote.

Anytime you were busy, you’d write them one and then you’d be happy to oblige to their request to act it out when you got back to your dorm. Sometimes they were short scenes and sometimes they were long. Either way, the boys were happy to help you fulfill your fantasies.

The only difference today is that there is no prompt. They get to make up the story themselves.

“Do you want me to tell everyone how good you two fuck me? How well you stretch me out?”, just your words alone had Juyeon’s erection desperately trying to escape the confinement of his jeans. You could feel the bulge against your back and you watched as the wetness started to coat your thighs.

“Yes, tell everyone how good we make you feel”, you nodded in agreement and looked at the door, thankful that there was no windows uncovered in the room.

Finally, feeling safe, you turned around and started to unzip Juyeon’s jeans, pulling it down his legs along with his boxers. You simply tossed them, watching them land on the surface of one of the desks.

Hyunjae wasn’t far behind, removing his own clothes and doing a similar action to them, discarding them as if they were the trash beneath his feet.

“Turn around”, you nodded, turned your body back around and you immediately knew what he wanted. You leaned down to make yourself level with his cock, your eyes running over the veins and the angry red tip. Your ass was right where the man wanted it, high up in front of him.

Your lips wrapped around his shaft, running your tongue along the sides to coat it in your saliva. It always made the movements a bit easier. Juyeon groaned and dove his tongue down your slit, suckling at your clit once he reached it.

The moan you let out sent a vibration through his sensitive tip, causing his thighs to shake slightly. It was a beautiful sight.

Not forgetting about your other boyfriend, you looked up to make eye contact with Hyunjae. He licked his lips as he watched you practically gag on the large cock that belonged to Juyeon.

He was always a bit of a voyeur and, as much as he loved the sight, he couldn’t wait any longer. He sat on his knees next to you and moved his own cock closer to your mouth.

Hyunjae was bigger than Juyeon, stretching you out beyond belief but Juyeon was longer, hitting your cervix with every thrust. Both were a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. Different but well balanced.

You brought your head back, releasing Juyeon from your mouth and you replaced where your mouth had been with your hand, jerking the man off. A long string of saliva connected your mouth to his but you couldn’t care because Hyunjae’s dick was far too tempting to forget.

You wrapped your mouth around his cock now, feeling your jaw lock slightly from the sheer volume you had taken in. He was just as delicious as the previous one and you couldn’t help yourself from sucking him like he was your favorite lollipop. To be honest, he was.

Juyeon slipped a finger inside of your dripping cunt and you whimpered, listening to the sound of your pussy clenching around the digit, soaking it in your wetness.

“I think she can take both of us now”, you stopped for a moment, a little surprised. Sure, you three had discussed double penetration but you never really felt ready. Could you really handle that much?

Maybe you could.

“Let’s do it”, your words came out muffled since you were still infatuated with the taste of Hyunjae’s dick. The boys smirked at one another and Hyunjae gripped your hair to pull you off of him. Your hand instinctively let go of Juyeon’s dick too, missing the feeling of having something to play with.

You never liked to sit still but you knew you probably were going to have to after this session.

“Up here then, baby”, Hyunjae chuckled as you yelped, his arms under your body as he laid you across the desk. You winced when a pencil sharpener landed on the floor off the desk, probably breaking into pieces.

How had no one heard you before this? You had no idea.

Juyeon got up off the floor, rushing to Hyunjae’s side. Hyunjae held your thigh and pushed it open more, taking in the beautiful sight of your glistening pussy. It was his favorite work of art and Juyeon wanted nothing more than to continue the feast he was in the middle of.

“Alright, we’ll go one at a time, okay? If we need to stop then tell us. You okay with this still?”, Juyeon asked softly. Despite how cold they were, they still asked for permission and it was especially important now.

“I’m okay with it. I’ll tell you if you have to stop”, you nodded and looked up at the two. Fuck, you were so lucky.

They both had little stars in their eyes whenever they looked at you and it always reminded you that they were indeed your stars. Those little stars in their eyes only lit up when they looked at you.

Hyunjae decided to go first as the bigger of the two, gently easing his way into you. The stretch was slightly uncomfortable at first but no longer painful. You had adjusted to both of them rather quickly solo but together? That may be a bit harder.

Right when he brushed against that specific spot inside of you, you covered your mouth and moaned, gripping the edge of the desk.

Hyunjae watched you, smirking when he realized you were already becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. He loved watching you try to hold onto anything to keep your grounded to reality. He always seemed to bring you to cloud 9.

“All in. Now you’ll take Juyeon too, right? You’ll be a good girl and take him too?”, you nodded obediently and looked between your legs, noticing that Hyunjae had completely bottomed out inside of you. You already seemed so full, a bulge present in your stomach from where Hyunjae had settled.

Truly, no one could make you feel this good with so little effort but them.

Juyeon gripped your other thigh and pressed small kisses there, a gentle reminder that it was okay to stop him. That he loved you.

He sucked a few marks to the skin, making you whine because once they start they don’t stop. You’ll be covered in marks by the end of the hour.

Once you were spread wider, almost completely folded, Juyeon guided his cock in beside Hyunjae’s. Now, that hurt.

“Slower! Slower please”, Juyeon quickly nodded, noticing that your eyes were watering. He gently wiped them away and stayed still for a moment so you could get used to the stretch. When you nodded, he slowly moved again and you felt your vagina quickly adjust to the size. Like you were made to handle both.

And, now, you couldn’t stop moaning under your hand. It did very little to muffle the noises but it was your only hope of not getting caught.

Hyunjae was pressed against your g-spot as Juyeon had taken it upon himself to settle his tip against your cervix. And, inside of you, their cocks rubbed against each other in an unspoken competition to see who could go deeper.

Of course, Juyeon would win that category but that didn’t matter to Hyunjae.

Both watched their bulges in your stomach as one pulled out and pushed back in. Then, they started alternating until you were so stretched out that they could move together in perfect unison.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room as they fucked you raw, sharing you in the most perfect way. Everything felt so good that you could already feel the knot forming in your stomach, begging to be released and coat their cocks in your cum.

“You like it, hm? Does it feel good?”, Juyeon teased as he watched your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the wood beneath you. You nodded but your love didn’t like that. He gripped your throat, squeezing it slightly right where he needed to.

The blissful feeling only became more unbearable as you felt some oxygen escape your throat. Tears spilled down your cheeks before he let go, allowing you to breathe.

“Yes! Fuck, I love it!”, the boys leaned down to suck marks all over your breasts, stomach, and hips. Still easy to hide but you knew that wasn’t going to last long.

Their hips snapped against your core as they moved, Hyunjae’s pelvis bone rubbing against your clit perfectly. It made your mouth hang open in a tiny scream and you couldn’t hold it anymore, squirting all over the two as you came.

You had never done that and you were scared that they would hate it but the bright smiles on their faces made you relax. It made you feel good and that’s all that mattered to them.

As the thrusts continued, you squirmed from the overstimulation and Juyeon had to pin you down by your wrists to keep you from falling off the desk.

Their movements became more sloppy and they came together, filling up your clenching cunt with their cum. You felt way too full with all of it and their cocks still inside of you, tapping Juyeon’s arm in a silent plea.

He understood and nodded at Hyunjae, the both of them pulling out to milk the rest of their orgasm’s on whatever they could find. Your thighs, clit, stomach, chest, arms, etc. You looked like the filthiest thing they’ve ever seen and they couldn’t be more proud.

Juyeon put his clothes back on and went out to grab a towel from the locker room as Hyunjae just stared at the cum spilling out of you and down the side of the unfortunate wooden desk.

He seemed to be deep in thought as you tried to breathe correctly, his finger entering your hole without warning and you looked down to see him pull it out. He looked you dead in the eye as he licked off the mixture of cream, humming happily when he found out he loved the taste.

“We taste delicious together”, he leaned down and held your ankles as he started to lap at the cum dripping out of you, eating it up like it was a five star meal. You shivered from the feeling of his warm muscle meeting your cold skin as he licked you clean, licking his lips every time he came up for air.

“How in the world am I going to write an article when that is in my head?”, you motioned to the sight of the cum dripping down his chin. His lips were swollen and his brown locks stuck to his forehead from the sweat. He looked ravishing.

“Smut”, he popped the m for emphasis and you shook your head, letting him kiss you so you could taste it too. It tasted like the best mixture of fruit and you found yourself diving your tongue in his mouth for more.

“Oh yeah, we definitely have to stay together if this is how good we taste”, you giggled and Juyeon had entered just in time to get a taste too. He kissed you, swirling his tongue inside of your mouth before he pulled away. He licked his lips and acted as if he was critiquing a meal.

“I’d have to give my thanks to the chef”, he joked and you smiled, letting out a little chuckle as you tried to sit up but your legs were not having it and neither were your boyfriends.

They rubbed your thighs as you laid back down, trying to ease the soreness in them. Juyeon kissed your hand lovingly and your heart swelled from all the love you felt for the two.

You had no doubt that they were really the ones you were going to spend your life with.

“Looks like the school newspaper is going to have to wait. Unless you feel like writing on a cum stained desk”, Hyunjae chuckled and you huffed, knowing that that paper was definitely not going to be done by its due date.

#binxyu #lsn.works #hyunjae #juyeon #tbz hyunjae #tbz juyeon #lee jaehyun #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz #tbz oneshots #the boyz oneshots #tbz smut #hyunjae smut #the boyz hyunjae smut #tbz imagines #the boyz imagines #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #juyeon smut #the boyz juyeon smut #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut

[pa-panda-heroes]

Hey u seggsy mf 🙄☝🏻 could u do hcs for nanami, sukuna and megumi where they get into a fight w fem!reader and something bad happens to her before they reconcile? Angst that ends w fluff basically haha. Okay ily bye 😽💕

Angst with fluffy ending is apparently something I’m good at so LETS DO IT. Idk how I feel about these omg send help. I hope you enjoy!!

Nanamin, Sukuna, and Megumi fighting with reader and she gets hurt!

Nanamin:

Nanami Kento doesn’t fight over trivial things. Maybe there’s a slight disagreement, and he’ll move on, encouraging you to do the same. It’s not worth the time or energy, he thinks.

There’s not much he would argue about, actually. He’s a reasonable man, he doesn’t mind compromise where reasonable. But he likes to stick to his routine, his ways, his preferred methods.

So whatever you got into a fight over must’ve been big, something that wasn’t at all trivial enough he (and you) could brush it off, something that might have involved a life or death situation for at least one of you (and potentially a civilian or more) whilst on a job.

Nanamin doesn’t worry; he’s adept putting himself in control of a situation where need be. He plans five moves ahead of the move he’s currently making, he comes up with backup plans - he’s a quick thinker, even when his temper might be flaring at you. But he won’t do what he’s told. He has his own ways.

He’s angry, to be sure. You had made one move that totally changed the situation on top of your previous spat and everything was getting worse - even more so when you were hurt after getting separated. It looked pretty bad. You were okay until you fell unconscious, then he was worried.

He dealt with the curse as quickly as he could safely, ensuring it kept a decent distance away from the worry-inducing, unconscious you. The entire time he fought the damn thing off, he thought about your wound, whether it was superficial or deep, how much blood you lost, and how quickly he could get you aid.

Nanami pretty much gets so intent on cleaning this mess up and getting you help, that the next thing he knows, you’re laying in bed, bandaged up, and resting.

Once you’re stabilized, he’ll get you flowers, he thinks. The kind you like best. Maybe he’ll snatch your preferred snacks, if the kind doctor allows you to eat them. He can be stuck in his ways, he knows that. He has his own ways of doing things, but so do you. Next time he’ll have to figure out a way that makes you both happy.

Sukuna:

Getting into an argument with this bastard is way too easy. As intimidating and menacing as Sukuna can be, he can also be bitchy and stubborn as hell. Maybe even prissy, if you think about it.

So whatever argument you get into was very likely not your fault. Sometimes you have to wonder if he does it for entertainment, but then you hear the “human matters are trivial” bullshit that makes your blood boil. No, he’s just an ass sometimes. Well, he is a curse, you suppose.

All that said, he was always quick get over your little lovespats, and it’s not like he ever threatened or attacked you (in any way, much to your surprise) personally - it was just his attitude, usually. It’s not like you constantly argue in some never-ending cycle.

But nevertheless, when you’re arguing, you are pissed. Maybe he earned the title “King of Curses,” fine, whatever, but the entitlement it gave him was still aggravating. Not as aggravating as getting hurt, though.

...although, that wasn’t half as aggravating as getting hurt and... needing his help. You’re going to avoid that like the plague, you tell yourself, trying to sew up your side on your own. That’s what you get for trying to go solo, you supposed. You were up for it, you knew you were! How did this happen?

Thankfully the wound was superficial enough, but it’s hard to do when your hands won’t stop trembling. Doesn’t help that it hurts and you’re light headed, probably from blood loss. Maybe you’re crashing from the adrenaline spike of battle. Who turned the lights off?

Apparently you’d passed out. And apparently, he helped you out, because when you awake you see that shit-eating grin sitting across your bed. You can tell him to shoo all you want, but it won’t work. You’re stuck with him, now, and he’s going to give you so much grief, because he told you not to do the mission solo. And he was right. He’ll never let you live it down.

You pout and refuse to say anything, crossing your arms and looking away. He teases you and gives you a proud “I told you so,” yet you still say nothing. He lets you rot in silence, although his patience fades away and he makes his way to you, grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him as he plants a tiny kiss to your forehead. You’ll never let him live that down, you decide.

Megumi:

Pretty boy here is fairly quick to argue. When he wants something done, he wants it done his way and usually his way only. He can be argumentative. Dare you say that’s the Zen’in blood in him? Anyway.

He does get to a point where he’s just, done arguing and sometimes gives up. Most of the time he’ll suggest you both take a breather and come back to the issue later. But this time he just kept going, to the point you forgot what the initial problem even was.

Megumi didn’t, though. He told you another sorcerer had his eyes on you in a very not professional manner, and you simply scratched your neck and told him you not to worry and that you didn’t think so. No, he knew so, and he was a little hurt you blew him off like that.

Maybe his jealousy and lack of sleep was clouding his judgement, because he told you how he felt, and when you became defensive he just continued arguing. Megumi wanted the point across, he wanted you to look out for yourself more - there are guys out there you ought to be wary of.

But because his brain shuts down when it comes to you, he didn’t get that point across like he wanted. Instead, he came off as aggressively jealous and, quite frankly, a bit of an asshole.

He’s not a possessive boyfriend at all, you know this by now. But seeing another guy after the oblivious you had him seeing red. Honestly, he didn’t trust the other guy even before you met him. He was a half decent sorcerer, but he was just in it for the money.

To say that Megumi felt like banging his head against a wall was an understatement. So when he finds you in the hospital hurt, he feels even more like utter shit. Flowers weren’t enough. No, not chocolates... Animal plushies? No, that’s not it. He wracks his brain but falls short. Use your words, Megumi!

Finally he gives up and decides to talk it out with you. Luckily for him, you realise what he was trying to say for the most part, so he doesn’t have to trip over his own tongue explaining. With a sigh at his fortune (that you picked him of all people), Megumi sits on your hospital head and pulls you close for a hug. Your bedside table is bare and the room is honestly boring. Maybe flowers weren’t a bad idea, after all.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #fushiguro x reader #nanami kento #ryoumen sukuna #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #nanami kento x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader

[faggyangel]

It’s cold and dark, winter raging outside of their broken down home on South Wallace and Fiona’s little brother recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She picks up a laundry basket and heads upstairs, rubbing her eyes and running a hand through her tangled, greasy hair. She needs to brush it, she needs to take a shower, she needs to sleep. 

But she can’t. She has laundry to do and bills to pay and meals to make. She has to take care of her little brother who she can't seem to reach. She wants to help, to monitor him, but every time she tries he pushes back, the rift already forming between growing with every worried glance and pill check. 

She saw what happened to Monica, she experienced it first, she picked up the pieces with every depressive or manic episode. She was the one who stepped in every time Monica left. Even though each time, a little piece of herself was taken with her. She knows the kind of pain caused by this diagnosis, not only to the people around the person with it, but the person themself.  

So sue her for being concerned. Sue her for being overbearing. Sue her for being an older sister stricken with experience in this field. 

She snaps back to herself when she runs into Mickey Milkovich, said little brother’s boyfriend. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she yelps, startled by his presence. He’s been staying with them, whether because of Ian or because of his own issues, Fiona’s not sure. All she knows is this is just another mouth to feed and ex for Ian to cry about. 

And if you ask her, he isn’t worth it. Mickey’s just gonna leave as soon as he realizes this takes work. He’s gonna break her little brother’s heart and tear him to shreds just like Milkovich’s do. But she’s stuck with him, this intruder welcomed by a vulnerable Ian who’s intrigued by his dangerous nature. That’s all this is, Fiona knows because she’s been there. 

“Fuck, be quiet,” Mickey rubs his eyes, the bags underneath dark and obtrude. 

Fiona opens her mouth to argue because are you fucking kidding me? You’re living in my house and you tell me to fucking be quiet? But just as she does so, Mickey points back to the room he had just stepped out of. 

“Ian just got to bed,” Mickey looks back at the ajar door. Peeking through the crack is a fluff of red hair and pale, chubby cheeks squished against a pillow. Fiona tilts her head at the sight, she remembers putting him to bed, the only way to get him to settle down was to give him a book to read. She called him sweetface, kissed his cheek, tucked him in tight and promised to not let the monsters bite. He would giggle and tell her that he’d protect her. 

That giggle. She would give anything to hear that giggle again. 

She shakes her head and looks back to Mickey, seeing him gaze at Ian with a similar sort of fascination. 

He turns back to her and looks down at the basket she’s holding, “You need help?” 

Fiona quirks an eyebrow, “You wanna fold clothes?” 

He shrugs, “Did it all the time to help out my ma,” Fiona apparently shows how taken aback by this she is because he immediately throws up his arms, “Unless you don’t fucking want me to,” he still keeps his voice down in a hushed tone so as not to disturb Ian who stirs slightly and pulls the blanket up over his head, snuggling deeper into it. 

Fiona doesn’t say anything more, she just jerks her head downstairs and sets him up in the living room. With that job out of the way, she slips back upstairs to find more dirty laundry to throw in the washer but she gets distracted. She finds herself leaning against the door frame of Ian’s room, staring at him. 

She watches as he squishes his face deeper into the pillow and twists around in the blanket. She watches with intense affection as her heart aches. She just wants him to be happy, that’s all she’s ever wanted for her kids. She can’t stand the thought of Ian being lonely or curled up crying like she was last night. 

She watches hoping she didn’t do a bad job but something inside her tells her to doubt herself. Fiona’s never been particularly stable, yeah, probably the stablest thing they’ve ever gotten but that doesn’t say much. Her relationships are flakey and her self depreciation always comes leaking through. 

Maybe Ian will do better. Maybe Mickey will be good for him. 

But maybe he won’t be. He is a Milkovich, she knows that family of thugs and criminals and abusers. Fiona ran into their father a couple times, him always scowling yet looking her up and down with hunger in his eyes. If that’s what Mickey’s been taught, then how does she know he'll be different? What if he hurts him or gets him involved in Milkovich bullshit? 

What if she can’t protect him? She needs to protect him. 

“Hey, all your shit’s folded,” Fiona turns around to see Mickey holding up a basket of neatly folded clothes, “I didn’t know whose shit was whose aside from Ian’s so I just guessed.” 

Fiona nods and takes it from him, she’s about to walk off and sort the impressively folded laundry when Mickey speaks. 

“Does this shit get easier?” He says it quietly, almost as if he hadn’t meant for Fiona to hear. But she does. 

“Hopefully, yeah,” Fiona answers honestly, making Mickey turn his head, his eyes shining with the hint of tears. 

He sniffles and crosses his arms, puffing out his chest and turning back to Ian. Fiona scoffs and watches him walk back to Ian. Ian gently stirring at the footsteps. 

“Ah shit, man. Did I wake you?” Mickey asks not as quietly as before but still soft. Ian shakes his head, lifting up the covers for Mickey to slide in next to him. 

Fiona walks downstairs before realizing she forgot to gather up the dirty laundry. Sneaking back, she overhears conversation from Ian’s room. 

“Fucking jackass,” Fiona’s ears perk up immediately. It’s Mickey’s voice. Then she hears rustling. 

She switches into Fiona mode as her kids have begun to call it, her mind flies to the worst possible conclusion. Mickey sounds mad, maybe they’re fighting. What if Mickey hits him? What if Mickey’s hurting him?  

Then she hears a sound she hasn’t heard in so long. A sound she would have given anything to hear again. 

Ian giggles. 

That bright, affection giggle. She can almost picture his scrunched up nose, his face lifting, unable to contain his glee. 

She peeks her head into the room just for a second. She sees Mickey leaning on one elbow, tugging, no, playing with Ian’s hair. He flips it into his eyes and twists it around his finger. Ian stares up at him with a glaze that’s coated in warmth and affection. 

Then Mickey spots her and tugs his hand away. 

“Just wanted to see if you guys needed anything. Mickey,” his demeanor returns back to defensive and something about his impulsive need to cover makes Fiona’s heart ache, “You can help yourself to snacks, just be careful with the cabinets, they’ve been known to snap off from time to time, alright?” 

Mickey nods stiffly, Ian chuckles softly at his awkwardness. 

“Okay, after I sort these, I’m going to bed, wake me if you need anything, sweetface. Don’t stay up too late,” she closes the door but her instincts kick in again so she opens it one more time, “And keep it over the covers.” 

Mickey’s face goes white and he stammers, a rare trait in a Milkovich reminding her that he’s still a teenager. Albeit a teenager with a record and knuckle tats, but a teenager nonetheless. And if he can make Ian laugh like that, make him forget for a moment where they are, then he’s welcome in her home anytime.

#shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fiona gallagher #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #summary: fiona is stressed and doesnt trust mickey but helps out a little and makes ian laugh a whole bunch and fiona changes her mind <3 #literally just mickey and fiona are both amazing and ian deserves to laugh <33 #margo writes

[august-anon]

We Can Try

Oh look it's my favorite trope again lol. So, this takes place when Aizawa and Mic are like, early 20s, so it's technically pre-canon to BNHA but I guess not pre-canon to the Vigilantes stuff? But I haven't read that yet so who knows if it lines up lol. Also, this has been done since like February, but I haven't posted it yet because there's supposed to be a sequel and I still haven't even started it after all these months lol. We'll see how soon it gets done

---

Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Mic/Ler!Aizawa (brief Ler!Mic/Lee!Aizawa)

Word Count: 4345 words

Summary: Hizashi comes clean about something he's been craving for a long time, and Shouta is more than happy to assist. There’s just one problem... Hizashi’s convinced it won’t work.

[ao3 link]

-----------------------------

It didn’t take long after their confessions for Hizashi and Shouta to find themselves tangled together on the couch, lip-locked. Hizashi had honestly thought it would take far longer, considering Shouta’s preference to take things slow, but Hizashi certainly wasn’t complaining as Shouta’s kisses got more and more heated. Maybe being best friends for seven years before finally admitting to their pining removed a few steps from the equation.

Not that Hizashi wanted to go any further than making out that day. And luckily, it seemed as though Shouta was on the same page, so Hizashi didn’t feel any pressure as he slowly pushed Shouta onto his back and straddled his hips, changing the angle of the kiss. 

Shouta let out a tiny, pleased hum and Hizashi couldn’t suppress the bubble of joy in his chest, his smile almost breaking their kiss. Shouta reached up and gripped his hips, and it was Hizashi’s turn to gasp into Shouta’s mouth, trying to push himself even closer. Shouta’s hand slid under his shirt and up his bare back and Hizashi shivered, Shouta surging forward to swallow another little gasp escaping from his lips.

Damn, Hizashi thought. Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?

Finally feeling a bit more stable in their new position, Hizashi moved his hands from where he’d been holding himself up on either side of Shouta’s head. He dragged them down Shouta’s chest and slipped them beneath the hem of his shirt, gently dragging his blunt nails up Shouta’s sides.

And then Shouta flinched and pulled away and the only thought running through Hizashi’s head was oh no, I fucked up.

But then Shouta’s quiet laugh filled Hizashi’s ears and his heart was thrumming for a reason entirely separate from fear. Though Hizashi was hesitant to think it so early on (although, was it really that early on when Hizashi had been falling for him for the better part of a decade?), a certain L-word came to mind at the gentle sound.

Hizashi was forced out of his reverie as Shouta’s squirming under him got more and more pronounced and his hands finally stopped squeezing his hips so that they could try and remove Hizashi’s hands from his sides.

“No tickling allowed!” He stuttered out through his giggles.

Hizashi grinned, trying to ignore the swooping in his stomach and the butterflies in his heart. He especially tried to ignore the mischievous, playfully predatory thoughts that were beginning to fill his head. While he didn’t remove his hands from Shouta’s sides, he did press them flat against the skin in an effort to stop the accidental tickling.

“Sorry,” Hizashi said, knowing he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I honestly forgot you were ticklish, was it always that bad?” 

Shouta scowled and crossed his arms as best he could with Hizashi sitting on top of him with his hands buried under his shirt.

Hizashi bit his lip on his grin as the thought, I know how to make that smile come back, came to his mind entirely unprompted. He carefully kept his hands still and flat against Shouta’s skin.

“No,” Shouta bit out after a moment. “It was never that bad when the others got me.”

Hizashi couldn’t help how his grin widened. “Aw, babe! Are you saying I’m special?”

A light flush came to Shouta’s cheeks that was entirely unrelated to their previous activities and Hizashi let out a fond little coo on the tail end of a laugh. Shouta apparently decided that that was the last straw, and started trying again to push Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt.

“No, I’m saying you’re a nuisance.”

Hizashi bit his lip again. He could still see the traces of a smile in Shouta’s face. Though his mouth was stern and his jaw was set, his eyebrows weren’t all bunched up and the skin around his eyes was still crinkled as if he was smiling. That, plus the fact that he really wasn’t putting that much effort into shoving Hizashi away (seriously, the man could have Hizashi pinned to the ground in seconds, and yet was having trouble getting Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt? Hizashi called bullshit), assured him that Shouta was far from angry at the situation. In fact, it seemed like they were both still having fun.

So Hizashi made a calculated risk, hoping Shouta wouldn’t kill him for it later.

He let out a fake gasp and made the most overly dramatic affronted expression he could. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend, Sho?”

Shouta’s eyes widened and he froze. “Wait, ‘Zashi--”

Hizashi did not, in fact, wait.

His hands immediately morphed back into claws, only this time the tickling was a lot more purposeful than before and Shouta was laughing a lot harder. His hands scrabbled weakly at Hizashi’s through the fabric of his shirt, but the effort was quickly abandoned as Shouta slammed his arms to his sides to prevent Hizashi from crawling any higher up his ribcage.

Hizashi could listen to Shouta’s laugh all day, if he could. It was a quiet sound, always making Hizashi go silent when he heard it so he could absorb it all. No matter how hard he laughed, it never got any louder, just more intense, and Hizashi almost thought it was funny how well Shouta’s laugh suited him.

Not to mention the smiles it drew out of him. Shouta rarely smiled for real, making good use of that feral smile full of shark teeth, a look he’d perfected in high school to scare off his bullies. Or, if he did smile for real, he would duck his head down and bury it in the capture weapon that was a near-permanent fixture around his neck.

But right now, that smile had nowhere to hide, and Hizashi was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Deciding trying to get into Shouta’s underarms was a futile effort, Hizashi instead began moving his hands down. Shouta’s eyes widened again and Hizashi knew he was on the right track. He couldn’t help but let out an evil little chuckle, though he quickly fell silent again afterwards to continue relishing in Shouta’s laughter.

And then Shouta snorted when Hizashi reached his hips, bucking hard and squeezing his eyes shut. Hizashi dug in, sure he had found the jackpot and began to crow in delight, when suddenly he found himself as the one with his back to the cushions, Shouta crawling on top of him with a playfully threatening expression.

“You’re so dead, Mic,” he growled, though it wasn’t nearly as frightening as Shouta was probably going for, thanks to all his panting.

Hizashi gulped, feeling that swoop in his stomach once more, but it was quickly overpowered by his premature feelings of disappointment. He tried to mask it as Shouta leaned over him, keeping his smug grin firmly in place, but judging by the way Shouta narrowed his eyes, he could tell something was up.

Shouta hummed, leaning in closer. “Where are you ticklish then, ‘Zashi?” Shouta’s hands came to rest on his sides, fingers curled so the points pressed into his flesh. “If you tell me now, I might go easy on you.”

Hizashi flashed back to all the times Nemuri tried to tase his sides or ribs and failed, only serving to spook him and not make him laugh. To all the times Tensei grabbed at his knees, whether in revenge or to shut him up, and Hizashi didn’t even so much as twitch or crack a smile (well, at least not one related to the attempted tickling). To all the times the two (and even Shouta, on occasion) had dogpiled on top of him and dug tickling fingers into his flesh to try and win a tickle fight only to garner no reaction.

“I don’t know,” Hizashi said honestly, fighting to keep his face playful. “I don’t think I am, really.”

Shouta narrowed his eyes. “You may have been good at hiding it when we were younger,” he said, fingers twitching, “but there’s no damn way you aren’t ticklish.” 

And then Shouta punctuated the end of his sentence with a squeeze. It was probably timed to try and catch Hizashi off guard so he would laugh, but nothing happened. Hizashi felt his unbothered facade slipping.

“Told you, babe. I guess I’ll just be winning all the tickle fights in this relationship. Good thing you have the best laugh ever! I could listen to i--”

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Shouta said, blunt as ever.

Hizashi scrambled for a moment. He could lie. He could say Shouta read him wrong (like that would ever happen), or that he felt put-out for losing and getting pinned so easily. Or he could distract Shouta, get them to start making out again so the interaction would slip his mind. He could come up with some lie--

But could he?

This was Shouta he was talking about. Shouta, who had never judged Hizashi once in their lives. Shouta, who filled the spot of best friend before Hizashi could even blink. Shouta, who he’d been pining for since they were fifteen. Shouta, who was now his boyfriend.

And best friends turned boyfriends deserved the truth.

Hizashi stuttered for a moment, trying to get his voice to work the way he wanted it to, before he managed to force out, “Can I-- Could we have this conversation… without you on top of me?”

The words had barely finished leaving his mouth before Shouta was off of him. Hizashi quickly sat up, leaving the rest of the couch now free from his long legs. He winced when Shouta sat all the way at the other end.

“I didn’t mean that far,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands.

After a moment, the couch cushion dipped next to Hizashi and Shouta’s thigh came into his field of vision. Then, so did two hands that reached out to grab his own, stopping him from picking his cuticles raw and bloody.

“Hizashi,” Shouta said, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Hizashi plastered on another one of his grins. “I’m fine! It’s just…” His grin faltered. “It’s not something I’ve ever really talked about before?”

“Well, I’m a good listener.”

This time, Hizashi’s grin was far more true. “And don’t I know it,” he replied, leaning over to peck Shouta on the cheek.

Shouta leaned in before Hizashi had fully pulled away and nuzzled his nose into Hizashi’s cheek. “Take your time.”

Hizashi took a few moments to breathe as he thought of where to start. Shouta, true to his word, sat quietly and ready to listen. Every few seconds, he would run his thumbs over Hizashi’s knuckles or squeeze his hands, like he was trying to let Hizashi know that he was still there.

“I have this thing,” Hizashi said, and then immediately winced at the terrible wording.

“A thing?” Shouta prompted when he didn’t start up again.

“I--It’s just--I like--” Hizashi cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “It’s so embarrassing to talk about.”

Shouta nuzzled his cheek again.

“I was disappointed because… I like it.” Hizashi spat out the words like they were acid, but once they were out, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “I like tickling. It’s just, it seems fun. It’s fun to do with friends, to do to them at least. I just… I want to be tickled, it looks like it’s so much fun, but it never works, it’s never worked. And and every time someone tries, I know it’s not gonna work, but it still upset me every time, and it’s so dumb--”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Shouta said, voice firm, and Hizashi’s heart stopped dead. “It’s not dumb.”

Hizashi looked up. Shouta placed a hand on his cheek and gave him one of those rare small smiles.

“It’s not, ‘Zashi. It’s perfectly reasonable to be disappointed about something like that. Anyway, I don’t think you have to be embarrassed about liking tickling, I don’t think it’s weird.”

“You don’t?”

Shouta grinned at him, moving his hand back down to squeeze Hizashi’s fingers again. “It’s pretty cute, ‘Zashi. I mean, tickling? That’s adorable.”

Hizashi couldn’t stop the embarrassed grin that spread across his face even as he felt his cheeks start to burn. He tried to tug his hands back to hide his face but Shouta wouldn’t let go, so instead he brought their joined hands up to attempt to hide his face.

Shouta hummed. “I know I said you didn’t need to be embarrassed, but really, I think you’re pretty damn adorable like this.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, ‘Zashi?” Shouta asked, but this time he put a teasing little lilt in his voice that made Hizashi’s stomach do somersaults. 

Hizashi didn’t bother replying, simply burying his face deeper into their joined hands.

He heard Shouta chuckle fondly, but soon after, Shouta leaned in closer and spoke in a much more serious tone, “Hey. I know you don’t think it would work, but we could try?”

Hizashi peeked his eyes out from behind their hands. “Try?”

Shouta shrugged. “I was more ticklish with you than I am with Tensei or Nemuri. Maybe the same is true for you?”

Hizashi hated the traitorous hope that built up in his heart. “Really?”

“Let’s move somewhere with a bit more room, yeah?”

Shouta stood and pulled Hizashi up with him, carefully leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He kept a careful eye on Hizashi the whole way, and Hizashi knew Shouta was trying to read his microexpressions, making sure he was on board with what was happening. And it just so happened that Hizashi was more than on board with the current line of events.

“We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to,” Shouta said as he opened the bedroom door. “We can do it later, or never.”

“Nope,” Hizashi said, with far more confidence and conviction than he was feeling. “You got my hopes up, you’re going through with it.”

Shouta gave him another small smile before a devious look entered his eyes. Hizashi didn’t even have time to react before Shouta had swept him off his feet, making Hizashi squeal, and tossed him onto the bed. Hizashi couldn’t help but laugh as he bounced on the mattress, Shouta climbing up after him. Shouta’s playful side was something heavily guarded, and to this day, Hizashi still felt giddy every time he got to experience it.

“So,” Shouta said, settling over his hips again. “What should I do to you?”

Hizashi hummed happily, a giddy bubble settling into his chest even as the words sent another round of swooping butterflies through his stomach. He reached out and slid his hands up under Shouta’s shirt to grip his waist, needing to be close to him. Of course, he couldn’t help but teasingly brush his thumbs at the edges of Shouta’s stomach just to watch him jolt.

This time, Shouta reacted much faster. Before Hizashi could blink, his wrists were nabbed and pinned above his head by one of Shouta’s hands. Hizashi gasped and squirmed, trying to escape, but Shouta had always been much stronger than him, relying far more on hand-to-hand combat than Hizashi did with his own quirk.

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” Shouta growled.

“Maybe,” Hizashi muttered, looking away.

Shouta let out a low chuckle that sent shivers down Hizashi’s spine for multiple reasons. Against his better judgement, Hizashi met Shouta’s eyes.

“It’s so cute to watch you squirm.”

The current turn of events was entirely unfair, in Hizashi’s humble opinion, especially with how much more he started to squirm with Shouta’s statement alone. He hadn’t teased Shouta earlier, when he’d been drawing the laughter out of him. How did Shouta even know how to tease like this?

And despite logically knowing he wouldn’t feel a ticklish thing, Hizashi still gasped when Shouta slid a hand under his shirt to grip his side, much like Hizashi had just done to him. He, too, rubbed his thumb against Hizashi’s skin teasingly, though the touch was firm enough that even the most ticklish of people wouldn’t have twitched.

“I might just keep you like this for a while,” Shouta hummed, eyes scanning down his torso. “Face all red, looking so nervous. If you keep biting your lip like that, you’re going to split it.”

Hizashi grumbled wordlessly, trying to bend his elbows in to cover his face, which, true to Shouta’s word, was steadily growing redder. Shouta caught him and eliminated the possibility immediately, tugging his arms up even higher so he had no slack to shield himself with.

“You don’t get to hide. It’s not often I get to see the great Present Mic so flustered.”

“Shut up!” Hizashi whined.

If he had been wanting to be tickled before, he was craving it now. While Hizashi had explored plenty online and certainly knew that teasing words would affect him, he had no clue that it could be so unbearable when implemented in real life. The nervous, anticipatory, fluttery feeling that started in his stomach had begun moving up into his chest now, as well. He felt like a big ball of nerves. He was torn between hating it and loving it.

Shouta hummed. “You were clearly enjoying yourself when tickling me,” he said, leaning in to purr directly into Hizashi’s ear. “I think it’s only fair that I have a little fun of my own.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

“Just-- Will you just test it already?”

The thumb rubbing against his side halted and Shouta raised an eyebrow. “Test what?”

Hizashi threw his head back (as much as he could while he was laying down with it on a pillow, at least) and groaned. “Please don’t make me say it again!”

Shouta buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, and Hizashi could feel the grin against his skin. “No, I think I will. Ask nicely, then we’ll try.”

“Please?” Hizashi tried, despite knowing Shouta wouldn’t let him get away with just that.

“I know you can do better than that, Hizashi,” Shouta said. “Come on, full sentences. You’re a radio host, aren’t you? Talking is your job, surely you’re better at it than that.”

Hizashi groaned again and then tilted his head so he could bury his face in Shouta’s mane of hair.

“Will you please try tickling me?” He mumbled.

“Good enough for me,” Shouta said against his neck, then immediately began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the skin.

Hizashi hummed and let his eyes slide shut, tipping his head back to give Shouta more access, despite not understanding his motivations since Hizashi was supposed to be getting tickled right about now. Shouta made an approving noise, bringing his teeth into the mix and sucking at the skin before quickly soothing the spot with more kisses. At least Hizashi’s directional speaker hid his neck, he didn’t want to try explaining that one away to the press.

One hand still kept Hizashi’s wrists securely pinned above his head, and Hizashi found that entirely unfair. Shouta knew he liked to use his hands a lot when kissing or making out, and he couldn’t help but try to wiggle them free to at least run them through Shouta’s hair. Shouta gave his wrists a warning squeeze and Hizashi took the hint, stopping his struggles.

Shouta eventually made his way up to Hizashi’s ear, a spot that never failed to make Hizashi melt. Shouta had figured that one out quickly, much to his chagrin. Hizashi still hadn’t found any similar spots on Shouta, yet.

Hizashi melted into the mattress with a sigh as Shouta lavished affection around his ear, just the way he liked. Then, Shouta did something he’d never done before, that none of Hizashi’s lovers had ever done before. He drew Hizashi’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it ever-so-slightly.

Hizashi’s eyes flew open as he choked on a gasp, his body attempting to jolt away from Shouta. An involuntary smile fought onto his face and Hizashi couldn’t help but bite his lip to try and diminish it. Was this…

Shouta dropped Hizashi’s earlobe to murmur into his ear, “Oh? What was that? I thought you weren’t ticklish, Sunshine.”

Hizashi oddly felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, but in a good way. His stomach was doing somersaults, and it felt like there were butterflies floating underneath his ribs. He sucked in a breath as Shouta pressed a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear before pulling back, releasing his hands as well.

“Well,” Hizashi said, his voice far softer than intended. “That’s one spot.”

Shouta smiled, slowly pushing Hizashi’s shirt up. “It is. Shirt on or off?”

Hizashi’s blush flared up again and he bit his lip. “Um. On?”

Shouta nodded, leaving his shirt bunched up just above the base of his ribcage, leaving his sides and stomach exposed.

“Okay?” He asked.

Hizashi nodded and relaxed a little. He relaxed even more when Shouta reached up to brush his thumb against Hizashi’s cheekbone.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Hizashi grumbled.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Shouta said. Then he smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t let up until you’re nice and relaxed.”

Hizashi let out an embarrassed smile and covered his face with his newly-freed hands. Shouta laughed and leaned over him to kiss the backs of his palms.

“Keep hiding like that and I’ll have to tie you up,” Shouta said, clearly teasing.

And yet, despite Shouta likely not meaning it, Hizashi’s breath left him. Shouta froze.

“Do-- You would want that?”

Hizashi made an embarrassed noise. “I mean, not now, but… maybe? Another time?”

Hizashi peeked through his fingers to see Shouta biting his lip.

“We… can talk about that later.”

Hizashi nodded, and Shouta rolled his eyes. He pulled Hizashi’s hands away from his face, gently pushing them away from his torso.

“I want to see you.”

Hizashi pouted. “Now that’s not fair.”

Shouta grinned. “It’s perfectly fair.”

Hizashi resisted the urge to cross his arms or cover his face, instead fisting his hands in the bed sheets several centimeters away from his torso. Leaving plenty of room for Shouta’s hands on his skin.

“Tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” Shouta asked, laying his palm flat on Hizashi’s stomach.

Hizashi took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Out of nowhere, Shouta’s other hand pinched Hizashi’s side. It startled him, making him jump, but it didn’t tickle. While he was distracted by that, before Hizashi’s disappointment could set in, all five fingers of the hand on Hizashi’s stomach started scratching away at his abdomen. Hizashi gasped and his hands instantly flew up to his mouth.

“Don’t hide your smile, ‘Zashi,” Shouta murmured. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You can’t just say things like that!”

Hizashi twitched as the scratching fingers started searching out sensitive spots, Shouta’s other hand coming back into the mix and wiggling ever-so-lightly at the side of Hizashi’s hip, where his sweatpants had ridden down. Hizashi bit his lip on his smile under his hands, feeling giggles build up in his chest as he held his breath.

And this was it, Hizashi realized. This was what he’d been missing all this time. This maddening sensation that made him want to move closer and squirm away all at once, this was what he’d been missing out on for all those years. And it was working. This was the third best day of Hizashi’s life, only behind the day he met Shouta and the day he and Shouta confessed.

Shouta grinned down at him. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“Shut up!” Hizashi said, cursing when a giggle slipped out in the retort. “Oh god!”

“So, what do I get for winning?”

Hizashi squealed as Shouta’s fingers started rapidly crawling up his sides and ribs. His hands shot down to grip Shouta’s arms, trying his best to not to push him away.

“Whatever you want!” Hizashi cried out through his growing laughter.

“Whatever I want?”

Hizashi nodded, his eyes squeezing shut as he laughed. He felt Shouta lean in and put his lips right next to Hizashi’s ear.

“Well, it’s a good thing I want to hear you laugh.”

Hizashi let out a full shriek when Shouta’s hands shot up into his armpits under his shirt, scratching away at the shockingly sensitive skin. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he started nibbling on Hizashi’s ear again, making his laughter go all high-pitched and squealing. Even Shouta’s soft exhales started to tickle.

And that was definitely something Hizashi was noticing. Now that he was laughing and giggling and squealing away, he even felt more ticklish. He wondered if even a squeeze to his sides or hips or knees would actually be effective, now, when they had never been before. Even the air in the room, brushing across his bare sides and stomach, made him feel all tingly.

And then it all stopped.

Shouta pulled back, suddenly and without a word. Cool air swept in onto Hizashi where their bodies had been pressed together, and he couldn’t help but shiver. Hizashi furrowed his brows and dropped his hands from where they covered his mouth, panting for air. Did he do something wrong?

“Why’d we stop?”

Shouta cocked his head to one side, tugging his hair up and out of his face and tying it up. “I’m going to give you a challenge.”

“... A challenge?”

Shouta gave him that shark-like grin. “I’m going to try and find all your tickle spots. And you, Hizashi. You cannot try to stop me or cover your face. If you do, I stop until you get back into position.”

Hizashi felt his face heating up, and Shouta’s smile got a more predatory edge to it. His breath caught in his throat as Shouta leaned in to talk directly into his ear again, leaving Hizashi shivering for a completely different reason.

“Well?” He breathed against the shell of Hizashi’s ear.

“Challenge accepted,” Hizashi whispered.

#tickle fic #My writing #bnha tickling #lee!yamada hizashi #ler!aizawa shouta #ticklish!yamada hizashi #bnha #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #erasermic

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

#writing prompts #sentence prompts #ficlet #the husband energy is strong with this one #shameless

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader insert)

Prologue

(Inspired by this scene)

Summary: You've been working as a merchant on Nevarro for years now, only out of necessity. Life really wasn't going your way. At least until the Mandalorian came by your booth. Now he's all you think about, and soon he'll be even more.

Warnings: Probably some swearing (real and in universe), violence (eventually), smut (eventually), No use of Y/N, slowburn/fluff (for the first little while)

Notes: Takes place at the end of season 1, and will mostly take place between season one and two. I have been sitting on this for a while due to some fear about reception by the fandom, but honestly I just need to stop thinking about it so here we go. She's going out into the world, and I hope you enjoy. (Also I wrote this prologue like 2 months ago so it isn't quite where I'd like it to be but if you read this please just stick with me, I swear my writing gets better lol)

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last saw him. Weeks? Months? But you can’t get that damn tin can out of your head.

You really have no reason to be this hung up on him. He’s barely spoken to you, you’ve never even seen his face, so it should be easy enough to move on from whatever childish infatuation you have over him. Right? Maker, what kind of person crushes on a mask and a suit of armour?

But there’s something about him, something that keeps him planted in your subconscious. You’ve tried to find the words to explain it, but nothing ever comes close. You can't even begin to understand how this man has completely overtaken your every waking thought.

He used to come by every couple of weeks, and you’d savour every delectable minute of the interaction, but that was all before shit hit the fan of course. You weren't there to see it but when you came back to work the next day it was all anyone could talk about.

“Apparently the metal man broke some Guild rule, and practically all of the other bounty hunters tried to kill him for it.” You heard over your shoulder. As much as you liked to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help form eavesdropping on a conversation between merchants. You did have a guilty pleasure for drama, probably to fill the uneventful void that your mundane life had now become.

“The Mandalorian? He broke their code then!” one exclaimed.

“I heard he went back for a bounty,” someone else whispered.

“What could make someone do something so stupid?” questioned a merchant lady you already didn’t particularly like.

“He doesn’t strike me as stupid,” you interrupt, trying to stick up for the man you were currently enamoured with. “If he did it, there must be a valid reason.”

“If he did it?” She sneered. “Do you not see the damage he left behind? People will be out of business for sure. It’ll take weeks to clean up the mess he made.”

“Then I guess I hope it was worth it. That it wasn't in vain.” You state, putting an end to the conversation. You hoped the man – that you already liked against your better judgement – wouldn’t cause so much harm without some justification.

In the wake of his rebellion, a covert of other masked hunters revealed themselves, shot up the town, and then vanished without a word. And so did your Mandalorian.

Woah hold on. Not yours. Just one random Mandalorian that you’ve said a handful of words to and have harboured a secret crush over.

From the second you saw him you pretty much knew you were screwed. Between the husky modulated voice, and the broad as hell shoulders, there was pretty much no way to quell the instant attraction that rose up in you. His presence alone was suffocating. Nothing could stop the way your vocal cords tightened to the point of forcing out a soft squeal at his sight. The whole time he talked to you, you could feel his visor latch onto your body – pinning you to the spot.

You thought you might find some relief when he left. Quite the opposite. You couldn't help but gawk at the way his body moved, like he knew he was hot shit. He took your damn breath away. And you were glad to know that he couldn't see your lips part to let out a soft moan, or the way they pursed back together as you unconsciously swallowed the suddenly copious amount of saliva pooling in your mouth. Fucking delicious, you thought, shamelessly.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he could take anyone down in milliseconds. He was untouchable, and this latest defiance proved that. No one crossed the Guild. Well, no one crossed the Guild and got away with it. But if anyone could, it would be Mando.

And there’s another thing. You don’t even know his name. Which means that you’re forced to call him the colloquial slang that is commonly used by outsiders of the Mandalorian culture. “Mando”. You couldn’t help but think about how it almost sounded like an insult, especially when slurred from the mouth of other criminals. You hated the way people spat the word out at him, obviously trying to get him worked up; to see what he was made of. It made you desperately wish that you had a better name to call him, his real name. An intimate piece of knowledge that you could hold on to, something of him that no one else had.

Maybe that made you selfish. Even so, there was so much you wished you knew about him. He was a complete mystery.

To be fair, he probably didn’t even know your own name. You can't recall him asking for it, or if you ever introduced yourself. You were pretty much a bumbling mess the first time you met him. To the point where even if you had tried to say your name it probably would have sounded like you were speaking Huttese. Although, who could blame you. It wasn’t very conventional to introduce yourself to every customer. The people on Nevarro usually kept to themselves, especially the bounty hunters. There wasn’t much room for ‘customer service’. But damn you wish you had tried to make some sort of introduction. Even if it had come out as incoherent nonsense, you think it may have made talking to him later a bit easier.

However, none of that matters if he never comes back, and you bet he won’t. He’s smarter than that. To pull what he did, he’s probably on the other side of the galaxy right now.

Even so, you’ll miss the shared awkward silences and stolen glances that came with each of his visits. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d list off what he needed to stock up on, using the most deep and captivating voice you think you’d ever heard. If he hadn’t had that helmet covering his face, you’d swear he stared right into your soul as he did so. It almost made you weak in the knees every damn time. You’d then rummage through each supply crate and gather the best quality of every item, and finally – just to bring your humiliation to an all-time high – you’d give him a discount for absolutely no discernible reason. He took notice of the reduced price the first time and thanked you, only for you to be berated by your boss once he left. Eventually, to your dismay, the niceties came to a halt. Maybe he forgot what full price was, maybe he just couldn’t care less.

Either way, it looks like you’d risked your job for the last time. It’s a shame. For a planet full of bounty hunters and hardened criminals, there’s actually not a lot to entertain you. A shootout here, an escaped bounty there, but nothing that satisfied your desire for an exciting lifestyle.

The closest you got to that would be each time some wide-eyed, eager, wannabe-bounty-hunter strolled through town looking for a chance to weasel their way up the ladder of the Guild. They definitely thought they were more important than they actually were, and they always made a point of showing off for you. Not that you were anything special, just the closest thing with cleavage usually. They’d probably brag about their rank and their kill counts, things you could not care less about. A few of them actually had the balls to ask you out, but it usually only ended in a free meal or drink. To be fair though that was very intentional on your part. It was fun to play the part of a flirtatious girl from the market for a while, and almost exciting to think about how you were completely screwing over those assholes.

Over the time you’ve spent alone in the galaxy you learned exactly how to read those kinds of people. You knew just how far to go, just what to say or do until you got what you needed. As much as you weren’t a fan of physical affection, you often brushed your target's arm or thigh, played with their hair, or if the situation really demanded it – madeout with them behind the cantina. But you always made a point of stopping before things got too far. You may not be a complete saint, but you knew none of the scumbags you met were worth your time.

You wouldn’t have allowed things to go any further. Not with them. Going any further could only be a letdown, and you were fine to take those matters into your own hands…. literally. You may be a complete flirt, but only as a skill to survive in this grimy and dangerous galaxy. You learned early on that being young and female was a vulnerability. That was at least until you discovered how that vulnerability could be shaped into one of your most valuable strengths.

When you think about him though… well something about him made your entire badass facade disappear into thin air. You lost any cool you had the minute he walked past your vendor. Not to mention that there was something else about him that told you he’d see right through it anyway. Maybe it was the visor. Some special setting to read the level of bullshit.

As far as you’ve seen, he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He definitely isn’t the type to make others feel comfortable in a conversation. He says precisely what he needs to get his point across, nothing more. Never once had you heard him use more than 10 words at a time.

On a few occasions you were lucky enough to end up in the cantina at the same time as him. Whether you were on a break or entertaining some dead-beat for free lunch, you remember how fast your heart would beat when the glint of his helmet met your vision. You wondered if he noticed your presence, or if he even recognized you away from your vendor at the market.

One time you were in the next booth over. Your spine straightened, and your whole body shivered when he slid into his seat and placed himself directly behind you. The proximity was electrifying. It made every neuron in your body fire rapidly and your blood vessels pump impossibly fast. You were probably supposed to be listening to the slimeball buying your drinks drone on about how impressive his last capture was, but the baritone emanating from behind ensnared every ounce of focus you had.

“I’ll take the highest pay” he muttered through the modulator.

“I do have other hunters, Mando. I can’t always guarantee you get the best of the lot.” replied his employer. A smile maintained on his face even when confronting an unforgiving barricade.

“I’m sure you do. But high price means high risk.” Mando responded. His employer’s confused silence forced him to continue. “Those skilled enough to take on the bounties know better than to do so.”

The Guild leaders' laughter bounced off the walls making many patrons turned their heads, while others continued their business, obviously being used to this behaviour.

You were left puzzled in that moment, completely baffled by this interaction. It wasn't until much later that night when it finally clicked. Although you didn’t know exactly how ranking in the Guild worked, you knew Mando was up there. He had the status to strike fear into almost every other bounty hunter he outranked. Mando had staked his claim long ago, and no one in the Guild was stupid enough to try and take a bounty from him. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

You’d remember that interaction vividly. Not only because of how close you were to the Mandalorian as you overheard it, but also in service as a reminder to you, proving just how dominant he was in this world. He held power over every member of the Guild, including its leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You felt idiotic for not instantly understanding the control he wielded wherever he went. Sometimes it's a wonder how completely oblivious you could be.

Although you certainly were not oblivious to the drastic upgrade he got just before leaving. If you thought Mando was intimidating before, his new head to toe silver armour was sure to strike fear into any of his prey. You remember thinking you saw his reflection pass by earlier in the day, but he quickly dissolved into the shadows, as he often found a way of doing. However, later that night when you had just gotten off from work, he strolled back into the cantina for a new batch of bounties and all eyes were drawn to him. Most eyes were filled with jealousy since – as his employer made clear – he completed the job none of them could. They were probably even more enraged by the fact that he wore his reward back into the room, when most of them would have gladly taken that metal to the highest bidder and sold it for a hefty profit. However, you saw him differently than the rest. Your eyes were fixed on him in fear and in wonder. This metal man, already a force of nature, just became that much more impossible to defeat. As if anything could get to him before, it was clear now that no one could reach the Mandalorian.

But again – it doesn't matter. Not a single soul on Canto Bight would bet his shiny ass walks back into this sector. Not unless he has some kinda death wish…

Turns out he has some kinda death wish.

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Chapter 1 is up now!

More notes: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this lovely mess. I'm not the most proud of it, but I do want to continue this story (which I know we've all read 100 iterations of by now). Either way, I'm having fun writing it, so I might as well post it!

I'd love a like or comment if you'd be willing to share, I'm very new to writing so I'd enjoy any constructive criticism (especially on the first few parts, I know they need work, but at this point I just want to stop thinking about it and continue on with the story). Also this will be ongoing, so if you wanna keep reading feel free to drop your @ in my inbox or in the comments and I can tag you when I update!

So long for now my fellow helmet whores!

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