#dropping this an skedaddling sorry guys

[calkale]

bite sized guy 🧡

#thats my little man!! #dropping this an skedaddling sorry guys #ive been doing math all day and drew this while finishing the podcast i was listening to ✌️ #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #top gun 1986 #calkaleart

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: frienemies-to-lovers, kinda mean!Eddie? shy!reader, swearing, a lil smoochin', mentions of lack of confidence and poor self image, cute nicknames

a/n: hi bb, will you be my valentine? I don't love writing mean!eddie but its okay because we can always fix him :)

Valentine’s Day.

A day which the Hawkins High elite are positively buzzing over the plethora of cheap red and pink decorations.

Cheerleaders swoon over poorly constructed cards from their popular boyfriends, while dozens of obnoxious mylar balloons take up way too much space in the already crowded hallways.

Beyond the 14th of February, the reason for all the excitement was the annual Hawkins High Valentine’s Day dance—of which you were head of the committee.

Was it because you were the only Senior to volunteer their time to coordinating it instead of attending it? Maybe, but at least it gave you a reason to show up to the dance without a date.

...and avoid looking like the pitiful wallflower you are.

You also knew you’d have no time to rush home and get ready after your last class, so here you are. Standing outside of the AV Club door, decked out in your new crushed-velvet dress. It's ruby red and dangerously short.

This was definitely out of your comfort zone. You typically preferred to be invisible. It’s easier that way; no one can hurt what they can’t see. Right?

But when this dress caught your eye in the mall shop window, it was the first time you could ever remember wanting to be seen. Wanting to try to look like the pretty girls who walk the halls everyday vying for the attention of others.

The dance gave you the perfect excuse. Sure, it’s not like you had a date or anyone asking you to go, but you felt so beautiful. The way the dress hugged your body made all the staring and whispering as you walked down the hallway so, so worth it.

“Hey—whoa…” Dustin’s voice dropped when he walked around the corner, arms full of equipment. “Y-you look fantastic!” He said proudly.

Dustin was your favorite Freshmen, always kind and happy to see you.

“Aw, thanks Dusty! You don’t think it’s too much?” You lifted your boot, inspecting it falsely.

Dustin smiled, “It’s too much for 6th period Spanish, but not for Valentine’s Day that’s for sure.”

He unlocked the door, and held it for you.

Dusting grabbed a pen and paper to write down what you’d need the AV Club’s help with after school.

With hands on your hips, you looked around the room. “Okay, so I definitely need the projector, and if you could set it up before—“

An annoying, loud, cocky voice cut you off. “Henderson! What the hell is takin’ you so long?”

Eddie fucking Munson.

You watched as he sauntered into the room, DIO jacket and all. He clapped Dustin on the shoulders before turning his gaze to you.

“Holy shit. That you, Mouse?”

Mouse. A nickname you loathed.

You’d made the mistake of sitting at the Hellfire table your Freshman year, and he’s never let let you live it down. Once Eddie saw just how shy you were, he made it his mission to get under your skin.

He'd plopped down into the seat next to you, assuming you were there to cause him and the guys trouble. “New girl’s trying to get in good with the freaks, hm?”

You jumped and began to frantically pack your belongings, “I-I…I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I’ll just go—"

When he realized you were nervous, he changed his tone. No longer was he on edge, but rather trying to make you laugh. Show you it's okay to give him a taste of his own medicine. “No no, little mouse. You’re not scurrying away that easily.”

Four years later, you’re both still here and Eddie’s been a thorn in your side ever since. You thought you'd be rid of him once he graduated, but he flunked--twice. Condemning you to another year full of his nonsense.

His obnoxious, overly-confident, doe-eyed nonsense.

“Munson.” You couldn’t help the eye roll. “Dustin and I are working on something so,” you flicked your hand toward the door. “Skedaddle.”

“Oof,” he teased. “You kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

Eddie walked past Dustin, hands on his hips as he took you in. “Why, may I ask, are you dressed so fancy, princess? Hot date with a frog?”

Okay, guess we’re playing this game.

“The only frog I know is you, Munson.”

His hand flew to his heart. “You hear this, Henderson? Who knew Mouse could be such a brat?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” you attempt to sidestep him, but he blocks your path. Big brown eyes watching your every move. “Don’t you have anything better to do than push my buttons?” It’s a pitiful gripe. You know he enjoys this far too much.

“C’mon, sweetheart. If I didn’t talk to you, who the hell would?”

Ouch.

Something no doubt said in jest, but it hurt to realize just how right he was. You had tons of acquaintances, and you got along great with the teachers. As for friends, the well's a bit dry in that department.

You cleared away the tightness in you throat. “Yeah, I don’t have time for this. I’m actually contributing to society. How about you?” Your face was twisted into a sarcastic smile, attempting to hide the hurt.

Eddie on the other hand thought the two of you were simply playing your favorite game. Seeing just how flustered he could make you before you gave him a taste of his own medicine.

“Yeah, you’re a real Nancy Reagan.” He laughed, gesturing to your dress.

Your eyes honed in on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” he reached out, sweeping a piece of hair off of your cheek. “If you wanted a little attention, you didn’t have to do all this.”

This.

Said as if the word tasted rotten. Disgusted by what you’d considered to be you at your most beautiful.

I must look like a fucking fool.

The stinging in your eyes got stronger every second you stood in his presence. Your gaze locked onto the floor, following your feet as you left. “Bye, Dustin. I’ll see you later.”

Dustin protested, calling you back before turning his disappointed glare to Eddie.

“Dude…” he chided.

Eddie scoffed, “What? Henderson I was joking—she knows that, okay? That’s our whole thing.”

"Eddie, she was crying!"

Were you? No, no way. This is what the two of you do.

"No, she wasn't." He said unconvincingly. "You don't know her like I do, little buddy. She's a good girl, loves the cat-and-mouse of it all." Eddie wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Dustin.

Eddie had a fuck of a time in O'Donnell's class, and now on top of all of that, he's late to set up Hellfire.

He moved a bit quicker down the hall, easy enough since most of the school left to get ready for the Desperate Dance. He intentionally always schedules DND on nights like this, that way he'd never have to be caught dead--

Eddie's stopped in his tracks at the sight of the trashcan at the end of the hall. He spots a familiar piece of red fabric hanging out of the bin.

He pulled it like a magician, revealing more and more of the velvet clothing until its fully removed,

A dress.

Your dress.

Why the fuck did you throw it in the trash? You we're the most confident Eddie had ever seen you while you wore this thing.

...and you looked drop dead gorgeous, but that's beside the point.

He heard your voice coming from the gym, and abandoned all thoughts of DND.

Eddie burst through the double doors, ignoring the frilly pink and red decorations for the dance. He weaved between the underclassmen carefully setting up the tables and backdrops to make his way over to you.

You, who now instead of being in your beautiful fucking dress, are in you school-supplied gym uniform. Your hair was pulled back, no longer falling in the perfectly natural way you had it earlier. Your makeup was gone--Eddie didn't mind that, he didn't think you needed it anyway.

But you'd never looked so small to him.

He called your name more gently than you've ever heard him speak. When you turned and saw your dress in his grip, you wanted to disappear.

Had he come to gloat?

"Why the hell was this in the trash?" he's not smirking, or sarcastic when he says it.

"Didn't like it." It's all the pain in your throat will let you get out.

You walk away from him, hurrying to find something else to do beside stand there and be made fun of by Eddie Munson.

"Bullshit," he calls after you, quick on your heels. "You don't wear a dress like this and look the way you look in it and just decide you don't like it."

You could feel the tears returning as soon as you stopped walking. "I don't know what you wanna hear," your back was to Eddie, but you felt his gaze regardless. "I just didn't like it...anymore, okay?"

The fake organization of the ribbons in front of you didn't deter him, he remained behind you in silence until he couldn't take it anymore.

"Did...did I say something? Earlier, in the AV Club." He spoke so softly, and with such sincerity, you'd never know it was Eddie talking to you.

You sniffled, angry at yourself for letting him hear how upset you were. "I don't know what you mean."

"Henderson," He's quick on your heels. "Henderson said you were crying when you left."

You don't--can't say anything. Trying desperately to will the tightness in your throat to go away and the tears to dry before they fall from your eyes. A small, shaking breath passes your lips.

"Please look at me, Mouse." His voice is hushed when he calls out to you.

You turn to him begrudgingly. Hoping if he saw the mess he made he'd leave well enough alone.

But when he sees your face, with red eyes and damp tear-stained cheeks, his heart falls into his stomach.

"Oh, oh sweetheart--"

You beat him to it. "I'm fine, Munson. Just...just give me the stupid thing, okay? I'm better off invisible, anyway."

"You've never been invisible to me." Eddie hands you the dress, and watches as you wring it between your hands. "I'm sorry, Mouse."

You scoff, "You didn't--"

"Yes I did," He says firmly. Eddie steps into you, closer than he's been before. "I made an asinine comment thinking we were playing our little game, but it's not a game if someone gets hurt, especially you."

Eddie swipes away the tear on your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You looked beautiful. You're always beautiful, but that dress? Honey, I couldn't think straight. I'm a dumbass half the time, but I turned into a god damned Neanderthal when I saw you in that."

Your brain couldn't process what was happening. It almost sounded like Eddie...liked you?

"I thought," You looked down, embarrassed to even say it out loud. "I finally felt pretty, pretty enough to be seen and not just in the background."

Eddie's brow softens at your words, "Mouse, I see you. You're one of the only things I look for throughout the day. Always lookin' out for the pretty shy girl with the smile that makes me go weak in the knees."

You laugh at that. "I guess I always look for the obnoxious metal head that's way too good at getting under my skin."

Eddie chest rumbles with a laugh, too. "You're too good at calling me on my crap, what do you expect me to do?"

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and it has Eddie clearing his throat. "Can--can I give you a hug? Hate that I made my favorite girl cry."

The smile on your face speaks volumes, but you nod anyway.

When you're wrapped in Eddie's arms, his warmth seeps through your bones, relieving any tension or nerves. His scent invades your senses, warming your belly and heart. You melt into him completely.

Eddie can't believe how well you fit in his arms, like a damn puzzle piece if you asked him. He smells you shampoo, and memorizes the fragrance, filing it away in his mind as his new favorite smell.

When you pull back, he leans his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I really am."

You nod, moving his head a bit as it rests on yours. "I know."

Eddie steps away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ya know, uh, if you're not busy, I'm running a DND campaign tonight. I'd love it if you sat in and maybe after...I don't know, maybe I could take you to Benny's?"

You smirked, eyes narrowing at him. "You asking me out, Munson?"

His eyes widened in sheer panic, "Oh--oh my God, I read this all wrong, huh? Please just forget--"

You're quick to ease his worry. "I'd love too."

Putting the dress on the table, you offer Eddie your hand. "Show me the way, Dungeon Master."

He takes it eagerly, but doesn't walk anywhere yet.

"Eddie?" You giggle.

"One second, princess. Damn knees turned to jelly again."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson

[cheriihoney]

Back from the dead because i was busy with internship but im free now.

I thought i would leave behind genshin impact but wRIOTHESLEY GOT ME BY THE NECK,,,,,HES SO HANDSOME,,,, SO QUICK THING FOR YANDERE!WRIOTHESLEY AND MAID!READER

Have not played the latest archon quest. I only know that wriothesley is hot so bear with me here ^^

EDIT: just took out some repeating dialogue, sorry it took a while to notice!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You’re one of the braver maids, or one of the more dumber oness, for accepting a job to work in an underwater fortress. To be perfectly honest the place isn’t so bad if you ignore how cold and lonesome it is. The other maids barely raising their voices above a whisper when the lord of the fortress is there. They were afraid. It is common knowledge that beyond his role of subduing criminals he is a kind, gentle and noble man with the way children flock to him to clumsily honor his gauntlets with stickers. And yet, despite knowing this it is difficult to be in his presence. Tall, dark, foreboding and handsome. People who come across him are at crossroads with how they are intimidated by his presence and how enamored they are with it.

With you however, youre just doing a job as his ‘official’ personal maid. Originally you were a simple new hire and as one of your first tasks, you were expected to take care of his grace after a long grueling day at work. Other maids were too skittish to do it. For fear of doing something wrong or being caught oogling at their employer. You didn’t have any personal feelings towards his grace. Aside from being thankful that he employed you, payed and gave a roof over your head. You owe it to your philosophy of not sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be. Silently dressing Wriothesley’s wounds from a particularly bad brawl that day. A large gash was inflicted on hjim, luckily it wasn’t deep and didn’t require stitches. Basic empathy made you feel concerned and made extra sure that before the he arrived home, you lit a soothing lavender candle in his room to help him relax.

“Lighting a candle for me isn’t necessary” Wriothesley murmured. The sudden statement made you drop the roll of bandages in surprise, not expecting the lord of the fortress to speak to you. You quickly picked up the roll from the floor, setting it in back in the medical kit.

“Of course your grace” You replied carefully. You werent afraid of him, hes just a guy to you but still. This man is your boss and you did something that he didnt ask you to do. Potentially you could get scolded, or worse. Fired.

“It is presumptious of me but I thought it would be good for you if I lit a lavender scented candle before your arrival. Given that you came back injured and that you’re an extremely hard worker” your palms were sweating profusely under his steel gaze. He may be sititng in his chair while you stood by his side, but even then he still held all the power in the room.

Those short, excruciating, moments of him staring into your eyes when you gave your reasoning gave you ample time to overthink that you were booted out of the job. It must’ve been the trick of the eye when something carnal and possessive glinted in his eyes. Before you could think on it more he turned away and grabbed his newspaper in front of him.

“I see. You may go” Was all he said, turning a page. You bowed deeply before politely skedaddling away from him. As you turned the door knob his voice broke the silence again. This time, his voice sounded a tad softer.

“Thank you. It was kind of you to do that”

Stunned by his gratitude, your mouth refused to form words. Instead you noddedly dumbly with a nervous smile to match and promptly left the study. Unaware of the brewing affections that you ignited in Wriothesley.

#🍒 writing #yandere x reader #yandere wriothesley x reader #yandere genshin #yandere wriothesley #yandere wriothesley x y/n #yandere x y/n #ehe its been a while since i wrote #did not edit <3 #yandere genshin impact

[cherryluvrx3]

meat lovers amirite??

Dave Strider x Reader x Karkat Vantas

Chapter 4

Okay.

This has gotta be one of the worst days ever.

Like if there was a shitty day tournament, this day would’ve made it to the semi finals at LEAST . Actually no, I’m sure there’s people out there dealing with way more horrible shit but still.

First, I barely slept last night and when I did finally fall asleep, I ended up forgetting to put my alarm so I was late and my first period teacher chewed me out (can’t stand that bitch). Then later at gym, I was messing around with Gamzee, shooting hoops, and then MY PANTS FUCKING RIPPED!!! It wasn’t super noticeable but I spent the whole day wondering if people could see my lower ass cheek. All because I was ballin'. Oh, and as if my clothes weren’t ruined enough, Terezi accidently squirted ketchup on my shirt during lunch. Then I got my last period’s test back and a big fat F was the final slap to the face.

Now school’s over, it’s windy as fuck outside and I’m walking shamefully back home, running on 3 hours of sleep, my ass cheek hanging out, and crusty ketchup on my shirt. I probably look as miserable as a soggy kitten.

I tugged my shirt down again to cover my ass with a huff. Oh and my stomach growling just reminded me that lunch today was also ass so I skipped it and am currently starving. It’s been about a week and so I got a new allowance and money to use so I could buy lunch I guess. Or maybe just a snack since I have pasta at home? It’s gotta be a comfort food though, I need some damn comforting after today. Maybe something sweet but what could I..

I stopped in front of a Pizza Hut poster advertising their sweet little cinnabons for only $5 bucks! Yeah I could totally go for those right about now.

I wonder if Dave works today? I could eat some sweeties while talkin’ up a sweetie- okay that was mad cringe I’m sorry.

Before me was a golden opportunity to finally ask his number! And if he says no.. then this’ll really be one of my worst moments ever. But I mean at least I’ll get cinnabons at the end of the day?

I took a deep breath and walked in, hearing a little bell jingle.

Behind the cash register was a goofy lookin kid with black hair and glasses but.. I looked around and.. No Dave.

I try not to let disappointment show on my face as he greeted me with a “Welcome to Pizza Hut how can I take your order?”

“Uh yeah can I get a 5 piece order of cinnabons please? That’s all” I say and give him the money. “Alright, I’ll get you them right now.” and as he goes to grab them from their little oven thing, I hear a jingle as the door behind me opens and there walks in an exasperated Dave.

“John- oh..uh hey?” He awkwardly greets me as he heads behind the counter. “Hey.” I say nervously. “Wow you look like shit- I mean-” “Dave!” The guy who I’m guessing is John slaps his shoulder. It’s then I realize the wind probably whipped my hair in all types of crazy ways. “Nah it’s fine.. I look like shit ‘cause I’ve had a shit day..” I sigh as I grab my cinnabons from John. “Tell me about it, today’s been shit for me too! No joke, I almost got jumped.” Dave threw his arms up for dramatic effect.

“Huh-” “What?? Are you alright?” John asked, looking over Dave as if he would suddenly see any new injuries.

“Yeah I’m okay, I skedaddled and ran to the car- had to drop the pizza though.” He squeezed past John and went behind the counter to hang the car keys on a little hook that held a few other types of keys.

“Alright so what happened?” I asked and as Dave was about to answer, another guy with black hair and a mean face came out from the back. “The hell you’d get into this time, Strider?” He crossed his arm and asked in an irritated, accusatory tone.

“I’m literally innocent! I have done no wrong doings in the history of ever. I don’t know why you’d immediately think it’s my fault.” Dave grumbled while the other guy who’s name tag seemed to read ‘Karkat’ scoffed.

“But like I was saying,” Dave side eyed Karkat, or at least I think he did, hard to tell with the shades, “What had happened was this,” he lifted himself up to sit on the counter, John sat on a little chair by the register and Karkat stood near John. I was leaning on the counter with my elbows, intent on hearing whatever the tea was.

“Me, a valued, trustable worker, was just doing my job of delivering pizzas. I noticed the address was in a bit of a sketchy neighborhood but I thought to myself, ‘Y'know what Dave? Maybe these guys are alright citizens. Who are you to judge a book by it’s trashy, bullet riddled cover?’ right?” He began, “Then I stroll up to this ghetto house and knock on the door, it opens and low and behold there’s a fine looking gentleman that could be a prime example of the damage inbreeding does to a human,” I couldn’t help but snicker and John let out a few giggles too, “I says, “Hello sir, I have your pizza, the total is $14.99” and he just hands me a $10. I go, “Sorry sir but it seems you haven’t given me enough to pay, I can’t give you the pizza” and maybe he was having a shit day, like- his sister probably just broke up with him or something and I guess that was just the last straw cause dude just starts fuckin’ yelling at me.

Can’t lie I was scared, shaking in my fuckin’ boots at this meth addicted hillbilly hick that’s suddenly grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and shaking me like in a cartoon or something- dude was about to start winding up his fist to blow a punch hard enough to make me see little animated swirling stars 'n shit, seriously,” Dave laughs while speaking, clearly enjoying his own jokes, “And so, since I’m a big strong man, I shove the guy back, hard, and dude falls back into the house. Guess he had some friends over and I swear they must’ve just finished snorting up lines because I could see they had white dust on their faces and,” he leaned into me, “ I didn’t see no powdered donuts.” I bit my lip to hold in my laugh.

“So his buddies come, tryna back him up I guess. They start rolling up their sleeves ‘n shit and, I’m a man who picks and chooses his battles, and a battle between me and 4 hillbillies off a few lines of coke just ain’t a fight I wanna fight. So I just took off running and I guess druggies don’t have good balance cause them junkies was limping and hobbling after me as I booked it to the car. One of them grabbed me and I just threw the pizza at him and kept going.” He laughed and hopped off the counter to go to the little fridge they stored drinks in and get himself a coke.

I looked back and saw John who was snorting and giggling the whole time and Karkat who was trying to hold back a smile. Of course, I was cheesing hard through the whole story. Dave just has this way of pulling people in and the way he speaks just paints a perfect picture for telling stories.

“So yep, that’s that. Lost a good pizza and got no money. By the way, your hair’s still fucked dude.” Dave says after taking a sip of his soda.

“Ugh shit-” I immediately try to pat down any and all stray hairs, combing through the strands with my fingers.

“Who the hell even is this?” Karkat asks as if he suddenly noticed my presence and something about it makes me feel even more embarrassed, like I was intruding on something private.

“Oh uh, I’m just a customer haha..” I chuckle awkwardly and avert my gaze, I could still see John swat his shoulder and whisper ‘ rude!’’ Out of the corner of my eye.

“So eh.. you said you were having a bad day..?” John asks awkwardly as if trying to make me feel better. “Oh uh.. yeah but we don’t have to talk about it- I mean I’m sure you’ve guys got work-” “Nah go ahead, not like we’re doing anything anyways.” Dave says, encouraging me to speak, probably because he didn't wanna go back to work just yet.

“Well it’s not anything crazy like with you, just annoying school shit and I got a big ol’ ketchup stain on my shirt plus ripped pants.” I sigh.

I hear John whisper “ oh my god like SpongeBob ,” and Karkat giving him a down right dirty look.

“Oh and I guess my hairs all wack too.” I say and go back to trying to fix it. “Well if ya want we can let you use the bathroom and you can fix it in the mirror.” Dave offers and lifts the little counter door, inviting me in.

“Our bathroom is for employees only. ” Karkat said, also giving me a dirty look.

“Karkat, quit being such a fuckin’ wet blanket.” Dave rolled his eyes I think? and grabbed me by my arm, leading me to the bathroom.

——————

The door clicked as I went inside and Dave walked back out to the front. “Did they even buy anything?” Karkat asked John who was about to start mopping as if he didn’t two days ago. “Uh yeah they bought some cinnabons- but I guess they’re cold now.” He said as he picked up the box left on the counter.

“I’ll replace them with some warmer ones.” Dave said and took the box, switching places with another in the little oven.

“Why’re you doing all that for?”

“Kat," he sighed, "it doesn’t take much to be a little nice y’know? You of all people should be nice to them, actually, since that’s the dude who’s pizza ya burnt.” Dave said as he rolled the mop bucket to John.

“…really..?”

“Yep.”

“You burnt a pizza?”

Karkat didn’t answer, he just went to the back. In all honesty he did feel a bit guilty, actually, no. A better word was embarrassed.

Embarrassed that he seriously felt jealous enough to do something so petty. After a bit of thinking, Dave was right, it didn’t take much to be nice.

——————

I put some water in my hands and used it to better stick my frizzy hair down. After turning around to take a better look at my butt and see if you really could see my ass through the tear, there was a knock on the door.

I opened it and there was Karkat, holding some clothes and avoiding eye contact.

“Your clothes are trashed right? Here you can wear mine.” He grumbled. I just stood in silence, semi confused and in disbelief because I just didn’t think he’d be the type to offer me anything let alone a spare change of clothes.

“They’re clean if that’s what you're worried about. I’ll just walk home in my uniform. I need to wash it anyways..” He said and pushed the clothes into my hands.

“Uhm.. thanks! Seriously you’re a life saver, I could kiss you- do you want a kiss?” I puckered up my lips and watched as he practically jumped back and screamed “HELL NO!”

I snickered and said it was a joke! Before closing the door to change.

Luckily his baggy sweater fit and his joggers could be adjusted by the strings. I shoved my clothes in my backpack and walked out.

John mopped about half the store and Dave and Karkat were talking behind the register.

“Woah I didn’t think you’d give them your own personal threads, Kat. You having a random character redemption arc?” Dave teased and bumped Karkat’s shoulder, only to get bumped back harder with a “Shut the hell up, Dickbag Strider!”

“Haha yeah thanks again Karkat!” I smile and leave from behind the counter to grab my temporarily forgotten cinnabons.

“It’s fine… uh?”

“Oh yeah, my name’s (Y/n) by the way.”

“Right.”

I stood there for a bit before I remembered my second reason for coming here, getting Dave’s number.

Okay, act cool and natural.. gently slide trading numbers into the conversation-

“Do you- like need anything else or…?”

“Can I have your number?”

Oh wow, how smooth.

“I mean! All of your numbers ha! You guys all seem- uh really....cool..? Besides! I wanna give these clothes back at some point..” I say awkwardly while being stared down by all three Pizza Hut boys.

“Well yeah, me, I’m cool , not too sure about Karkat and John though.” Dave laughs while John lets out an offended “ hey!” and Karkat bumps his shoulder again.

John is the first to walk over to me, phone in hand, “Uh here.. do you have pesterchum? I like using it more than regular texting.” “Nerd.” "Okayy I see you Rizzard of Oz." “ Shut up!” I type in my handle while the other two pull out their phones.

I put my phone away after we all trade information and pick up my cinnabons once again.

“Alright, it’s been nice. Talk to you guys later!” I waved and walked out the door.

——————-

“Soo like… who is that guy seriously?”

“Hell if I know.” Dave answered Karkat before going to the bathroom to pee.

“I mean, the guy seemed pretty nice, maybe they just want friends?”

“I don’t really think friendship is exactly what they’re looking for.” Karkat mumbled. He noticed how when they asked for a phone number, they were asking Dave specifically. He doesn't think he's especially good at reading people's intentions but it doesn't take a genius to tell they were interested in Dave.

Thinking of them as competition is dumb, it’s not like they’re competing for anything-

“Hey Kat! You wanna sneak out for lunch at school tomorrow morning? I was thinking we could eat at Panda Express or something.” Dave smiled and Karkat felt that if Dave asked for anything with a look like that on his face, he’d say yes.

“Sure..” he grumbled and pulled away before Dave could notice his reddening face.

Is it going to be a competition?

———

a/n its not gonna be a competition theyre all gonna kiss and hold hands… #polyamoryftw

#homestuck #homestuck x reader #dave strider x reader #karkat vantas x reader

[unearthlytwilight]

sorry for the delay, art happened

Four-Fanged Offense: Linus edition!

no Pent. he's busy with travel time espionage stuff

Eliwood learning about borders as social constructions like

(from Lloyd's version, but I like it and it's my playthrough. so)

Legault screentime? yes give it to me

a wild Nino appears! she's running messages for Sonia, but wants to do something fun with the brothers once they're off work. she leaves, and Lloyd says she's a nice girl. Linus agrees and says it's hard to believe that Sonia's her mother. haha about that

they notice Eliwood and co., and Lloyd goes off to get reinforcements, telling Linus to not do anything stupid. Linus waits until he leaves and tells henchguy Igor that they're attacking. he says to try to keep the fighting out of the villages

note: bring Dart to recruit Geitz

oh, Heath. my homesick little murder machine. I love you. we are getting that B with Kent immediately

Geitz's recruitment is Dart recognizing him and asking him what he's doing. Geitz has daddy issues and says he's wandering before asking Dart if he can join. Dart says OK. prepromote Berserker acquired!

nice little worldbuildy details about the Black Fang

cutscene time! Nino complains that she wants to be fighting evildoers. Jaffar rolls up to the house late. Nino says this is weird, and he says that something delayed him. Nino is shocked that he's super bleeding everywhere, but he asks for the next mission and then collapses. oops

(you can actually visit the house. Nino asks whoever visits to keep their voice down. it's implied they ask about the Black Fang, because she denies knowing about them and yells at them to get out)

this guy wears Black Fang clothes, but is "a loyal citizen of Pherae". also he gives you a Silence staff. cool, thanks man

Murdock cameo!

first instance of the Black Fang boss theme, Softly with Grace. more on that naming later

...you've met Sonia, dude. if she had any more red flags she'd be marching in a Soviet parade. heck, she probably does in her free time

normal battle dialogue. interesting stuff

... and he dies! shouldn't have existed around Heath and equipped a sword, my dude. this is all your fault

supports obtained:

Lucius + Raven B + A

Eliwood + Ninian A

Erk + Priscilla C

Linus takes Eliwood hostage to do one last murder, which is bad because that's a game over.

honestly a pretty cool moment. I really like it!

a lot of conventionally "badass" guys snap off a pithy one-liner or are otherwise defiant when facing certain death, but Eliwood makes a pretty good case for quiet confidence

anyway! he says that he noticed that the mooks tried to keep the battle out of the village and asks why they're fighting, since they're both good people

note: when Linus lets him go, Eliwood says "What?!" implying he wasn't expecting to be released. man was totally ready to die for his friends and didn't even blink. moments like that are why I like him so much. he's not as loud as Hector, but I'd argue that he's just as brave

Linus backs off, sensing that Weird Stuff is happening, and resolves to go ask Brendan about it

(also in this chapter: Nino and Jaffar! he asks her why she didn't follow "the law of the Fang" [read: kill the wounded and skedaddle]. notice the quotes. anyway he starts bleeding again and she asks him not to die.)

unfortunately for Linus, Limstella teleports in and kills him. rip dude, I like your chapter better than Lloyd's

wow that got dark immediately. suicide is not the answer (also murder is not the answer)

meanwhile, in Bern, the happy royal couple. Hellene takes a couple shots at Desmond for putting her and Zephiel outside the palace and shacking up with some lady. though she's mean to Guinevere :(

title drop! this game's Fire Emblem is a big ol' gem Bern has that's necessary for the coming-of-age ceremony. so that's a problem. Hellene says it's his fault and asks why he sucks so much

Desmond peaked in high school, prove me wrong

the detail of her moving to the right is a nice touch!

Louise girlbossing for the greater good

a royally sponsored fetch quest. interesting

next time: yet another support episode!

#fire emblem #fe 7 #twilight plays: fe7

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spider verse x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

i'm yoonoh biased so first love is staring at me expectantly... WKWKWK BUT ALL OF THEM LOOK SO GOOD! noir, in particular, looks like it's something from netflix (in s good way hehe) 👁️ mystery and comedy??? we don't talk about the angst no no i'm scared give it to me 💳💥 (but tbh, i'll go with anything because your writing always slaps, no matter what it's about 😭🤧)

AHHH THANK YOU I'm so glad you enjoy my fics hehe You know I'm actually surprised how many people haven't mentioned it yet considering it got a lot of hype when I started hinting toward it last year. It's the same as the NCIT AU I've been dropping peridically lmaooo bUT YESSS NOIR that one is fun to write hehe, anywho, have some blurbs!

~

First Love:

"Look, Nathan, it's really nice of you to, uh, offer to take me home, but I can just get an uber," you nodded, subtly shoving napkin wrapped breadsticks into your purse because Mark asked for them.

"No, I insist, let me take you home," your date says, holding the keys in his hands.

"Uh..." you smiled and shook your head. "I'm good, thanks," you nodded your head this time, being sure to subtly pour the alfredo sauce into the container you'd hidden in your bag. "I... uh..." You left your part of the bill on the table. "I'm gonna go," you quickly started making your way out of the restaurant. You knew this guy was kind of weird, but with all those red flags within the few minutes of your date was just enough to get you to skedaddle. But, looks like he wasn't going to let off so easily.

"(Y/N), come on, wait!" He says, walking after you.

"Ah, no thank you!" You waved your hand and rushed out of the restaurant, uber app already open on your phone. You cursed yourself for not having a license, of all the times, you needed it the most now. Forget having a car, one call with Jungwoo and you'll know how to hotwire one in a jiffy.

"(Y/N), don't be such a bitch!" Nathan shouts.

"Huh?!" You whipped your head back. What did he just call you? A car screeched to a stop next to you, but you paid it no mind while you marched toward Nathan, ready to give him a piece of your mind, until someone put a hand on their shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, ready to head home?" Jaehyun asks, slipping his letterman over your bare shoulders. Nathan's jaw drops.

"And who are you?" Nathan scoffs.

"I'm (Y/N)'s roommate, nice to meet you, it's movie night and Haechan's bitching about the fact that you ditched us for..." Jaehyun looks Nathan up and down. "Whatever that is. Anyway, let's go."

"Yeah, Jae, let's go," you follow him back into the car without a second glance back.

~

Noir:

"Okay, okay, oh god, I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming," you huffed, your hands gripping the countertop in front of the sink. You pull your towel up and take a deep breath, swiping the condensation off of the mirror.

"Hello, darling," Dejun waves at you.

"Oh my god!" You shrieked while you held your hands to your chest, you looked back, no one, but when you looked forward, there he was, your dead fiance. "How... oh, god, I need to stop drinking."

"You really do," Dejun leans against the shower. "But, (Y/N), we need to talk."

"You... I'm hallucinating, I have to be," you looked at him through the mirror. "Geez," you washed your face with cold water. "I know I miss you, but isn't playing mind games a cruel thing?" You sighed. You felt a chill on your shoulder and, when you chanced another glance at the mirror, you screamed again when you saw him standing next to you.

"We're not getting anywhere like this, baby."

"I'm dreaming!"

"We've already established that you're not, honey."

#asks #anon #wips #first love #jaehyun x reader #noir #xiaojun x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #wayv x reader

[spideyspeaches]

Vibrations per minute ↬ P.P

AN: Based on this post ehehe. (Also 223 followers?! I’m not crying you are ಥ‿ಥ Beta read by my baby sis @parkerpeter24​ <3<3

➳ Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

➳ Warnings: smut (semi public), vibrator, minors dni

➳ WC: 1.8k +

➳ Masterlist || Taglist

Peter Parker was not who he looked to be. He was the kind of guy who impressed parents with his bambi eyes and A+ academic performances, but at the same time, he could be a little shit and tease the fuck out of you. For example-

Bets were a naturally occurring event in the Avengers compound, whether it was between Sam and Bucky about who could eat the most number of marshmallows in one go or between Tony and Peter on who could digest more amount of coffee in the least amount of time (both of which landed them in the medbay). 

So maybe placing a bet with your boyfriend may not have been your most intelligent choice. You were a smart woman, you should have known better than to place a bet with Spider-Man, especially if the bet included cardio. 

And now you were facing the consequences. 

You were sitting in the post mission debriefing room, thighs clenched as you saw your boyfriend trying (and failing) to hide his shit eating smirk. You felt the vibrations inside you once again, a little faster than before. Suppressing a moan, you tried to glare murder at him without letting the others know. 

Puffing your cheeks, you slid down the chair, hands folded on your chest. You were pretty sure your cheeks were blood red with the amount of heat you felt.

"Y/N are you sure you're alright? You look a little flushed." Steve asked, shifting to look at you from where he was besides You. He looked concerned.

"Uh- yeah- yeah I'm good. Just exhausted." You stuttered a response. Huffing, you tried to discreetly rub your stomach from clenching. A little whimper escaped your throat, which you quickly suppressed by picking up the glass of water and chugging down some.

Sam looked at you weirdly, the others not paying attention as Nick Fury asked them questions. 

"Miss Stark if you think you're going to get out of debriefing because your little boyfriend and father are sitting here, you're wrong. Please pay attention" Fury said, looking at you with his pirate eye, before turning around and muttering, "I swear sometimes they behave like school children."

You gave Bucky and Sam a glare as they snickered. 

"I'm sorry, I'll- uhh- I'll pay more attention. I'm just, my tummy hurts." You whimpered, flushing when you realised you had said "tummy" in front of the Avengers. 

"Well you better take care of the tummy ache. Don't want you to poo all over here." Peter smirked, your jaw dropping at how rude the little shit was. How unfortunate would it be when he finds out someone had burnt his Kylo Ren special edition figurine? 

"Fuck you asshat." You seethe, your glare intensifying when he increased the rate of vibrations using the phone app he was holding under the desk.

"Y/N, Peter, enough of this, now listen to what Pirate here has to say before he asks you to skedaddle back to your nursery." Your dad says, rolling his eyes at your childish banter.

You wanted to get out of there. Right away, because you couldn't take the shudders in between your legs anymore, or you would orgasm right there, in front of everyone. 

So to get back at them, you raised your hand like you were in elementary school, asking the teacher for permission, "May I go to the washroom? I wanna poo." You ask innocently, smirking when Fury widened his eyes.

Averting your eyes to your boyfriend, you silently conveyed your message, hoping that he got what you were up to. 

Ignoring the laughter of the babies in the Avengers' bodies, you stood up abruptly before he could change the settings anymore, walking stiffly to the bathroom.

"That was kind of mean of me." Peter finally said when you were out of his vision. 

"Yeah kid, I would've kicked your ass if I didn't know that she would do it before me." Tony snarked, curling his lips and shaking his head before going back to the dossier in front of him.

"You should go and apologise to her Pete. She looked upset." Steve piped in, his disappointed eyebrowsTM showing their way.

"She's in the toilet and he's a horny teenager, you really want him to go right now?" Sam said.

"Ew Sam, get your gutter brain out of here!" Peter defended, not meaning what he said.

In fact he was going to do just that. The entire time during the mission, you had been teasing him one way or another, whether it was landing in certain poses or just touching him every chance you get.

The bet was just an opportunity for him to get back at you for leaving him hot and bothered, dreaming about you all night in that tiny lingerie with spider prints on them.

“Yeah Sam, get out of here.” Natasha joked. Before he could witness the counter arguments though, he left the room, leaving a very noisy meeting room and a very frustrated Nick Fury. 

He found you in the bathroom stalls near the cafeteria. It was the women's bathroom but no one was around this time of the night, so he entered it. 

He could hear your moans and pants, your arousal hitting his nostrils as he tried to hyperfixate on you. His jeans suddenly felt strained at his… web shooter area. 

Opening the bathroom door, he clenched his fists. You were standing there, vibrator out of you and your finger inside, eyes scrunched as you threw your head back, not even noticing him enter.

"Why are you touching yourself?" He growled, smirking innocently when you jerked up, eyes taking a lustful look that sent his blood rushing south. 

"It's your fault. You were the one who made me horny in the middle of those boomers." You gritted. 

Your hand was poised on your waist now, legs still spread apart, your pussy on display. 

Grabbing you by your ass, he picked you up and slammed you against the wall, kissing your jaw, "Just seeking revenge." He mumbled  

"Oh oh Petey- revenge for what?" You moaned, arching your back as he undressed you, grabbing your now unclothed boob and sucking on one nipple, twisting the other with his fingers.

Moaning at the sensation of the cool tiles, you dug your fingers at his back, your wet pussy throbbing for a feel of his dick.

"You did it on purpose didn't you? Showing off during missions?" He sucked at your skin, leaving it tender and brushed, "you know how hot you look while you kick ass?" 

He unbuttoned his pants, letting his dick slip out with his boxers. His length never ceased to amaze you, the thick organ making your mouth water. You imagined it slipping into you, your thighs slipping wider on instinct.

He saw the look you were giving him, his lustful eyes full of mirth and desperation. Without waiting any further, he slipped out a condom from his discarded jeans' pocket, sliding his dick into your wet entrance, your ass hitting the wall as he pushed into your walls. 

Throwing your head back, you hissed as your walls clenched around him.

"You get, you get turned on when I kick ass?" You panted, grabbing his hair in desperation to the coiling in your gut, "Fuck I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna come Pete." 

"Well what are you waiting for princess?" He nibs your ear, squeezing your breasts to his now naked chest. You shuddered at the coolness of his body, he's always been cold to touch. 

"Fuck princess, feel so good." His mouth was slack, his thrusts getting harder as he shoved into you, "so tight for me. Enjoying my cock in your pussy eh?"

"Yes! Oh- I love it Pete I love it!" Hitting your head on his chest, you pinched his nipple, making him groan and hit your stomach, the slapping sound echoing in the bathroom.

"Say it louder pretty girl" 

"Why?" You whined, "I should get back to you for using the vibrator but I'm having too much fun." 

You groaned, Your eyes scrunched when his thrusts started to slow down, his senses too overloaded to work together with his stamina.

"Yeah you're needy aren't you?" He said, out of breath from your little meet. He set you down, wiping off your cum using the tissue paper, flushing it off in the toilet. 

He took a minute to just admire you. Your body was shining from sweat, your breath coming out in short pants. You were completely naked, breasts out to the display. He flushed when you smirked at him, you had caught him staring. Not that you minded.

"My beautiful girl." He said, voice husky from strain as he closed the distance between you both, holding you in his arms. 

You laid your head on his chest, rubbing your cheeks against his pectorals. You could hear his racing heart, chuckling when you saw heat rising up his chest to his neck and then face. 

"Why are you blushing? We literally just fucked." You laughed, tracing circles on his collarbones. He looked ethereal from where you were standing, perfectly sculpted by a skillful sculptor. 

"Because you're amazing and I can't believe you're my girl." He said. 

"Mmhm,” You nodded against him, “Also, do you always keep a condom in your pocket?" 

        __________••☆••__________

There were many reasons as to why you keep around Peter, and one of them is that he's an amazing chef. Living with his aunt and uncle, he and Ben had been the main source of home cooked meals, because Aunt May was never good at cooking. 

You saw him standing in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while he hummed to some melody. You didn't mind, you could stare at him all day. Thankfully, none of the Avengers were awake yet (but they would be. They're huge fans of his food) 

"Morning." You smile, wrapping your hands around his waist, placing your head on his back.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, moving around as you clung to him like a koala. Giggling, you wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping on his back like a potato sack. 

"Mmhm, the best sleep I've had in a long while." You mumble, words muffled by his back.

"Is that so?" He asked. 

"Yup." 

Hearing shuffling noises, you quickly jumped off of him, fixing your t-shirt and sitting on the dining table.

You saw as Steve and Sam entered the kitchen, Natasha soon following suit. Clint had left for his home early that morning, wanting to meet Laura and his kids as soon as he could. 

You smiled at each of them, nodding a good morning and helping them sort a plate. 

You were arranging the plates when you heard a choked gasp. Alarmed at the sound, you looked up at Steve's horrified expression, looking at where he was pointing a finger.

"What?" You asked, biting your lips.

"That- is that a hickey?!?" 

Slapping your neck, you let the plate clatter on the table, ignoring Peter's scrambled replies. You saw Bucky entering from the corner of your eye, unable to formulate a coherent answer.

"Oh my god, Bucky they totally fucked yesterday!" 

Page dividers by @cicicantblog​

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman x you #peter parker x stark!daughter #stark!reader #avenger!reader #spideygirl writes

[therealvalkyrie]

Basil Part 1

Pairing/setting: Pro-hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Female!Reader

Summary: After bringing home Bakugou from a bar, you invite him to stay for breakfast.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of sex, soft bakugou, aged up characters

AN: I’m sending it lmao. Figured I’d just drop this and go to sleeb, then maybe I’ll find the motivation to finish the second part tomorrow. We shall see!! Don’t forget to come tell me what you think:) Be kind to yourself and others!! ~valkyrie

Something different wakes you this morning. The familiar presence of your cat, Tonic, curled next to your head on the pillow isn’t it, and it’s not your alarm. You crack open a heavy eye and close your dry mouth. Judging by the pale cloudless sky visible through the window, it’s not time for you to get up yet. Was it a noise? A neighbor? A dream? You try to think back on what you’d been dreaming about in your sleep, but the visuals get hazier by the second as you blink lazily. The urge to stretch and your body washes over you quietly, achingly, and you start to roll onto your right side, away from the cat, only to be prevented by a body across your waist. Alarm jolts through you as you glance down. A head of disheveled blonde hair nuzzled into your side greets your gaze. Then, as your eyes slide down the very naked body attached to the hair, you remember.

Oh. Right.

It’s the man from the bar. The one with striking eyes and an attitude problem who nevertheless charmed his way into your pants with drinks and well-timed wit. It’s the man who tucked you under his arm as you giggled your way out of the bar, made out with you in the back of the taxi, and fucked you until you couldn’t think straight. Bakugou Katsuki.

The memory brings a lethargic smile to your dry lips and a warmth to the rest of your body as you experimentally ghost your fingers down his naked back. He looks tranquil here, torso rising and falling easily in sleep, arm thrown over your stomach, and head using your underboob as a pillow. Your sheets are bunched around your tangled legs but you still feel comfortably warm from his body heat. He’s practically like a furnace, skin hot and slightly sweaty on yours.

Eventually, after staring at him through soft eyes for what should be an embarrassingly long time (but really, you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, not when he’d devoured your body with his eyes the night before), you stretch your arms as much as you can without disturbing him and reach for your phone on the bedside table. The screen lights up as you tug out the charging cord, displaying the time (6:13) and a flurry of notifications from your girls’ night group chat. Scrolling lazily through without bothering to open the app, you read the conversation in reverse while tracing gentle circles on Bakugou’s toned back:

carolina, 6:00: ferny have u been murdered in the night

carolina, 5:59: i am alive…………………….barely

Then, it’s arguments and teasing about another friend, Ichika, leaving with a “short ass man,” in Carolina’s words, and then confirmations of everyone arriving safely home. So you weren’t the only one who left with someone last night? It makes you feel better about abandoning your friends. It wasn’t that they couldn’t take care of themselves, more that nights out with your girls were few and far between, given your hectic schedules. You know they wouldn’t hold it against you, but you were looking forward to spending time with them. Scroll, scroll, scroll.

carolina, 00:46: we want details in the morn😈

Mei, 00:45: in that case, take your time sweaty😘

Mei, 00:44: WHAT THE FUCK????

ichika, 00:44: Ground Zero??

Of course they’d discuss this, thirsty whores, you think, grinning. You knew who he was the second he leaned up against the bar next to you with a cocky smile and a pick-up line; it’s not like you’re completely oblivious, unlike Mei, even if you don’t generally keep up with the latest pro-hero gossip. And he didn’t let you forget it, either. Fresh heat rises up your neck as echoes of last night ring in your mind.

“Say it, baby, who’s fuckin’ you so good?”

“Y-you are!”

“And who am I?”

“Ground Ze-ero!”

The ghostly feeling of his fingers digging into your hips makes your thighs twitch together.

ichika, 00:44: omg no way

Mei, 00:44: who?

carolina, 00:44: of course i saw, that was motherfucking bakugou katsuki!!!!!!

Mei, 00:43: y’all see that smokeshow she left with? we won’t be hearin shit until tmrw

carolina, 00:41: or don’t;) we know you’re occupied

ichika, 00:41: lmk when you get home safe, love!!

When you’re finally caught up, you open your phone and type out a clumsy response with one thumb.

Ferny, 6:18: was not murdered, promise i will give deets later

Ferny, 6:18: he’s still here uwu

A low, sleepy grunt pulls your gaze from your phone screen and onto Bakugou. He’s finally stirring, nose pressing into the pudge of your stomach and body twisting further into the sheets.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you murmur, locking your phone and tossing it back onto the nightstand.

His head jerks up and he looks momentarily caught off-balance, guarded, before he turns to look at your face and his expression softens.

“Mornin, beautiful,” he mumbles in a gravelly morning voice, pushing up the bed to press his lips to yours. Your cat mewls at the inconvenient shift in the pillow and brushes down your body to settle by your feet instead. Indulging for a moment in the soft glow of kissing him, your arms loop around his neck and his warm hand ghosts over your cheek, down your neck, across your clavicle. You let out a singular satisfied moan at the feeling of his bare chest against yours, then gently pull away.

“I have morning breath,” you complain with a pout. He only smirks devilishly.

“You taste alright to me,” he quips before sneaking another, faster kiss to your lips.

You squeal and push him back playfully with an indignant, “Bakugou!”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes defeat, flopping on his back next to you.

Finally, without his body practically pinning you to the mattress, you’re able to sit up and stretch satisfyingly. Your back gives a series of gratifying pops as you yawn and twist, and Bakugou makes an alarmed sound behind you.

“Jesus, you sound like fuckin bubblewrap! Is your back okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine! Always happens when I sleep funny.”

“I dunno, you should maybe get that checked out.”

“After coffee,” you agree noncommittally, then lean down to scoop Tonic from where he’d retreated on the end of the bed and extricate your legs from the tangle of sheets and blankets. “I just have to feed this little guy, and then I was thinking… breakfast? There’s a great bakery across the street.” You’re suddenly shy, voice breathier with the suggestion. 

The protocol you usually employ for one night stands is simple: if you’re at their apartment, make your excuses and skedaddle before anything more intimate like food can happen; if they’re at yours, make your excuses and kick them out before they start doing weird shit to your kitchen. But Bakugou feels different. There isn’t an ounce of regret or shame or embarrassment when you think back on the previous night, and the morning already feels intimate, with its lazy kisses and easy banter. You wouldn’t mind spending more time with him, but you can’t tell if he feels the same. Or if he’s waiting for an excuse to leave and get back to his life.

“Let me make you breakfast,” comes the unexpected reply, and you twist to look at him, eyebrows arched in surprise at both the acceptance of your invitation and his willingness to cook for you. He must mistake it for doubt, though, because he looks suddenly defensive, brow creasing in a frown. “Hey, I can cook, get that dumb look off your face!”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you placate, leaning back and into his side while cradling Tonic to your chest. “I’d love for you to make me breakfast.” You press a kiss to his shoulder as he loops his arm around yours and grumbles something too quiet to hear. “It’s just,” you mumble into his skin, “I don’t have much in the way of a stocked pantry.”

“What do you mean?” You glance up to meet his perplexed gaze.

“I mean, my roommate travels a lot for work and he’s more of a cook than I am,” you explain, not missing the way Bakugou tenses when you mention your male roommate. But he doesn’t say anything, just blinks down at your cat who’s spilled from your arms and across his chest like an uncontainable liquid. “Sorry” —you wince, trying and failing to scoop him back towards you— “he’s very affectionate.”

“S’okay,” he mutters, blinking twice more before focusing back on you. “Let’s at least see what you’ve got, I could probably whip something up.”

You shrug. “Well, okay. Might be a challenge.” At this, he chuckles darkly and narrows his eyes.

“I love a challenge.”

You giggle and push up to sitting again, legs dangling over the edge of the bed and Tonic cradled to your chest. “Alright, Gordon Ramsey, let’s take a look.”

Sauntering over to your closet, you can feel Bakugou’s gaze on you until he stands up as well and starts casting around for his clothes from the previous night.

“Oh,” you start as you reach for a hoodie from the top shelf, dragging his eyes back to you. “If you want some clean clothes, my ex left some stuff that’d fit you.”

He makes a choked sound behind you, then clears his throat. “Uhm, no. Thank you.” It’s strained, and he doesn’t say how he’d rather get food poisoning than wear the clothes of another man who fucked you. The thought makes his skin feel tight and sends an unfamiliar rush of jealousy through him.

You only shrug. “Suit yourself.”

You dress in comfortable silence, trying not to steal glances at his incredible abs while you do it. 

In the hallway, you point at a door, holding Tonic in your arms. “Bathroom’s through there, I think I should have a new toothbrush in the cupboard if you want. The kitchen’s this way, once you’re done.”

He grunts thanks and ducks through the door, flicking on the light switch as he goes.

It puts you slightly off-balance to be aware of someone else in your apartment as you feed Tonic and open up your living room curtains to let the morning sun stream in. You stand there for a moment, looking out over the city and willing your nerves to settle. You like Bakugou, you want him to stay. So just don’t fuck it up.

You hear the bathroom door close and take a deep breath.

In the kitchen, Bakugou stares at your empty cupboards and fridge for a long moment while you stand beside him, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

“What do you eat?” he barks in disbelief, turning to look at you like you’ve got two heads.

“Sunlight and water.”

“What?!”

“It’s my quirk! I, um, photosynthesize.” You cross the kitchen to one of your many plants, a large fern that spreads across half the wall. “Here,” you motion Bakugou over, kneeling down to touch the dirt in its planter. “Watch.”

Bakugou crouches next to you, a confused scowl still etched on his face, but nevertheless looks to where your fingers gently dig into the potting soil.

As you close your eyes and concentrate, pushing will out of your fingers, you feel the fern’s whole network of roots, stalks, and leaves, pulsing with the energy of life. Concentrating, you encourage it to flow towards you, splitting the dirt with a sprout. You allow a smile of satisfaction to split across your face when you hear Bakugou’s gasp of surprise when the sprout bursts into the air and unfurls.

You open your eyes to find his lips slightly parted in awe and his eyebrows raised where they’re normally pinched.

“I photosynthesize and make plants grow.” You lean forward to lightly stroke the little fern’s softly curling leaves. “I can still eat real food, though. It’s just cheaper to get some sun.”

Bakugou leans forward as well, one hand reaching hesitantly toward the fern.

“You did that?” He looks at you in awe.

You nod, smiling lightly. His eyes seem to search yours for a moment, then an air of contemplation crosses his face and he takes a breath.

“Can you do basil?”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #female!reader #kissing #basil #valkyrie writes

[lokigodofaces]

Y’all I had this dream where for some reason at the end of Loki Variant!Loki decided he had to save Main!Loki. It was because Loki was the only one that could save the main universe from something along the road, but it would get messy for some reason if Variant!Loki came to deal with it. So V!Loki decided to save M!Loki from dying at the hands of Thanos, but he had to do it in a way that would work seemlessly and not make too big of a time mess.

So V!Loki studied the events leading up to M!Loki’s death and was trying to figure out what to do when Mobius said that if M!Loki didn’t die it would cause all these problems because then Infinity War and Endgame wouldn’t play out right. Basically, things would go differently if Loki was there with Thor. So now V!Loki has to figure this out because he has to make sure IW and EG go about the same while saving M!Loki. 

So V!Loki decides to take M!Loki’s place. Sometime in between the destruction of Asgard and Thanos’ attack on the Statesman, V!Loki swaps M!Loki out for himself. Logically, I think a good place would be right before/after the scene where Thor and Loki see each other for the first time on the Statesman, and Loki shows that he is actually there and it isn’t an illusion. But that wasn’t included in my dream, that’s just me now thinking that would be a good time to make the switcheroo. 

So V!Loki kidnaps M!Loki and takes M!Loki’s place, and is killed by Thanos while keeping a stunning act up. No one thought he wasn’t the right Loki. Which is perfect. Obviously, V!Loki had to do something about M!Loki. Otherwise, M!Loki would go to Earth or wherever either during IW or after IW but before EG (depends travel time), which would change events. And V!Loki has a plan to keep M!Loki out of trouble until it is safe for him to come out. He has to take M!Loki off of the Statesman because otherwise M!Loki could die in the Power Stone incited explosion in IW. 

So V!Loki uses magic to knock out M!Loki who is not expecting to be attacked magically at all. Plus, V!Loki uses a type of magic that the Lokis are vulnerable to (I’m sorry, my dream did not explain magic lore lol) so M!Loki was basically screwed. V!Loki also put a spell on M!Loki that stopped him from using magic, just in case. So V!Loki is about to drag M!Loki off of the Statesman and to Chronyca. But then Hulk wanted to talk to Loki so V!Loki has to shove M!Loki into a space closet (that for some reason looked like the closet in Tangled? Just more futuristic and different colors.) Hulk was nice and said he didn’t want to smash Loki which was actually pretty sweet and V!Loki was thanking anyone that was listening because he’s from 2012 and had just barely been Hulk smashed. 

Hulk leaves, but M!Loki wakes up and is opening the closet door (I’m just realizing now that he was really now out for long). So V!Loki shapeshifts into some other form (he looked like an old man, kind of like Dick van Dyke in Night at the Museum) because it would be a little problematic if M!Loki knew he was being kidnapped by himself. M!Loki knew that he couldn’t use his magic, and he knew that he was kinda screwed, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He tried to manipulate V!Loki into a position that would give M!Loki an advantage, but he didn’t realize he was literally trying to manipulate himself. Which didn’t work out so well for him. Anyway, after a little knife skirmish and failed attempt to get help, M!Loki is once again knocked out by V!Loki. 

V!Loki skedaddles out of there, unconscious M!Loki in tow. V!Loki does more magic every once in a while to keep M!Loki asleep because dude just burns through magic sedation apparently. So V!Loki is stuck looking like Dick van Dyke, just in case M!Loki wakes up and sees him. At this point M!Loki is restrained because you can’t just not restrain him if you are kidnapping him. He isn’t an idiot, he’s ready to fight his kidnapper, and even if he could just mess with a couple buttons he could sabotage the ship. Better safe than sorry. After a while, V!Loki gets tired of constantly magically sedating M!Loki. He’s tied up, can’t do magic, and V!Loki has the advantage because M!Loki doesn’t know it’s another version of himself that is kidnapping himself. So he’s not too worried about M!Loki being awake while tied up (and blindfolded? He might have been though I’m not sure anymore). So M!Loki tries to get information off of his kidnapper but V!Loki just says that he needs M!Loki’s help with something, which isn’t actually a lie, he does need help with, oh, you know, saving the universe. So M!Loki is freaking out because nothing has happened like this since Thanos. He knows that unless something big changes he isn’t going to be able to escape and if this guy needs his help, he could be willing to torture him for it. He’s already kidnapped him and disabled Loki’s magic, who knows what else will happen. M!Loki says something about Thor because M!Loki had already established that he was sticking around, and now he’s gone. So he’s hoping that Thor won’t just think M!Loki ran off or whatever and will actually be concerned and know there’s a problem, but he’s honestly not so sure about that. And then V!Loki says that won’t be a problem, meaning that he can just use time travel to go back to the second after he leaves, so it’ll be like he never left. M!Loki takes this to mean that something happened to the remaining Asgardians and is worried about that. So now he’s freaking out over what he thinks happened to Thor and what he thinks will happen to him.

And M!Loki is pretty good and concealing his emotions and makes it look like he’s just a little fidgety because he’s tied up, but V!Loki sees the signs because he too would do something similar in that situation. So he’s feeling bad because this alternate future version of himself is on the brink of a panic attack and he is 99% this has something to do with Thanos, one of the experiences the two Lokis share, so he knows what M!Loki must be feeling. But V!Loki knows this is necessary so he deals with it. 

So they get to Chronyca. Chronyca is home of the chronicons, a race that observes and studies other races but never interferes, unless it is to prevent an extinction level threat (we see them in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.). So the chronicons are pretty suspicious about this random Dick van Dyke dude that shows up. V!Loki leaves M!Loki tied up in the ship and goes to the chronicons and turns back into V!Loki and has some TVA device that shows them what will happen if M!Loki dies and explains his plan to the chronicons. Seeing as this is preventing an extinction level threat of many peoples, the chronicons agree to help. 

V!Loki shapeshifts back to Dick van Dyke lookalike and goes onto the ship where M!Loki is (I’m pretty sure M!Loki was blindfolded now, but V!Loki still is shapeshifted in front of him just in case) and tells M!Loki something along the lines of everything being alright, and that M!Loki doesn’t have to panic. Well, as you can imagine, M!Loki doesn’t take this well. How would you react if you were kidnapped and your kidnapper said that it would be okay and that you don’t need to panic? Thinking that he’s going to go through a Thanos-like experience again, he promises that he’ll fight back and won’t be compliant. V!Loki says that he respects that and that M!Loki better tell anyone else that kidnaps him in the future the same thing. V!Loki knows about Thanos and still isn’t sure how he’d react in a similar situation because it had just barely happened to him whereas M!Loki has had years to sorta recover. V!Loki knocks M!Loki out to get him off the ship, but figures that M!Loki will wake up one more time before the next stage of the plan is put into action. 

The chronicons put M!Loki inside a chamber they use to send chronicons to distant planets they observe, which can double as a cryofreeze chamber (like in AoS). V!Loki takes the spell off M!Loki that stops him from using his powers. The chronicons strap M!Loki inside the chamber, tying him down, and V!Loki then enchants the straps to stop M!Loki from using magic. V!Loki waits until M!Loki wakes up, startled by the change of setting, no longer blindfolded. M!Loki is full on panicking now because this is the same position he was in when Thanos first tortured him, and V!Loki knows this and feels so bad that he is putting another version of himself through a panic attack. V!Loki uses magic to calm M!Loki’s mind and gives his final farewells. Tells him good luck, apologizes for this mess, and tells him that everything will be alright, and that the chronicons will keep him safe. Then he closes the chamber and turns the cryofreeze on, and in a few seconds M!Loki is in a coma. 

The chronicons promise to keep M!Loki safe until it is safe for him to be awakened. They set a timer on the chamber for six or seven years, and when the timer runs out the chamber will turn off and M!Loki will be awakened. It is possible that M!Loki will be snapped away by Thanos, but as long as they keep the chamber in the same position it was in whenn M!Loki was snapped, he would return there in five years and everything would be fine. The plan was to drop M!Loki off somewhere away from Chronyca with resources (food, water, ship, fuel) to get somewhere else. There would be a few chronicons to make sure everything went well and that he gets out safely. And if M!Loki does spot them, they’d tell him that in order to prevent extinctions they would at times interfere, and that a time travelling friend told them of a threat only Loki could stop, but he couldn’t stop if he was killed by Thanos. So the time traveler took Loki’s place to save him from Thanos and save the universe. 

And then he has to learn about IW and EG and he feels bad that he couldn’t do more but it wasn’t his fault and he feels bad that someone died for him but it wasn’t like he was given a choice. So then he has to go find Thor because he doesn’t think anyone else could possibly believe him (even with a message from V!Loki in the van Dyke disguise explaining the plan) and that’s how Loki ends up in Love and Thunder.

Like, absolutely crazy plot going on here, and I doubt it would ever happen in the MCU, but it would be cool.

#loki series #loki #infinity war #endgame #loki variant #chronyca #chronicons #agents of shield #would be absolutely crazy #also best dream EVER #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel

[korissideblog]

*skedaddling noises intensify*

anywho, Aito walked into school the first day and immediately robbed a guy </3

(also i think i forgot to mention that Aito's quirk requires verbal commands, and until she can hone it better, it's kinda more like hypnosis than actually commanding someone, so they won't do anything that they wouldn't do normally)

anywho, script under the cut bc i know that this is kinda hard to understand </3

Aito walks up to a random student looking at a piece of paper.

Aito: 'cuse me!

we only see her eye as it's uncovered and the student is instantly charmed, with little yellow sparkles around him.

Aito: I'm looking for my homeroom, can you take a look?

Aito holds up his schedule and points at it. "take a look" is in the same yellow as Aito's eyes, signifying that this is his request to the charmed student.

Student: Oh! you got Sato, down the hall and turn left.

while the student is focused on Aito's schedule, Aito takes the student's wallet from his pocket and, while pretending to scratch the back of her neck, slips the wallet into the back of her school jacket.

Aito: OK! Thanks man!

Aito takes back his schedule and walks away from the student. once eye contact is broken, the student becomes uncharmed, and seems confused by what happened

Aito lifts the back of his jacket and the wallet drops into his hand, giggling to himself.

Aito opens the wallet, still giggling as she pulls out the money inside.

Aito bumps into a shadowed figure

Aito moves a lock of hair out of his eyes in an attempt to charm the man she bumped into

Aito: sorry sir, I was just leaving, 'm looking for Osamu-

Aito: S-Sato...

Aito is shadowed as we see Osamu Sato (character by @dantelionwishes ) holding some papers, their height difference exaggerated as Sato looks down upon Aito. there's a large yellow explosion in the back as Sato is not charmed by Aito.

Sato: I'm well aware of your quirk, Takao.

Sato: I like the wallet, it's YOUR'S I assume.

Aito stutters a bit, their height difference again exaggerated as we see Aito looking up at Sato

Aito: this is actually a really cool story-

Aito zips away, leaving the wallet and money, running in the opposite direction as Sato sighs in disappointment

#this took literally forever for 0 reason whatsoever </3 #bnha oc comeback #Aito Takao #idk how to tag this </3

[zukkoxx]

mha boys jealous moments

w/ bakugo, deku, kirishima

warnings: slight season 3 spoilers, fem! reader

bakugo💥

bakugo rarely got jealous to be honest.

he was confident in your relationship and knew that you both loved each other more than you could express.

but there was something about the way that baldy, inasa yoarashi who used to go to shiketsu high school, talked to you so enthusiastically and made you laugh your ass off that had him fuming

it was the yearly meet up for the strange friend group, bakugo, todoroki, inasa, camie, and y/n.

the group that had to retake their license exam during high school, which resulted into a weird friendship that had the five meeting up every year to catch up.

the meet up itself was normal. at a fancy restaurant in a private area with an interesting conversation going on.

you were sitting between bakugo and inasa.

somehow, the conversation of first dates was brought up, and everyone was sharing the interesting stories of their first one.

todoroki explained how his first date was with momo, since everyone seemed to like them together. but it made him realize they had absolutely nothing in common

especially when it came to tea…

camie told everyone about how her first date was with some sleaze who only wanted her body for one night, which had you shaking your head is disgust.

anyways, the conversation resulted into you hearing about inasa’s first date, where he explained he was so nervous that his quirk went off involuntarily, blowing the food everywhere.

his enthusiastic story telling and the details he added had you laughing up a storm.

you were so engrossed in the story, that you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend staring at the man with an expression that could only be considered as pure acrimony

what the hell was so funny about what this baldy was saying?

“inasa that’s too crazy! i can’t believe that happened.” you breathed out, going to wipe some stray tears away from your eyes.

inasa looked at you with pure delight, pride filling his chest at the fact that he made you laugh so intensely.

you turned your head to look at bakugo who you hadn’t really been paying much attention to for most of the night.

right away you noticed his familiar grimace, that seemed way more irate than usual.

“what’s wrong kats?” you ask absentmindedly, taking a sip of your drink.

he just shook his head at you before looking at inasa. “that’s a pretty funny story baldy…” he mutters. “you know, my first date was with this beauty right here.” your boyfriend nudges you with a half smirk. “only girl i thought was capable enough to handle me.”

“i can see why. y/n’s quite fierce. i’d assumed she’d be able to put you in your place every now and then.” inasa shrugged, a competitive glint forming in his eyes.

“put me in my place?” bakugo scoffed. “please, a few dates after our first one, i already had her screaming under me. she could barely keep up.”

you gasp, turning to bakugo and slapping his hard bicep. “katsuki! why would you say that?”

he just chuckled, watching as inasa suddenly grew flustered and looked away. “just had to make sure that baldy knew who you’d be going home with tonight.” he kissed your cheek, and you turned away from him, pouting in embarrassment

deku 🥦

we know this precious boy had insecurities growing up, but as he got older they went away bit by bit

you played a big part in it. always reassuring him that he was perfect the way he is and he had nothing to be insecure about.

but being pro heroes and being in the public eye almost all the time did leave some room for those wondering thoughts and doubts to creep back up.

fortunately, izuku found new ways to handle those feelings. gave them head on with confidence like he did with most of his problems.

it was a cool night, and you and your boyfriend had just got done kicking some villain’s ass. of course, tons of reporters were surrounding you both.

“miss (hero name)! how would u describe the performance of both you and deku tonight!”

“was this particular villain hard to fight off? you seem a little more hazed than usual!”

you tired to answer every question as quick as possible, but one particular question you wish you didn’t hear had to stumped to the core.

“have you heard about the recent news of you being shipped with another pro-hero?” the reporter asked.

“wha…no.” you tried to respond, but the question just seemed to get other reporters more hyped.

“much of the public believe you should be with another pro-hero! one that matches your style more!”

“people are predicting the end of h/n and deku! what do you have to say about that?”

“um, no me and izu-ah deku are completely fine. i would never leave him!” you try to retaliate.

“but there are tons of other heroes who have their eyes on you h/n! it’d be stupid to not give them a chance!”

you scoffed at the reporter’s words, trying to go against what they were saying when you suddenly felt a hand wrap your waist and a big frame stand behind you.

“don’t you think if h/n and i weren’t perfect for each other, we’d have broken up already?” izuku comes into frame with a hard expression, his question leaving the reporters speechless.

“it’s been so many years, i don’t think we would continue to torture ourselves in an uncommitted relationship if we didn’t love each other, right h/n”

you nodded feverishly, letting izuku take over as he looked directly into the camera “oh, and to all the pro-heroes who have their eyes on my girlfriend, you better keep that fantasy in your head, cause this girl is all mine.”

he gave you an affection squeeze on the hips before pulling you away to the car.

you sighed out in relief and turned to him with a big smile. “thank you for helping me back there izu.” you smile, and peck his cheek.

“of course. anything for you but…you don’t actually think about being with other heroes? right?” you could basically see the sweat running down the side of his face.

“of course not! you’re my one and only deku.” you smile as he leans in, placing a loving kiss on your lips

kirishima 🪨

it’s really hard for kiri to get jealous

he just thinks everyone has positive motives and doesn’t like to assume the worst.

but when it’s really obvious someone is flirting with you, he’ll get involved quicker than he can harden.

you were out shopping with your red haired boyfie, and he had walked away for a bit to look at the men’s section.

it was only about five minutes when a weird looking man approached you, his aura already feeling off

“hey there sexy lady! saw you looking all pretty over here and i just had to talk to ya” he smiled crookedly, making you cringe.

“i’m flattered but, i have a boyfriend.” you try to smile, turning away and shuffling through clothes.

“well i don’t see him around.” the man says.

that’s always their response. isn’t it?

“he’s just over there in the men’s section. so i’d really appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“come on baby! there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun! i’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

god if this man says one more thing to me i swear i’ll-

“you thought wrong sir.” you hear kirishima say, his usual voice dropping a few octaves making the man in front of you clench up.

“i know she’s already told you she had a boyfriend. what will it take for you to leave her alone hm?”

“i’m sorry dude-“

“yeah you are. now get out of here of while you can still walk.” kiri said, making the man skedaddle.

after he was out of sight, your boyfriend put a hand on his chest and let out a breath. “jeez that was scary babe!”

“eijiro, you’re a pro hero who fights scary villains all the time.”

“yeah! but the thought of someone stealing my baby away is my biggest fear!” he yells.

you laugh “good thing that’ll never happen babe.”

posted 7/1/21

really sorry about kiri’s being a little shorter. anyways hope you guys liked this. i’ll be answering requests tomorrow. it’s about 3:30 AM where i am rn so i’ll get some sleep and work on them right away. hope you liked this. leave a request here -> 🥀

gn loves! <3

#my hero headcanons #my hero academia #izuku x reader #deku x reader #deku imagine #deku x y/n #izuku x y/n #deku x you #izuku x you #izuku headcanons #deku fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo headcanons #bakugo imagine #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #eijirou kirishima imagine #eijirou x y/n #mha fluff

[stormyoceansmain]

The tsunami episodes (there are 2, Sink Or Swim and The Searchers) are extremely good actually. Dude 1 and Dude 2's kid are on a pier when the waves hit and it's all about them trying to get to safety and also it's pretty damn heartbreaking in places. Like at one point they're separated and D1 literally screams himself hoarse looking for the kid. Once kiddo is back safely with his dad D1 is all 'ah, yes good, shocking out time now' and just drops.

Oh and D2's wife both left him AND died. She ran off when kid was 5, reunited with them briefly, asked for a divorce and was promptly hit by a car.

anon this probably wasn't your intention but you just made a great argument for me to start watching this show. i was reading that tsunami part and rubbing my lil gremlin hands together because that kind of angst? DELICIOUS. devastating, for sure, as in im probably gonna be left on a sobbing pile on the floor if i ever decide to watch it, but also [CHEF'S KISS] Y E S. give me that sweet sweet angst with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort on top (i do hope mr. dilf brought both his kid and the other dude back home and made them sleep in his bed until he was sure they were okay)

also amuse me for a second, because there are a couple of question that sprang up in my mind while reading your message, like:

1) jesus christ how long have these two been coparenting that kid

2) so let me get this straight. this dude - mr diaz - looked at this guy and went 'i trust you with my son's life so much im gonna make you his legal guardian if i die'. now, idk this dude's life, idk if he currently has a girlfriend or a boyfriend or any kind of significant other, but i do presume he has some family members that - presumably - helped him raise the kid after his wife skedaddled. but instead of leaving his kid to them, he's just like 'no no no. i want this guy. because (i assume from this tsunami experience) i know he is going to raise hell to make sure my kid will be safe'. so yeah, i guess my question is has anyone ever told mr diaz that ain't exactly friends behaviour???? has anyone told the WRITERS?????? BECAUSE - and i cannot stress this enough - THAT AIN'T EXACTLY JUST FRIENDS BEHAVIOUR.

also im sorry about the wife i guess. i mean im not sure i vibe with her (she better have a damn good reason for leaving her son behind, imho), but the writers weren't very kind to her so that sucks

#the more i learn about these two dudes the more im like.. bewildered at the fact that they are not actually a thing #like he made the dude his child's LEGAL GUARDIAN #you don't pick friends for that??????? #i feel the insanity taking over oh no #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox

[hobisbeech]

Even the drug dealer likes you | K.T

Stoner!Reader and StonerBFF! Taehyung talk about readers dry spells.

Posted: 03/29/2021

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[y/n] laid on her bed, scrolling through the app as her hair tangled up on her pillow. She had been intrigued by this fan fiction story she had found on tumblr. Her favorite kpop idol was written in a best friend to lovers aspect. She cooed over the cover picture. Pining over the one person she knew would never even know she existed.

Letting out an exasperated whimper, [y/n] scrolled down slowly reading:

(Kpop idols name) had been watching you, dancing ridiculously in front of him. In his living room, on his big screen TV, was a live stream of (your fav artist name) performing all of their top hits. [y/n] glanced back making sure her best friend was enjoying his time just as much as she was. He stood up, taking a few steps to reach her. He slid his arms around her waist from behind, startling her with his actions. “Oh gosh! You scared me doofus!” [y/n] turned around quickly slapping him harshly on his arm. A small rumble of a laugh escaped his throat. He grabbed you again, now pushing you closer to his chest, his hands once again landing around your waist.

You scoffed at the action, how could she just fall for that trick, you thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as you turned to your side, hugging the small decorative pillow to your chest. Knowing very well why the writer wrote this cheesy scene. You screeched, your voice instantly reaching a new level of highness. You knew from a readers point of view, this was exactly what you wanted. The concept had you eating from the palm of their hands and you did not mind at all. At least, you never exactly admitted it. You were a sucker for love. You knew that no one or nothing was going to change that. You huffed, this time it’ll be different. This time I will be strong. You looked back at your screen and continued reading:

“What do you think you’re doing?” [y/n] with doe eyes looked up, nervous at what her best friend was thinking of doing. (Kpop idols name) looked at her, a small hint of embarrassment showing on his cheeks. He looked away, he cursed at himself internally. Get it together man, he thought to himself. He mustered the courage to look at her again, he placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now. How crazy you make me. I go to sleep thinking about you. And I wake up to the thought of you.” He caressed your cheek, and with his arm around your waist he pulled you in closer to him.

He looked straight into your eyes, lustfully gazing into them, he whispered “Can I kiss you, jagi?”

You groaned loudly. This was just a very very cheesy story. You rolled your eyes dramatically, and laid on your back. “Ugh! Why do I always read these?!” You rubbed at your face, dropping your phone on your side. “They only make me feel even lonelier..” you exasperated, spacing out with just a blank stare up at the ceiling fan. You couldn’t believe that once again you were in this predicament. You laid there thinking about what had happened to you the weekend before. With a scowl on your face, you groaned again feeling hopeless about your non existent sex life. And the invincible blue balls that pulsed loudly in between your thighs.

—————-

—————-

The guy you had been talking to had invited you over to hang out one day. Knowing how your conversations with him had taken a turn to SEX-ville. You had made sure to prep the day before. Making sure whatever needed to be shaven and trimmed, was. You made sure you wore your best outfit, and also the easiest to take off. When you had arrived at his place, everything seemed as if it was going according to plan.

You both had rolled a blunt to have a smoke session together. And had a comedy movie playing in the background. You sat comfortably on his living room couch, lighting the blunt you had just finished rolling. Taking a few hits from it you passed it to him. The night had just settled in and the blunts were now nothing but small roaches that were put out on the ashtray that laid lazily on the over beaten coffee table.

The handsome guy had turned his gaze to you, lazily tracing small circles on your exposed knee. Your now low and bloodshot eyes, looked at him. With a small smile, he leaned closer. Leaving the smallest of space between you both. You could feel his breath settle and then fade from your lips. You knew you couldn’t deny him, so you made the first move. Closing the space between you both with a kiss. He snaked his hand behind your neck, keeping you steady. Not wanting to break the kiss, he began slowly caressing your body. Pinching your nipples through your blouse. He engulfed your small/medium/large breast in his large hand.

You whimpered in between kisses.

Leaning your head back, breaking the kiss, “That feels so good. It would feel better if I took my shirt off.” As you were reaching for the bottom hem of your blouse he stopped you. “I’m sorry, [y/n]. I know this got heated so fast but I can’t really do anything tonight. I have work in a few hours. I hope you understand.” This was the 3rd friggin’ time he had pulled that meaningless excuse on you, you internally scowled.

“Yeah yeah totally. I get it.” You sighed, with a small smile you adjusted your shirt and flattened it down to get rid of some of the wrinkles.

“Are you sure [y/n]? I hope I didn’t send any mix signals or anything?” He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling a bit of shame, his cheeks blooming with a soft pink for leaving you high and bothered. Mix signals?! You screamed internally.

You shrugged him off and smiled, “yeah definitely. We’re good. What time is it?” You asked, feeling your hands fiddle with the end of your blouse. “Oh uh,” he anxiously tapped at his phone screen. “It’s 9:30pm.”

“Oh okay cool, I’ll go ahead and skedaddle then,”

you nervously chuckled.

You both stood up quickly. He nervously laughed, and with a faint blush on his face, he handed you your purse and keys that you had aimlessly thrown on his couch when you had first arrived. “Thank you,” you said with a small bow. He smiled at you again now a little brighter.

“I’ll walk you out,” he informed you as he stepped in front of you. You followed him, with your head bowed and a blush that threatened to appear. He opened the door and moved to the side so you had room to exit. You looked back at him once again and he waved you goodbye. You walked away as quickly as possible, not hearing him call out to you that he had a great time. You unlocked your car and hopped in. Turning your engine on as quickly as possible, you burned off. Leaving behind black streaks from the burned rubber of your tires on the road.

Could this night get any worse? You thought to yourself.

____________

____________

“[y/n-ahh]” your best friend loudly yelled from your living room. “What time was the plug gonna come and drop off ? I wanna smoke already,” he whined, leaning his head back on the couch. His long bangs falling awkwardly around his face.

You chuckled, and quickly checked your phone. You grabbed your closed packaged cigarillos from your top drawer in your bedroom and, scanned for the text message from your weed man telling you how far he was from your place.

Stepping into the living room, you dropped yourself beside him. With a smile you answered your handsome best friend, “He should be here in a few mins. He doesn’t live far, Taehyung.”

Your brown mullet haired friend huffed, dropping his hand on your thigh heavily. “Gosh, it sounds like he’s never gonna make it here,” you chuckled, placing your hand under his chin and scratching at his now 2 week old scruff.

You rolled your eyes, “dude we literally smoked this morning. How could you possibly be this needy now?”

Taehyung raised his head and gave you a knowing look, “you’re one to talk!” He spatted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Taehyung had a long list of things that could possibly make him needy but this wasn’t one of them.

“Why can’t I just get laid? Why doesn’t anyone want my pussy?” He whined in his best impression of you. When he was done he gave you another knowing look. “Hey! That’s not fair!” You yelled back, “at least I don’t brag about how many cheeks I’ve clapped this week.”

You sulked this time, crossing your own arms in front of you. You didn’t turn to look at your best friend. If you had, you would’ve seen the mischievous smirk on his face. He loved it when you sulked. Just watching you pout and be upset about something was one of many things he liked about you.

In fact, he could practically see himself with you. But he couldn’t tell you that. Of course not. Who the fuck knows how you would react if he was to ever confess to you how much he liked you. Scratch that. How inlove he was with you, his best friend. Before, he could continue on this tangent he had unconsciously dug himself in, you abruptly moved. Standing up from the spot that was slowly molding into you.

You opened your door, seeing your weed man, Yoongi, awkwardly standing there waiting with expectant eyes. You smiled, “hey man! Thank you so much for this. Best friend over there is having a cow because I supposedly finished our weed this morning. When in fact he smoked the last of it with me.” You told your plug, grabbing the money you owed him from your pocket. You quickly glanced back, sticking your tongue out at Taehyung. Your black haired friend, chuckled looking behind you at Taehyung, whom he had met a handful of times. “No worries man, I tell jagi all the time, a friend with weed is a friend indeed. Enjoy man! This is some fire shit.” With a smirk on his face, he winks at you, “bye jagi, let me know how you like this. I’ll catch you later.” Before you could even muster a response he was already halfway down your hallway leaving you with only a silhouette to make out.

You slowly closed your front door, absentmindedly locking it. “Did my plug just flirt with me?” You questionably looked at Taehyung. Taehyung was still in shock that even your weed man was throwing moves at you. He shook the thoughts away.

“wow ! [y/n] he probably likes you. He even told you to let him know if you liked his weed,” Taehyung, quickly smiled and as quick as his smile came it left his bronzed face. He snatched the medium sandwich bag from your hand, “thank you oh so much my dear [y/n]”

“Oh hush up and just roll us a blunt. I’ve had it rough these past couple of days.” You inform him, shrugging off any hint of annoyance your best friend was giving off. Taehyung made himself comfortable on the couch again, reaching for your new blue grinder you had recently purchased. He didn’t say anything else to you, letting the comfortable silence swallow you both.

Taehyung had managed to roll 4 blunts and still left weed for you guys to smoke at a later time. You had started playing some soft (genre) music you and Taehyung could enjoy. You relaxed into the couch and sparked up the first blunt. You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times and passed it to him.

“Tae why is it that I can’t get laid?” You randomly asked your best friend, laying your head back. “I mean let me elaborate. Why is it that I can’t just have a good fuck? It feels like I have to go through an obstacle course just to get a guy to notice me.” You ranted to your best friend, grabbing the blunt between your index finger.

“I think the guys get too intimidated with how easy going you are. And feel like they’re not good enough for you.” Taehyung responds, twisting his body to face you as he exhaled the rest of the smoke he had in his mouth.

You turned your face to him, “what do you mean? Isn’t that a good thing ? That I can just go with the flow,” you added, dropping your gaze and taking a hit from the blunt he had passed to you. Taehyung smirked, he scooted closer to you placing his hand as gently as possible on your cheek. “My dear jagi, you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You tolerate me, you don’t really complain when I rant to you, you listen to me when I rant about the girls I’ve talked to, and even scratch my hair whenever I ask. Like come on best friend ! You are the whole package. You even cook food for us, for when the munchies hit.” He explained, listing the reasons one by one of why you were the best person you could possibly be.

Feeling the high rush to your head, you chuckled lightly, as you took a couple more hits from the blunt and passed it to your brown mullet haired friend. “Taehyung-ie can I ask you something?” You quirked up, leaning closer to him, your shoulders resting on one another. He nodded, exhaling the smoke he had just inhaled. “If you didn’t know me personally, would you smash me?” You asked, looking down quickly, not wanting Taehyung to see how red you were getting.

He coughed, and coughed some more. It had taken him about a minute or two and some water for him to stabilize himself from all the coughing. You looked at him again, “I shouldn’t have asked that. You practically almost died on me,” you dropped your gaze, you hadn’t meant to make your best friend uncomfortable. You just thought since both minds were foggy now he would just see it as a funny question. He probably didn’t even see me like that, you thought to yourself.

“Wait wait wait..” Taehyung spoke, he scooted closer to you. Intertwining both your hands with his, he laid them in his lap. The small smoken nub of a blunt long forgotten on the ashtray placed on the coffee table. Looking straight into your bloodshot eyes, he smiled. “Babygirl, I love you. And if you ever gave me the chance I would in a heartbeat jump your bones.” He kept his eyes locked on you, “and I mean it,” his voice had dropped an octave. Sounding a bit more deep and lustful.

You only heard that voice when both of you would fall asleep together and he would try to wake you up in the morning to ask you where you had your tea bags. Most of the time he was just a big fluff ball that loved flirting with you. Your thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the back of his hand.

“Would you ever let me?” He softly asked you, the words coming out as a slight whisper. He looked down at your entwined hands and smiled.

You observed him, did your best friend like you like that? How long has he had these thoughts? Did you like him like that? Or was it just the fact that you hadn’t had any luck in the guy department and Taehyung was offering? You shook the thoughts away. “Would I let you?” You hesitantly repeated his question, he nodded giving you one of his knowing smiles.

“Yeah, I would.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulged out, he didn’t believe you.

“No cap?”

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly “yessir.”

Instantly Taehyung jumped on you pushing you back, to lay on the couch. He was now on top of you. His thighs straddling your lap. He chuckled, wrapping his arms under your shoulders, he placed his head on the crook of your neck and you lovingly wrapped your arms over his broad shoulders. He snuggled into you, “jagi I’m sorry that that guy gave you blue balls. I can help you if you need some release.” He suggested not daring to look up at you.

You stiffened, wow Tae was just coming out with so many surprises. How on earth could he help you? you didn’t necessarily want an answer to that question. “Um uh- Tae wouldn’t that ruin our friendship or something? I don’t want you to look at me any different.” You hid your gaze behind his hair, your hand had sneaked into his locks and just scratched away at your worries. Taehyung propped himself up, caging your head between his forearms. “Jagi I will never look at you differently. You are my best friend for crying out loud. You’ve seen me naked, and I’ve seen you naked,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you his crackhead signature smirk.

“Taehyung! Stop!”

You playfully yelled at him, smacking his arm.

“Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted,” he nipped at your neck.

“I was saying,” he bit lower under your ear.

He lowered his voice to a lustrous whisper, with a deep tone he spoke, “I’ve always daydreamed what it would be like to finally have you under me.” He exhaled a deep breath fanning over your exposed neck.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have you quiver under me, to have you beg me for more,” once again his voice timbered out his mouth, violating your ears. Intruding your every thought, you were getting turned on.

“Tae,” you whimpered looking up at him.

His eyes were glossy from the smoke, but they also showed love.

Love for you is all he had, a ginormous amount of nothing but love. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked you, searching your eyes for any discomfort. You shake your head no. “I love you Taehyung, and I would love you even more if you showed me what else that mouth of yours can do.” Your devilish voice had made an appearance, wiggling your eyebrows at him, you smirked.

“Oh?” Taehyung laughed, dropping his head on the crook of your neck again.

“Oh yeah? You wanna see how my tongue would feel on your precious cunt?”

His tongue had trailed a soft wet line from the crook of your neck all the way up to your earlobe. He had sucked on the skin taking it in between his teeth.

Your body shivered, revealing small goosebumps. “Yes I wanna know how you would touch me. I want you to tell me Tae.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together. His voice alone was turning you the fuck on. Taehyung couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was because he was stoned like no other and he tended to drift off in day dream land from time to time.

He sat up on his bent knees. He slowly took his t-shirt off letting it fall beside him. He reached down for yours, “may I?” He asked you. You nodded smiling up at him as he reached to take your shirt off. Letting it drop beside you.

He whistled,

“wow, ladies and gentlemen jagi did not have a bra under that shirt,”

he reached for your breasts kneading at them both softly.

“I remember the times you would walk around in just a t-shirt and panties,”

He let out a deep full husk groan.

“It was the most magnificent sight, I ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes on.” With his thumb he rubbed at your nipple until it perked up on its own. You whined, the feeling that was exuding from his touch was enticing.

His voice and his words were enchanting you. The way Taehyung's voice would bounce around between the walls in your living room. Was impeccable. You had no idea how much power his tone held. It made your insides tremble. All you wanted now was for Tae’s tongue to finally make contact with your cunt.

“Taeee, please!” you whimpered, your body squirming underneath him. It was instant, like a switch had turned on within him. He pinned you down, holding your arms beside your head. He had his knee pushing up your core. Your legs instantly spread open for him.

“Tsk tsk tsk, who’s the needy one now?” He lowered his voice and whispered into your ear. “I can already tell you are wet just by the sound of my voice,” his deep voice bluntly stated.

You couldn’t help but move, you wanted nothing but friction. Something to just release you if only for a moment. His thigh stayed still between you. You could feel your vagina folds rub against the fabric of your underwear. Wetter and wetter it got.

“Is my jagi trying to rub herself against my thigh?”

He asked, tilting his head sideways with a small flirty grin on his face.

[y/n] exasperated, you couldn’t believe that this moment was actually happening. Your body was burning for Taehyung’s touch. You wanted him to just touch you. Caress your skin. Feel the amble of your breasts. Run his fingernails down your chest. You wanted his long fingers trail down and douse in your essence. You wanted him to fill you up with his digits. Make you unravel with just his precious fingers. You stared into his eyes, they were now a dark glossy brown. His pupils had been dilated due to the amount of marijuana he had smoked. He was intoxicating. You could feel this heat type of energy radiating off of him. Every time his hand would touch you, it burned. Your body was exuding heat, your thoughts twirled in your mind. His essence had completely taken over you. You had submitted to your best friend, you were ready for him.

“Taehyung please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me.” You whined through gritted teeth. You couldn’t take it anymore and absentmindedly grinded against his thigh. Feeling the pressure from his knee on your clothed core, it felt great. But it wasn’t enough, you needed to come undone connected.

Taehyung looked down at his knee, the sight his eyes had set on, was mouth watering. Seeing you, a whining mess grinding on his knee, was the last straw for him. He grabbed your thigh, stopping you. He grabbed your sweats and underwear roughly pulled them down. You moved your hips upwards and let him finish undressing you. He continued by unriddening himself of his pants, pushing his boxers down with them.

He pumped himself a couple of times using his own pre cum as lubricant. Just watching you, fully exposed in front of him made him crazy. He aligned himself in front of your entrance. Picking up one of your thighs for more leverage. He looked down at you, his gaze softer now. His eyebrows furrowed, he whispered, “you can tell me to get off at any time and we’ll stop.” He searched your eyes for a minute for any discomfort you might’ve been experiencing.

You smiled, raising your hand to softly caress his cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to take care of me. I love you so much, but Taehyung baby I’m gonna need you to fuck me into this couch.” You stated brusquely, grabbing on to his waist and pulled him into you.

You moaned loudly looking into Taehyung’s eyes as his face contorted, dropping to his forearms around your head. Your legs had wrapped nicely around his waist holding him still in this position.

“Ohhh fuck jagi you’re even wetter than I thought. A-are you okay for me to move?” He asked, staring back at you.

You smirked, wrapping your arms around him, “go to town baby.”

____________

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A couple orgasms later, you were both nakedly sprawled out on the couch. Out of breath and slightly sweaty. You both looked at each other lovingly. His dorky boxy smile on full display. Not wanting to move he scooted his hand closer to yours. Sending you a knowing look to take his hand in yours. You returned his smile, a blush sneaking to your cheeks.

So many thoughts had run through your mind. This handsome man that you had met so long ago. Who you became close to overtime. Was gazing at you stupidly in love. You probably didn’t know what was going to happen next.

But one thing for sure,

Taehyung might be your quirky best friend, that needs your full attention at all times.

At the end he was the one that had your legs trembling, and screaming his name. You were the lucky one in this happy ending.

#hobisbeech #bts v #bts taehyung #taehyung x you #bts fic #best friend taehyung #stoner!taehyung #stoner!reader #hi im selena and im pretty toasty right now #if you see this tag please enjoy your stay :) #hobisbeech masterlist #bts au fanfic #bts au fic

[disneygirl626]

Hey y’all! Since the other one shot I shared was such a success, I decided to share another one!

Avengers x Teen!Reader :Words:

"What's the funniest word?"

Clint looked away from the movie he'd been watching and stared at his friend for a second in confusion. "What?"

"What's the funniest word?" (Y/n) Stark repeated.

"Like, ever?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"It's for a paper."

"You're writing a paper on funny words? A college paper?" Clint asked, almost scoffing in disbelief.

(Y/n) dropped her eyes back down to her laptop that was sitting contently on her lap. It was not for a paper.

"Yes."

"Why on earth are you writing a paper on funny words? What class is this for?" Clint said, reaching for the laptop. "No, you can't have it!" she shouted, grabbing the laptop and scooting away.

"Why?" Clint asked with a laugh. (Y/n) moved to an arm chair and placed her legs over the arm rest and the laptop in her lap.

"Cause," (Y/n) said slowly. She didn't have a good enough reason for him to not see her laptop yet. Well, other than he couldn't know this wasn't for a class. He'd just tease her. And while yes, this was a pretty good reason for him to tease the younger girl, she was not in the mood.

"It's not for a class!" Clint scoffed, tossing a pillow at her head. She didn't look up in time to dodge the flying object and was hit square in the face. In retaliation, she chucked the pillow back at him. Being the spy and assassin he was, he dodged easily.

"I thought you two weren't allowed to have anymore pillow fights after the TV was broken during the last one," Natasha said, plopping down on the couch next to Clint. Steve appeared shortly after and sat in the arm chair next to (Y/n).

"It's not a pillow fight. Yet. (Y/n) was asking what the funniest word I know is and won't tell me why. She claims its for a 'class'," Clint said, placing air quotes around 'class'.

"Which class?" Natasha asked.

"Uhhh...."

"My point is proven," Clint said, leaning back against the couch. Quickly realizing she was fighting a losing battle, (Y/n) gave a dramatic sigh and chucked another pillow at Clint's head. Again, he dodged.

"Fine, it's not for a class. Peter and I are having a debate on the funniest word we can find. Loser has to do the other's homework for three weeks," (Y/n) said.

"Who's the judge?" Steve asked.

"Our friend, MJ," (Y/n) replied as she began typing.

"What do you guys have so far?" Clint asked.

She paused before answering, finishing whatever she was typing, then said, "Peter has: Skedaddle, Cattywampus, Kerfuffle, and Lollygag. I have: Nincompoop, Pumpernickle, Brouhaha, and Discombobulated."

"How many do you need?" Natasha asked.

"Six," (Y/n) said as she began typing again. "Brouhaha is a word, right?" she asked, looking up.

Steve reached for his phone and began typing. "Brouhaha. A noisy or overexcited reaction to something, according to Google," the super soldier said after a moment, looking up at the younger girl. (Y/n) grinned and began typing again.

"Any word suggestions?" (Y/n) asked after a minute.

"Defenestration. It means to throw someone out the window," Natasha said. (Y/n) blinked at the assassin, not sure if she wanted to know how her friend knew that word. "As great as that word is, I don't think it's funny enough," (Y/n) said.

"Bamboozled is a good one," Clint said.

"Or swigger. It's 40s slang for a drinker," Steve said after a minute. "Steve's wins," (Y/n) said, typing on her laptop again. "Steve wins what?" Tony asked, walking in and sitting in the arm chair on the other side of the coffee table.

"Peter and I are having a funny word contest. Loser has to do winner's homework for a month," (Y/n) said, not looking up.

"Snickersnee," Natasha said. "What's that one mean?" Steve asked. "It's a large knife," Natasha said.

"Why are all of your words violent?" Clint asked, chuckling. Natasha shrugged with a small smile and turned back to her phone.

The group helped (Y/n) come up with a last funny word, then went about their ways. (Y/n) met up with Peter and MJ a few hours later to determine the winner.

The three friends sat in the college library. Peter and (Y/n) were waiting not-so-patiently while MJ looked over each of the lists. Peter was almost sure she was just taking this long to mess with them.

"MJ, c'mon, it's been thirty minutes now," (Y/n) said.

"Fine. (Y/n) wins," MJ replied, handing them their lists.

"What?" Peter exclaimed.

"Sorry, Pete. Discombobulated is the best word to ever exist," MJ said with a shrug. (Y/n) laughed and high-fived her friend. Peter groaned, but had a playful smile on his face.

"I'll get you my homework tomorrow," (Y/n) said with a smirk as the group began gathering their things to leave. "Yeah, yeah," Peter said, rolling his eyes with a small smile.

(Y/n) laughed and the three left.

----

"So who won?"

(Y/n) looked up from the actual paper she was writing this time. It'd been almost a month since the contest, and she'd nearly forgotten about it. "What?"

"The funny word contest. Who won?" Clint asked.

(Y/n) laughed. "How'd you just now remember that? It's been almost a month, Clint!"

"I dunno, it just came to me. Now who won?"

"I did."

"Yeah!" Clint shouted, fist-bumping (Y/n). (Y/n) laughed as Clint turned back to watching his movie.

"So did Peter ask you out yet?"

"CLINT!"

(Y/n) picked up another pillow and chucked it at his head, and this time, the unsuspecting archer was hit in the back of the head.

"FINALLY!"

"Oh, it's so on, Stark!" Clint shouted, picking up another pillow. They pillow fought to their heart's content. Well, more like until the sent a pillow through the window.

#avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #marvel #avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #reader inserts #x readers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #peter parker #clint barton #tony stark #bruce banner #thor odinson #michelle jones #ned leeds

[qvid-pro-qvo]

we meet now and then on a winter’s day (and i am all the better for it)

rafael barba x female!reader. 

word count: 13,187 (forgive me for either writing less than a thousand words or over 10k. one day i’ll learn moderation.)

rating: teen, for growing pains, and learning to love home no matter where you are (canon-typical mentions of sexual abuse/sex crimes). 

link to it on AO3. 

-

You’re too clumsy for your own good. 

Your limbs are gangly, your feet are too big, and every step feels like a struggle to stay upright.  It’s the worst of times, tenth grade.

And high schoolers are brutal, and you get a feeling it’s extra so in New York.  They don’t take no for an answer, they laugh in your face and spit on you (figuratively… sometimes). Girls trip you in their stunning shoes that your feet could never fit in, poke at your knobby knees, and boys don’t even bother with you.

You’re new, and a loner, and can’t keep your books in your hands, and it all seems to combine into an ugly cocktail, one that makes you lash out. Other loners usually have one thing wrong with them. You have two left feet and a name no one knows. Easy target.

So you don’t see the three boys in front of you, walking home, because your head is ducked and your knees ache from the way you fell in the middle of the damn hallway. And one of them for sure doesn’t see you. He’s walking backwards, his mouth running, but you don’t hear anything either, not what he’s saying, not his friends who try to warn him in attempts of Spanish and English. 

You feel the collision, though. It’s not violent, but the girth of his bookbag into your chest knocks you backwards onto your ass. You cry out in pain, one of your ankles catching underneath you, and it feels like something twists, hard enough to hurt. 

Well. It wasn’t as if you were having such a good day before.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, and when you look up, a boy is leaning over you. His green eyes are startling, and you think he’s apologizing, but your eyes have to blink away some reflexive tears to really see the way his lips are moving. You’re still dazed, but you realize that it’s three of them, leaning over you, and you don’t like the way they’re staring.

“That’s what you get for running your mouth, Barba,” a boy teases, reaching forward to punch the kid directly above you in the shoulder. He takes it, but he’s still focused on you, those eyes not giving you a break. It makes your face redden, and you dip your chin, clench your jaw.

“Shut it, Eddie,” he says quickly, and it takes you a moment to recognize the words. You just manage a tight smile and groan as you shift off of your ankle. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell him. He nods at that, but he still doesn’t really take a step back. Just pulls up from his crouched position. “Really, just. Uh. Sorry, I guess.”

“You don’t have to give him an excuse,” the third boy informs her. “Hey, Rafi, give her some space, you don’t have to keep her on the ground.”

With that he pulls back, and you get a good look at them. The three of them are in uniform. You recognize the colors, your block a healthy mix of that particular school’s students and the P.S. you attended. The two behind the one who ran into you – what was it, Rafi? – have their ties undone, shirts untucked. The boy in front of you has his uniform perfect, however, and you watch as he lifts his hand to run through the front of his hair. He looks a little older, almost adult, and your limbs feel like the legs of a fawn, a jumbled heap. You know you look disheveled, in comparison, making you drop your eyes before you push yourself up.

“Can you stand?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you bite out, and the day comes back to you in a wave, one that makes your eyes began to water. “Just. Leave me be, all right?”

“And leave you on the ground?” He scoffs like the implication itself is an offense. It’s as if he doesn’t recognize the scowl on your face as being directed towards him. “Come on, take my hand.”

He reaches out to you. His hand is almost shoved in your face, and you pull back for a moment before looking at the group of them.

They don’t seem… mean. Just… boys. Your mother’s voice sings in your head, reminding you that asking for help isn’t a weakness, just a fact of life. And while you wish that wasn’t true, the fact of life was also you were in a lot of pain.

With a sigh, you settle on reaching out and taking it, and when he starts to help pull you up the other two assist. You tried to ignore the prickle of your eyes, closing them as you were lifted from the ground.

However, your ankle gives out as soon as you put weight on it. You make it to your full height for a moment, before suddenly you’re falling forward again.

But they catch you. Rafi does, really, and the other boys help get you to standing. You ignore the look that the two of them give you, eye rolls and shared smirks.

“That ankle’s not going to take you home,” the Barba kid tells you. You glance down at it, wincing at the swelling, and he turns to his friends. “Let’s walk her.”

“Oh, no, did you break it?” Eddie asks, horrified, but that earns him a smack on the back of the head from the third friend.

“Que eres estúpido? Shut up, Eddie, it’s twisted at the worst.”

A snort left you. You can’t get a word in edgewise, the way they start clambering over each other, arguing, but you raise your voice, make yourself heard. “I’m just… hey, I’m just down the street, I can manage. You guys seem like you need to go somewhere.”

“Well, if you’re just down the street then it’s not a problem.” Rafi’s voice is matter of fact, and with a grin he reaches for your arm. “Alejandro, get the other side.”

“Rafi, no offense, but, uh, let Eddie handle that. You and me together will make her even more lopsided.” Alejandro has a grin, bright at the not-so-subtle dig.

“Eres el peor,” the boy mutters, and with a roll of his eyes, he pulls back, hands lifting in surrender.

Eddie and Alejandro laugh, and so do you, a little chuckle, more for the tone than the actual words. Their banter makes you forget your shitty day, focusing on the group of three as they tussle for a place at your side.

“Where do you live?” Rafi asks, and you point down the street.

“I’m the… fourth building on the right?” you guess, wincing as your foot dragged along the ground. “Fucking, fucking shit, lift it, lift.”

“You’re not exactly helping,” Eddie shoots at you, and your eyes roll, the urge to yank away overruled by common sense.

“I’m trying. Look, you can just leave me alone. It’s not broken, and I’ll make it,” you point out, but all that earns is a scoff from Rafi Barba, an eye roll as he turns to face the three of you as you hobble along.

“Not happening. Look, we’re almost there. Then we’ll leave you be, and you can tell your family how you were rescued by los tres mosqueteros de Jerome Avenue.” His eyes are alight with a kind of mischief, and Alejandro snorts next to him.

“Does it count if one of ‘em is the problem?”

You chat the rest of the way. They bombard each other with questions, and a couple to you, most of which you can’t manage to answer as they tease each other and poke and prod. A couple of times you stumble, but they’re there, keeping you upright, and Rafi makes sure that you don’t fall face first onto concrete. He walks backwards, then forwards, then backwards again, always making sure that you can hear him as he talks about whatever crosses the mind of the three.

It seems like a lifetime, but no longer than a minute or two. You walk, forward, forward, forward, and then you’re up against your building, leaning against it after forcing Eddie and Alejandro to let you go.

“I’ve just gotta buzz my mom,” you tell them. “Trust me, you’re free to go, I can make it.”

“Not likely,” Rafi’s incredulous at the suggestion, but you just roll your eyes. “You can barely stand up straight.”

He’s firmly planted. Eddie and Alejandro look more ready to skedaddle, bouncing on their toes as the cold hits them. Rafi is just staring, and you find yourself meeting his gaze, lifting your chin. “Look, I know you feel obligated, but I don’t make a habit of showing strangers my exact address –“

“And I would contend we’re not strangers. Acquaintances at the very least, maybe even friends. We know each other’s names; we’ve been quite friendly.”  

“Oh, yeah? You know my name?”

The silence is deafening. That wins it. Because Rafi Barba, in all of his urgency, in all of their chatting, never once asked. None of them did. Which doesn’t hurt your feelings. It’s easy to pull away from people you don’t know, and you’d rather just make it up the rickety elevators in peace. Crawl into your bed and die from mortification and exhaustion.

You asked for help. Now the help was over.

“Look, you did your good deed for the day, I made it home,” you counter, “now please, can I get there on my own?”

Just then, the door opens. Your mom comes out, sees your swollen ankle, and that should be their cue.

“Oh, sweetie,” she hummed. “No more dancing for a while, huh?”

“Dancing?” Rafi asks, and he looks between you and your mother with curiosity. 

“Nope, nothing,” you scramble to say. Those moments weren’t for anyone else, just the two of you. “Anyways, thanks so much, but I should really be getting upstairs, and… sleeping. Yes, sleeping. Okay, thanks again, bye!”

You turn to hobble away, hoping your mother will say goodbye and follow you. But instead, she just smiles at the boys and looks at each of them in turn, looking over their uniforms and identical grins, Eddie and Alex lingering back behind the real culprit.

“Thank you so much for bringing my girl home,” she tells them. Her smile is bright, almost incandescent. She has that way about her, your mother, the kind of face that everyone loves, the kind of laugh that everyone is drawn to. You wish you’d inherited that, instead of gangly limbs from a man you barely knew. “She always walks home alone, and it worries me every time.”

“Mom, they were nice and all, but they probably have lives,” you sigh out, and Eddie and Alex seem to agree. They already seem to be creeping away, but Rafi is stubbornly still. “Let them get home, get out of the cold.”

“Oh, all right, all right.” She reaches for you, wraps your arm around her shoulders, and you wince as it scrapes the floor again. “Thank you, boys.”

“We should get home, Barba,” Eddie calls out. “Tus padres estarán esperando, vamanos.”

Something passes across Rafi’s face. It’s quick, and dark, but it’s there, and he nods, his jaw clenching.

“Thank you,” you say again, and it’s a little more heartfelt, genuine. You even smile, a little, an effort to wash that sour look from his face. But you’re turning away, too, when you suddenly hear Rafi Barba call out to you.

“Your name?” he asks. “Just so I know what to yell next time we almost collide.”

“If he’s facing forward,” Eddie mutters to Alejandro, who you can hear snort and shove his toe against the sidewalk.

Your eyes roll, and you look over your shoulder at the boy. He waits, patiently, for the answer, even as Eddie and Alex start moseying down the sidewalk, and his smile is more a smirk, proud of himself when you give it to him, first and last.

He repeats it, gesturing to you and making sure he gets it right. And then he points to himself, his lips quirking again. “Rafael Barba.” He reaches for your hand, and when you hesitate, he raises a brow. Those eyes pierce you. “Not friends. But. Acquaintances?”

“Cute,” you retort, but you’re reaching to shake his hand without thinking about it, gloved hands warm in each other’s grip. “Deal.”

You don’t remember why the day was shitty anymore. Just that your ankle hurts, and you now know that his full name is Rafael.

-

College is complicated. College is sitting and studying in your dorm room and then sitting and studying someplace else. College is hitting your head as you wake up because you have the top bunk. College is crying with frustration over chemistry.

But college is also realizing you really like what the psych professor talks about. College is finally making some real friends, and mellowing out because of it. Your lashing out fades as your anger does, the realization that people can be kind. College is getting a job and not minding that either, because you don’t mind serving others coffee if you get it for free.

So you end up liking Hudson, overall. It’s nice. College, the feel, the people, they’re nice. And you’re close enough to home that you and your mom end up still having a little bit of a dance party every so often. New York isn’t too much of a home, it never will be, but Hudson and your friends and your mom are, and it’s… it’s good, for once.

The holidays approach. Your first real break is coming up, but so are finals, and so your eyes are forcing significant figures back into your brain as you walk to your mom’s place. You had promised her you’d take a break to have dinner, but as your eyes cross with the rules you’re realizing it’s becoming less and less likely that you’ll be able to stop and talk much at all.

Your feet start tangling. You’ve gotten better at walking (only took you nineteen years to really master it), but you’re distracted and frustrated, and it’s not long before you’re tumbling forward, knees scraping the pavement, elbow smacking against the ground. You’re lucky the fall is buffered by your heavy winter gear, but your arm goes numb anyway as you nail your funny bone. Your notes go flying, your knowledge of significant figures scattering across the walkway.

“Fucking shit,” you hiss, holding your arm against your body. It’s not broken, but it hurts like a bitch, and you start crawling over towards where your notes fell to start gathering them up when a pair of gloved hands join your sole functioning one.

“Thank you so much,” you start saying, not really looking up in case the bitter winter wind takes away your notes before you can reach them. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, I just wasn’t watching my feet.”

“It’s really okay. Are you all right?” a voice asks you, and when you look up to see the kind of stranger who would help a poor student out on the street, you’re assaulted by startling green eyes.

Suddenly a memory comes back to you, of a wintry street and an ankle that twinges now in remembrance. You don’t know why you remember, but it’s there, three years past suddenly right in your rearview.

“Are you all right?” he asks you, and you realize you’ve just been staring at him. But a name is struggling to come to the surface, and you blink a few times, still captured by those damn eyes.

“Uh,” you get out. Y’know. Intelligently. He just raises a brow.

“Do you… have these?” he tries, and you realize he’s been holding onto a stack of notes that he collected, holding them out to you.

It hits you, then, and you reach for the notes with such ferocity that he immediately drops his hand when you snag them. You remember.

“Rafael Barba,” you breathe out, blinking a bit.

A beat. “How do you know my name?” the stranger asks. But this guy isn’t exactly a stranger, and of course, he’s now seen you fall to the ground twice in one lifetime. Too many times, if the lifetime is asking you, but it’s not, and it’s still far from over.

You pull back, with your notes, absently trying to get them all right-side up. You’re seeing all of him now, kneeling on the ground, face red with the wind, and it’s definitely him. The slicked back hair, and he’s even wearing a sweater over a button up. Very Catholic school.

But all he knows is that a strange girl has been staring at him, openly, and just blurted his name out of nowhere. You scramble to explain yourself. “Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, just – I – we’ve met,” you stammer out. “Briefly. We’re… acquaintances. I don’t even know how I remember, but you… you might remember my ankle better than me.”

You see him thinking. From furrowed with concern to suspicion. And then recognition, and he’s smirking and shaking his head, glancing around where the two of you are basically sitting on the concrete. He says your name, slowly, like he did that first time too long ago. “I was just thinking about how little things have changed,” he chuckles, and you smirk, shrugging. “Seems like I was right in more ways than one.”

“Well, I don’t think clumsiness goes away,” you admit, “and this time it wasn’t your fault, so you don’t have to walk me to my apartment if you don’t want to.”  

He laughs. It’s short, but bright, and you smile, cutting it with a wince as you slide the backpack on your shoulders. “Might have to, to make sure you stay on both feet.”

“I’m sure I can make it,” you assure him, but when you straighten out the elbow you injured, your face contorts, and he winces in sympathy. “I can walk this time, at least. No getting carried by los – los tres mos –“

“Los tres mosqueteros,” Rafael tells you. His voice is soft, and his eyes are ducking now, watching the sidewalk as the two of you start to stumble to your feet. He doesn’t say it with reverence. Is it… is it bitterness? “Well, solamente un mosquetero aqui, pero… I hope that’s enough.”

Self-deprecating. It makes your nose wrinkle. While college mellowed you out, it only seemed to harden Rafi. “More than,” you tell him. “But… I should be heading home. Don’t want my mom to think I bailed on her.”

“I can take those,” he offers, gesturing to your notes, the book you have. Never mind you have a backpack; he offers and you end up taking it. You don’t really know why at first, but as the two of you walk towards your apartment it starts to come into focus.

He’s grown into his voice, his attitude. He’s not just older, he’s grown, and you find yourself studying him, if only because when he talks it’s hard not to look away. He’s handsome, with those green eyes and firm voice and quick turn of his lips. The lift of his chin, as he listens, gives you a smile. But the smile feels flinty. Even after offering to carry your books, your notes, you realize it’s more out of manners than kindness. But he takes them, and you’re walking side by side for long enough that you gather some courage.

“School out of state, then? If you had to come back, for family,” you ask, to keep the conversation going, knowing that as you reach your door it’s over.

“Harvard,” he tells you, and your eyes widen at the tone. He says it with force, as if he has to keep reminding himself as much as he reminds other people. “I’m planning to go to Harvard law, too, after I take my LSAT this summer.”

“Same,” you shrug. He almost trips over his own feet at that, and when he turns to you with a raised brow you just smirk. “I’m fucking with you, obviously. Hudson. For psychology. Right now. We’ll see.”

You don’t plan on feeling bad about it. It’s what you could get, and you’re proud of it. But there’s something about standing next to a Harvard student that makes you get defensive, ducking your head. He has a little smirk, too, and you find yourself glaring.

“It’s what I could get, and that’s fine, you know. I just want to help people –“

“I know, I know,” he laughs, shaking his head, and there’s nothing mean in it. “Just… fucking with you.” It’s the hesitation that gets you, the little hiccup of years of repression, and you just snort.

“That’s right. Catholic boy. I remember,” The jab comes out without warning, and he just blushes a little. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

His head is shaking again, and when he smirks it’s at you. “Trust me, I think my mother will know even if your lips are sealed.”

“Not worried about God?” you laugh, and he mimes glancing around the whole street.

“Trust me, my mother puts the fear of God into me without any help from the Almighty.”

And then you’re in. The conversation starts flowing more freely. He talks about his family. Talks about coming home, to see his mother, his grandmother. There’s something warm when he talks about the homemade holiday meals, the Christmas mass the group of them will attend. It’s just small talk, but you also know enough not to ask about Eddie and Alejandro, to keep walking with him, keep the topics light. He asks about your family, and you tell him it’s just you and Mom, and perhaps a Christmas dance party around the plastic tree.

“Christmas dance party?” It’s skeptical, but your shrug at him, smiling at the memories of years past.

“Family tradition. I dance, my mom laughs. In the end, we end up usually knocking off some ornaments, maybe upturning a tray of cookies.”

“The whole thing?” Skepticism turns to incredulity, and you snort.

“I have a list of casualties. Three trays of cookies, one pan of brownies, a very nice-looking angel. This isn’t even counting the stuff at New Year’s…“

Rafael’s head is shaking, but you’re just dissolving into giggles as the list expands. All at once, you’re telling him about the time you tripped over an armchair right into a perfectly fine plate of muffins on Christmas morning, and he’s either too polite or too horrified to stop you. But in the end, he laughs. At you, probably, but he’s smiling again, and there’s no putting himself down anymore. Just listening to you take your clumsiness in stride.

Tt’s nice. At least you think so. There are bits of laughter that echo down the street, yours and his, and as your door approaches you find yourself dreading it a little. You missed your friends, and this was… close to something.

“Well,” you say, when the two of you arrive. The door is firmly closed, to keep the cold out, and you reach for the buzzer, turning back to look at Rafael with a smile. He hands over your notes, and you ignore the twinge in your elbow to grip everything firmly. “Thanks. For the company. Not thinking about finals was worth the tumble.”

“I was… also glad for the distraction. It’s been a while since I’ve been home and...” He doesn’t elaborate any further, but his face looks a little pinched, and you nod. Family… friends. It’s complicated.

After a moment, though, he’s looking at you as the two of you hear the door click unlocked. “You’ll get through it, though. Finals. I know it,” he assures. “And then it’s just seven more after that. Trust me, I have three left. It gets better.” He’s watching you, as you rub your arm, and though his brow pinches again, he manages a little smile. “It was good to see you again. Glad I didn’t end up doing permanent damage.”

“Well, I don’t know, future lawyer,” you tease. “Maybe once you get all rich and famous I’ll send something about damages your way. Remind you that I knew you when.”

He huffs out a little scoff, shaking his head. “Future psychologist, right? Don’t you want to practice what you’re going to preach? Forgiveness? Acceptance?”

“Where’s the fun in that? I’d rather humble you, Harvard boy.” When he scoffs again, it’s with a hand raised to you, turning back towards where you know his mother must live, the same direction he walked those years before.

As you move toward the door, pulling it open, you pause, looking back over your shoulder. He’s walking away, hands in his coat’s pockets, elbows shaking a little with the cold.

“Take care of yourself, Rafael,” you call out. “Happy holidays, too!”

Another wave, and he’s gone, and you find yourself thinking about those eyes a little later, distracting you from those significant figures you were so desperate to save.

-

Fuck grad school. Really.

You don’t know what possessed you, when you decided to go. Probably the same thing that possessed you to push to graduate a year early, and the same thing that encouraged you to decide on a doctorate at Fordham instead of a M.S. and moving on.

Masochism. Obviously.

But you’re stuck with it, and every three days you regret it. A new assignment, a long-ass reading, a book you want to throw out of your apartment’s window – it’s too much, and you don’t do enough, and pretty soon you’re drowning. On top of that working, so you and your mom can keep your apartment, buy her medication, and keep the world turning, things that start to feel impossible.

Does everyone feel like this? you want to scream in the world. Does every student after undergrad hate themselves?

You know the answer is yes, but you wish you could hear it from someone besides yourself. Because your mom, bless her, refuses to let you quit, still taking time to dance with you when you need it.

You just don’t want to fail. You can’t fail. So you keep pushing, and find yourself cooped up in libraries, in coffee shops, wherever-the-fuck will take you, doing what you can as long as you can, as much as you can.

There are places you end up frequenting, in the search for a place to get work done, and end up, like most grad students, in a coffee shop. The dim lighting sometimes hurts once you hit your page limit, but the coffee is cheap and strong, and they let you linger in a corner booth with your books all spread out on the table. It’s worth the carpal tunnel, the edges of the tabletop digging into your wrist, because you get shit done.

So it comes as a surprise that your safe haven, your perfect locale, is occupied by Rafael Barba.

At first you don’t even recognize him. When you first notice him, after all, he’s already sitting down, and you can’t see his face. He just looks like another student, after all, bent forward and buried in a book that is even bigger than yours. But when he stands to go get another coffee, and you catch sight of him, it’s immediate.

Of course, he doesn’t see you. Just goes back, sits down with a giant mug, and keeps chugging along.

You keep your smile to yourself, look down at the pages you’ve lost your place in and do your best to get back on track, but now you’re distracted, and Rafael is still just there. It would’ve been less shocking, maybe, if you had perhaps known he’d be in town? But now you’re just thinking about the last time you saw him, the way he laughed, smiled at you before he left…

Oh, fuck it. You just think he’s handsome.

But… it’s been a few years. There’s no way he remembers you, confirmed by the way you stand, to go get another coffee, and he doesn’t even glance up.

So you resolve yourself to doing nothing, acting on nothing. Besides, you have actual work to do, and the third cup of coffee should probably be your last before you’re bouncing off of the walls. But when you turn around, to head back to your seat, you definitely make an impression on Rafael Barba, and the impression is the massive stain on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out, and he can’t say anything, the two of you just staring at the mess. “I’m – I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you – oh, god, your shirt.”

“It’s… okay,” he sighs, and he seems to be in just as much shock. You move to grab some napkins from a table. His voice is dry, when he speaks again. “Isn’t a holiday back in the Bronx without some kind of disaster.”

You wince at the wording, but keep blotting, and then your handful of dirty napkins is useless. You pull back, and you think you’ve actually made it worse, but Rafael is just smirking at you.

“I think… it’s beyond help. But thank you for trying.”

The napkins hang limp from your hands. You feel like an idiot, but Rafael just keeps that smirk as you go to throw them away and turn back. When you do, he’s still standing there.

“I didn’t burn you, did I?” you ask him. “That was a fresh cup, I –“

“Really, it’s fine. A shirt. I’ll survive.”

He looks even better up close. Eyes bright, playful, smart. He seems to look you over with an appraising eye, and you don’t know if you measure up but you hope you do. There’s no hint of remembering, but there’s something, and you glance over at your table.

“Well. I owe you,” you say. “For the shirt, at the very least. How much is your dry cleaning? I have some cash.” 

He scoffs, and you’re thrown back to high school, that same scoff telling you that you can’t possibly stumble home alone. “No, that’s not going to happen. You’re not paying for my dry cleaning.”

“Then something,” you say.

He takes a moment. Looks over you. Eyes narrow as he turns to your table, the papers fluttering in the heater’s breeze.

“Coffee? We both look like we can use a break.” And then he smiles, and you’re swooning.

He ends up sitting at your table, brings his book over to stack on top of one of yours. The two of you get to chatting, just small talk, and about halfway through your coffees it seems to click with him.

“Do I – have we met before?”

You just chuckle, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, yes. This is not the first time I’ve stumbled in front of you.”

His eyes widen. “I couldn’t place you, I thought I was –“

“Crazy? No. It’s just been… years. And each time, somehow, I manage to take a spill.”

“Clumsy, then?” he asks, teasing, and you snort.

“I wish I could say you just catch me at bad times, but. Yeah. I’m a certifiable mess.”

He laughs, and you chuckle, and the two of you keep talking the hour away. By the time you’re done with your coffee you’ve ordered a pastry, too, and for some reason you keep doubting the fact that he’s been looking at you with bright eyes the whole time.

But when the meal is done, you end up packing up your books, getting ready to leave. You say it’s because you should be getting home, but really it’s because you think if you stay there in the booth any longer, you’ll do something crazy, like ask him out. But instead of letting you go, he offers to walk with you, and the two of you leave the shop together.

“So, you stuck around, huh?” he asks, and you can’t help but notice the tone of his voice. “You enjoy the Bronx that much?”

“I figured Hudson U was enough distance between me and my mom. Fordham had the program I wanted, plus, I could stay back and take care of her.”

He huffs a little laugh. Something about it rankles you, but you put it behind you, and the two of you keep walking.

After that, you start to notice other things. Like that fact that he doesn’t stop bringing up Harvard. At first, you deal with it, because yes, it is a big deal. A kid from the Bronx, ending up at Harvard Law? But he won’t, and can’t, shut up about it, and it makes you antsy.

Other ways, too. Talking about Boston like it’s the be-all, end-all. Mentioning how if he came back to work, he’d settle in Manhattan, not back home.

“I want to become a judge, at some point, and Manhattan’s the best way to get there,” he explains, and you nod, but it keeps… bugging you.

“I’m sure,” you concede. “But I don’t know. I like it here. The people, the town.”

When he scoffs, it’s almost cruel, and your heart aches at the way he dismisses it, all with a hand wave. “Yeah, but, Hudson isn’t doing anyone any favors. You should try to head out, spread your wings. Manhattan’s always in need of psychologists.”

Maybe it’s supposed to be nice, some advice. Yet, advice you didn’t ask for, and to you, all it says is that all he can remember about you is the unfortunate undergrad you went to. It infuriates you, makes you halt walking, your bag with all of your books jostling against your back.

“Oh, my god. You truly think you’re doing me a favor just by talking to me, don’t you?” you say, and he just rolls his eyes at you. 

“Of course not, that’s not what I meant.” But it’s the final straw, and no longer does Rafael Barba look handsome. He just looks like an ass.

Part of it is that you’re tired, stressed, overwhelmed. Talking instead of studying. But all you can focus on is his tone, his act. “You think you’re so much better than me. What, because you… you ‘got out of here?’ Out of shitty apartments and neighborhoods, and you can already see the big bucks?” you sigh, and Rafael’s brow only raises at you, looking down his nose at you like that’s how they’re trained at Harvard Law. Maybe they are – an image comes to mind of students preparing to pass the bar by practicing evil smirks and sharp looks.

“Look, I had to fight to get to where I am now, and I’m always fighting to stay there, you understand? I come home to visit, and I’m just saying that you could be wherever you wanted to be,” he tries, but you’re past rational thought. “Come on, don’t you want to get out?” 

“Barba, this is where I want to be,” you tell him, but when he raises his brow, you put your hands up in surrender. In the end, you’re too exhausted to be truly angry at him. You simply shake your head and begin the long trek back to your apartment, the glory of the coffee shop well behind you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, and you just shrug one shoulder as you walk away, turning to look at him over your shoulder. There’s a stinging in your eyes, but you tell yourself it’s just the bite of the wind.

“I’m not going to let you bully me, Rafael. I got enough of that in high school. If you want me to pay for your dry cleaning, or your shoes, I’ll do it, but I won’t let the payment of some spilled coffee be me spending time as your punching bag.”

“Bullying you? So, I’m bullying you now?” It’s incredulous, his question. 

You turn on your heel to face him.

“Harvard isn’t an excuse,” you snap. “Just because you got to go off and do great things doesn’t mean the people who stay here are somehow lesser. Like we’re not accomplishing anything. And right now, you’re really acting like it.”

A beat.

“And it’s Fordham, now, asshole. At least get it right.”  

You don’t wait around to hear his response. You’re walking off, and the only thing you hear is the wind whipping around you.

The ride back is lonely and the scent of coffee has gone rancid. It just feels like another slap in the face, a reminder that no matter how hard you work there will always be something, someone. You’re discouraged, more than a little. When you make it back to the apartment you share with your mother, you’re on the wrong side of miserable, and your reading that you’re already behind on gets more than a little neglected as you choose to watch something on TV, a warm cup of cocoa instead of the coffee you craved.

But it’s halfway through your own pity party that the way Rafael Barba looked at you makes your mouth curl into a sneer, and about two-thirds through the second movie that you realize you’ve wasted the day. Horrifying. All over a man who did nothing but look down at you, for being home, still.

A fire you needed, and looked for, when you started grad school. Besides helping people, why else did you want a doctorate? What was going to push you to getting that damn Ph.D. and across the finish line?

In the end, it’s the feeling of squirming under Rafael Barba’s gaze. Harvard Law or not, the fucker shouldn’t have looked at you like that. Shouldn’t have talked to you like that. And by the time you’re stomping over to your books and opening it with a vengeance, you’ve made a deal with yourself that no one will ever talk to you like that ever again.

Fuck Rafael Barba. He could have his juris whatever, settle in Boston or Manhattan. You were getting a practice, to help the people in your borough, and one of these days he’d have to look at you and refer to you as doctor who got her degree from Fordham whether he wanted to or not.

-

You should’ve gone with the slacks. The slacks don’t have a hem that needs to be tugged down every twenty seconds, that’s for sure, and the feeling of your skirt’s hem is all you can focus on. The way it slides up as you hustle to the elevator, the way it rides as you sit on the subway. By the time you get to where you’re going, you’re going crazy, your hair frizzing with the energy.

Not to mention, it’s fucking cold while you wait, your knee bouncing as you sit in an endless hallway, waiting for them to call your name.  

But you look better in the skirt. You feel better in the skirt, you rock the skirt, and for an oral defense you want to feel your best, so. It’s the skirt. The skirt, and those heels with a splash of color, and when you leave and get a good distance from the clear glass door you get to pump your fist and dance in the skirt.

You did it.

You’re going to be a doctor. You’re going to be a psychologist. Someone’s going to meet you, for the first time, and call you by your title, and come to you for help.

And you’ll be able to help them. On your own. Terrifying, but it gives you a rush, the strength of which makes your head spin, makes your eyes cross just a little. Your fingers move to text your boss, your mother.

“I did it.”

You whisper it to yourself the whole way back. All that’s left is the rest of your internship, and then you’re home free. You’re done. You’re a doctor.

“The worst part is over,” Dr. Olivet reminds you when you make it back to her offices, “but there’s still work to be done.”

“I know, I know,” you tell her, lifting your hands. “I still have to finish my work here, and there’s, you know, getting a job…”

“But you did it.” Her voice is warm, and you’re not afraid to give another little dance, and she obliges you with a hug.

It’s sweet. It’s more than sweet, and your eyes are brimming with tears. God, you have to call your mom. A text isn’t enough, you have to tell her everything –

A hand reaches out to stop you with a gentle touch on your arm. You hadn’t even realized you were talking out loud, but thankfully you’re done in an instant. “You can call her on the drive. We have a full day, then the Brooklyn DA’s office.”

The thought makes you wince. “Two birds with one stone, hopefully?” you ask her, but she just shakes her head, the excitement from the morning bleeding into preemptive exhaustion in the blink of an eye.

Long day is right, when it comes to the law. There’s never been a time when cops have been your biggest fans, but it seems the tensions are always high with them. Nowadays, at least with Olivet, the two of you prefer to go straight to the D.A., when he calls, simply because at least as an expert witness, there’s some respect.

Some. But it’s there.

But not always.

So, the two of you make the journey to Brooklyn, a forty-minute commute from Manhattan, and by the time you show up at the Kings County D.A.’s office, you’re already exhausted. The D.A.s that Olivet consult with are nice enough, you suppose, for lawyers, but only because they have to be. It’s part of the position, and if they want to be re-elected, they don’t want a reputation of being hard to work with. But the A.D.A.s tend to sprint first, ask too many questions later, and every moment is a battle.

But when you get there, head up to the office that Olivet was told to go, there’s a pair of striking green eyes that lift from their spot on a stack of files to meet yours, widening when yours do. They’re matched with a pale lavender tie, and a grey ensemble that compliments him nicely. You suppose it’s made for that, considering how it’s tailored.

The room isn’t posh. The opposite, in fact, a couple of chairs in front of a desk, a table to the side with various books to add onto the bookcase full of them. But there’s flair, and clutter in equal spades. It feels worked in, maybe even lived in, judging by the only other piece of furniture being a couch behind you.

It’s been a long time since high school and wintry streets in the Bronx, that’s for sure, for you and for Rafael Barba.

He stands when the two of you step into the room, and moves around the desk. You watch and wonder what he remembers from the last time you stumbled into each other, but his body language doesn’t betray a whole lot besides his exhaustion. You wonder if he can see the same in you, or if the tapping of your finger against your side is informing him just what you think of him. The great lawyer from Boston, here instead of the Bronx. Never going back home, just like he wanted.

His jacket is off, and you can see the vest and slacks of a three-piece suit as he moves to greet you, sleeves rolled up, a couple of blinks as he takes the two of you in.

“Mr. Barba,” Olivet says politely, reaching out her hand. “You’re the A.D.A. we’re working with, then?”

“Doctor.” His voice is formal, and when he shakes it, there’s a quick one-two before he releases, turning to you without hesitation. “Yes, I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity to meet officially. Rafael Barba, thanks for coming.”

“Mr. Barba,” you greet him, when he turns to you, and when the two of you shake there’s a twitch. “It’s a... pleasure.”

How’re you doing, Harvard boy? Still looking down your nose? is what you want to say, what you remember from him, but you manage a little self-control. You think he reads your mind, and it makes him nod.

“The pleasure’s mine,” he returns. So, he does recognize you, because the familiarity has to the be the unexpected warmth you hear. Or maybe amusement, because your last attempt at friendliness was resolved with little more than chills in the air. “Intern for what exactly?”

There’s a spark in his eyes, and you find yourself lifting your chin. No stumbling at this meeting, just two kids from the Bronx, all grown up. God forbid he thinks for a moment that you ran away and gave up. “For my doctoral courses at Fordham. In about four months, I’ll be a clinical psychologist like Dr. Olivet. She’s who I’ve been training under.”

You dare him to say something. To make a dig. 

“Fascinating.” It’s what he settles on. He seems actually impressed,, when he looks at you, and you try to ignore the way his smile makes your heart pound. It’s just because he’s a handsome man in a three-piece suit and smiling, not because he’s Rafael Barba. After all, Rafael Barba was pretty sure you’d never get out of the Bronx, and downright rude because of it. “Shall we get started, then? I want to know everything I can about this guy.”

“Of course,” Olivet returns, and the three of you get situated to get to work.

It’s long. It’s exhausting. By the end of the day, your head is pounding, and Olivet and Barba have exchanged enough words to fill a novel, trying to argue the benefits and the harm of taking this particular offender to trial. He wants to get an answer to his boss by the end of the day, and your boss is not one to make it easy for ease’s sake. You had taken the role of notator, going through the files offered and marking anything for Elizabeth, and the back and forth had made you dizzy. After all, after everything, Rafael Barba was a great lawyer, a fantastic prosecutor, according to a Google search during a break. Leave it to him to make your eyes blur.

“The precedent is set for it,” Barba repeats, for the third time. He’s gone from sitting, to pacing, to sitting again, his eyes closed as he runs a hand through his hair. “And the defense is going to argue that his illness is an excuse for his behavior.”

“I know what the precedent says,” Olivet returns, for the third time. “But I also know that while diagnoses are never an excuse for a behavior, they can explain one. It’s what the defense will argue. His impulse control without his medication – which he has a right to refuse – is significantly lowered –“

“But not completely. Mr. Nelson understands what he did was wrong, he basically confessed –“

Your eyes roll, and you find yourself speaking before you can think. “In an interrogation room in which his counsel, which he did not waive, was not present. Just because he has a diagnosis in the DSM-V does not make him any less deserving of a proper interrogation.”

The two of them turn to look at you, Olivet with a smile, Barba with a scowl. His face pinches as his eyes scan you, and you just stare back.

He may be where he belongs, in a three-piece suit, but you’re where you need to be, too. And he needs to make sure he understands that, because the last thing you’re gonna let him do is underestimate you again.  

“No one is saying that,” Barba starts, but you just raise a brow at him.

“If I’m looking at these transcripts correctly, something tells me the cops themselves said that. Look, Mr. Barba, Dr. Olivet and I might not be this man’s direct health care providers, but we still have a duty to advocate for him.” You glance over at your boss, and her hand is covering her mouth, but you see the edges of a smile in her tired eyes. “If I were a doctor, and an expert for the other side, I would make sure my team knew the violations that occurred in that room.”

The room is silent. When Barba looks at the doctor, she just drops her hand, the smile replaced with a somewhat-serious look that threatened an I-told-you-so. “I’d be saying the same thing. She’s right.”

A new energy flashes between the two of you, and when Barba contemplates his options, his lips a little pursed, it’s with you staring him down. It’s a sparring match, your gazes, and it’s a firm draw. That alone seems to perturb Rafael enough for him to relent, just a little. “I’ll worry about the… legality of the confession,” he sighs out. His pages flick to a different section, and he glances over it. “We’re all tired here, so I’ll wrap, but I need to know if he’s competent for the stand without his medication. That’ll be the last thing we cover today.”

“If he’s not a danger to himself or others, then getting him to take it will be difficult legally,” Olivet reminded him. “But. I’ll do an evaluation. See what we can determine while he’s off.”  

Another time, another date is set, for the evaluation. You and Dr. Olivet start getting ready to go, and the polite farewells are given and gone.

But before you leave, and the handshakes are made, Rafael looks you over, from head to toe. It’s quick, but you catch it, and it’s before he turns to Dr. Olivet and nods.  

“I’ll be seeing both of you, then? Day after tomorrow?”

If it makes your cheeks flush, you don’t mention it, especially not when he glances back at you again, gives you another handshake with a firm squeeze.

“Both of us,” you affirm, inform, and then you’re gone, Rafael Barba’s office behind you, something else entirely in front.

“You know, he never asked you your name, when we went in,” Olivet notes, on the ride back. It’s mild, nothing really there, but the two of you have worked together long enough that you know there’s a million unasked questions down that rabbit hole.

Your eyes don’t leave the windshield. “Oh, yeah. Uh, we lived on the same street. He – him and his friends, really – they almost broke my ankle, my sophomore year of high school.”

A hum from her makes you break from your trance, and you see the edges of her lips curl up. “No, no,” you clarify. “It wasn’t like that, it was never like that. I’ve only seen him, what, three times over the years? He’s just someone I see every so often. New York is the smallest city in the world, I guess.”

“Will this be a problem?” she asks next. You find your cheeks flaring again, turning from the windshield to your own window.

“Nothing there for it to be. Last time didn’t end so well, but… we’re past that. We’re adults.”

Right?

When she laughs, it’s a gentle prod in the direction you were already going, nothing more than fuel to the fire that you barely understood was being lit.

“Well, I know for sure he didn’t shake my hand twice, and I’m the one who’s going to be on the stand for him if this goes to trial. Maybe last time didn’t end as poorly as you thought.”

You refuse to think about it, though. For a little while. After all, it’s work that has to be done, and you’re not across the finish line, yet, so you show up prompt and on time two days later to assist Dr. Olivet with her evaluation and the conclusions that are inevitably drawn. You don’t end up coming until the end of the workday, and when you’re finished it’s well into evening.

“He’s unaware that what he said in the interrogation room amounted to a confession,” she tells Barba, afterwards. After watching the whole thing, the way that you and Olivet had slowly gained trust and revealed the truth, the clench of his jaw is mighty. “There’s no way he gave it willingly.”

“You’re certain?” When he turns to look, it’s at both of you, equally, his eyes flicking back and forth before looking back into the room where you had left him. His voice sounds exhausted, and for a moment you feel pity for him.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off with a hand wave. “Don’t bother. I know the answer.” His frustration is apparent, and you find yourself sharing a glance with Dr. Olivet before nodding. “So, we have nothing.”

“Nothing except someone who needs to return home to his family,” you tell him, and his shoulders slump. It’s not meant to be a jab, but when he looks at you again there’s something in his eyes that tells you he takes it as such.

“Right. Of course. I’ll talk to the captain.” He sounds so worn, and you almost feel sorry for him.Your smile is sympathetic, but he’s not really looking at you. There’s something that tells you to walk away, another part that insists you stay, figure this man out.

“Mr. Barba?” Dr. Olivet murmurs. “I’ll get a full write-up of what I saw here to you tomorrow, but we really should be going now.”

And that makes him straighten, his manners coming back to him as he gestures towards the door. “Right, yes, of course. Thank you so much for your help, Dr. Olivet. Miss Y/L/N.”

“Not a problem,” you say, and the two of you part. No fanfare. No nothing. Just. Done.

You don’t realize how distracted you are until you’re standing by Dr. Olivet’s car, ready to take the two of you back to her office, where you can return to the Bronx.

“Are you all right?” she asks you, and you realize you’ve been fingering the handle for a minute, as she rummages for her keys.

“Yeah, just. Thinking.”

After another minute, Olivet curses. “I must’ve left them inside. Do you mind if we head back in?” When there’s no protest, the two of you walk quickly to get out of the cold, and you find yourself hoping against hope that Rafael Barba is still in there, that there’s something more you can say.

Your head is down, your eyes are closed to protect from the wind. So you don’t see the door, nor notice when it swings out. Neither does the other person behind it, and you feel the edge of it nail you in the forehead.

You’re stunned, stumbling backwards. Your fingers come up to press on where the door hit you, and the person behind the door is muttering curses. A couple of hands come to steady you, and luckily there’s no blood on your hand when you pull it away.

“Are you all right?” a voice asks you, and you have to blink to let the face focus.

“Just when I thought there’d be no stumbling around this time,” you groan, and Barba’s small smile to you is brimming with concern.

“Completely my fault,” he sighs. “Are you okay?” You’re still blinking, but the dots connect, and you realize that Rafael Barba is the one who smacked your head.

Goddammit. And you just starting to like the guy again.

“I got a door to the face, I’ve been better. Fuck, I’ve gotta be careful what I wish for,” you groan.

“Let’s get you to a chair,” Olivet whispers, and the stars you’ll still seeing start to fade as you stumble to a seat in the entryway of the precinct. “Mr. Barba, do you mind staying here with her? I think I left my keys upstairs, and I need them to take her home.”

“Doc, you don’t have to do that,” you tell her, but the lights in the place are killing your eyes. Quickest concussion you’ve ever gotten, you assume, and Barba indeed tells her that he’s got you. Heels click away, toward the elevator, and even the ding makes you wince.

There’s silence, for a few moments. Quiet, as you hold your head in your hand. After a few moments, you’ve realized Barba’s left and returned, holding out a cold water bottle to you.

“Another thing I owe you for?” you ask him, and you must be imagining his wince as you hold it up to your forehead.

“I think by this point we’ve come full circle,” Rafael tells you. “I’m truly sorry, I just didn’t see you when I pushed the door open.”

A brow raised in disbelief, and you tilt your head up so he can see your scorn. “Aren’t the doors clear?”

“My phone,” he offers, and you scoff.

There’s silence again. His shoes are tapping against the tiled floor, and you switch hands as condensation drips down your arm. It sends a chill through you.

“Do you… need my coat?” he asks, and you can’t help but raise a brow at him again.

“I have my own coat,” you tell him, bluntly, and it almost looks like… wait.

Is he blushing?

“I know, just… do you – do you need another one?”

So. This is the great Harvard graduate Rafael Barba, stumbling over his words, offering you a coat. If anything told you he remembered what happened way back when, and felt bad about it, it was that. You’re chuckling a little now, the anger passing into disbelief.

“How bad does your head hurt?” he asks, horrified, but you just keep laughing, dropping the water bottle and leaning back in your seat.

It’s a full-on cackle right now. “You’re telling me this isn’t hilarious?” you ask him. Gesturing between the two of you, the bottle in your hand, the offer of the extra coat. “Every time we meet, something goes horribly wrong, doesn’t it? We can’t just have a coffee, I have to spill it on you. We can’t just catch up, I have to vow vengeance.”

He raises a brow at that, but you wave him off. “I don’t know. I guess I’m telling you that maybe this is what we’re meant to be, Barba. Bad luck for each other.”

Rafael murmurs something, in Spanish. Repeats it, even, but you can’t catch it.

“What?” you finally ask, and he looks at the water bottle next to you and shakes his head.

“I’m saying that’s not true. You’re not bad luck. You… helped me.”

It’s your turn to raise your brow, and you have a feeling if you knew him a little more, it’d be a perpetual expression. But he keeps plowing forward. “You know, when you walked away, last time? I watched you the whole way down the block. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you… said I was using Harvard as an excuse.”

He leans back. Tilts his chin up, and you find yourself watching the line of him. He seems to sink into the seat like it’s the first time he’s sat for a week.

“Excuse to do what, I didn’t know. So I tried to ignore it, and then… it just kept… sitting in the back of my head, the sight of you, looking at me –“ He cuts himself off, and you watch him sit up again, rest his elbows on his knees.

“What?” You prod him, move your knee to hit his, and he sighs, both hands over his face.

“You were right. Harvard was my excuse. It was a way out, but I forgot home on the way. Forgot my mother, in everything, my grandmother. Took steps away from them, and ended up losing sight of myself.”

All of that because of what you said? Something twists inside of you, and you shake your head, lifting the bottle back up to where a good bruise is forming. “You don’t have to feel guilty for working, Rafael,” you murmur to him. “For having a dream. I saw you, and I – I saw a guy who got it all, and I took my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry, for making you think that going out and accomplishing what you have means you’re not – not, y’know. You. I barely know you, for fuck’s sake.”

The curse makes his lips twitch, but he doesn’t look away. “But you never lost sight of home. You were always right there, where you needed to be,” he urges, and you shake your head.

“And that’s me. I love home. I love being home. But maybe you needed to get out. I don’t know your life,” you laugh. “I would love to, but I don’t and… and maybe you needed to step away from… family, from friends, to find yourself. Look at you, you’re an A.D.A. in Kings County. I know you’ve got headlines already. That’s just who you seem to be. You’re the Harvard boy. Don’t feel guilty about that on my account, it’s a big accomplishment.”

A pause.

“But the Bronx isn’t so bad, if you ever wanted to journey back every so often. Not a bad thing to remind yourself where you came from.”

“I don’t think I can forget,” Rafael admits. “Es en mi sangre, just like being a lawyer is.”

Then he smirks. “Plus, those pants still have a stain right on the hem. I keep meaning to throw them out.”

You snort, loud, and then shift to face him. It’s uncomfortable, the little bench the two of you are on, but the position is worth it. “Seems like you’re investing in good-fitting suits. Might be time.”

Olivet is taking forever, it feels like, but you don’t mind. This has been good, a resolution to things, and you don’t really want it to end. Even if it means that you can get home and nurse your head.

“You know, you’re the one who got me through my first year of my Ph.D.,” you blurt out. “After our last meeting I vowed you’d call me doctor. That’s what I meant… by vow vengeance.”

“So you…”

“Yeah. I guess that means you’re good luck, huh?”

He’s agape. “You pushed through grad school out of spite for me?”

“Yup.” The ‘p’ pops in your mouth, and his eyes flicker down to your mouth before he can stop himself.

And then, there’s a beat. And then he’s laughing. His laugh, when it’s light, and free, is contagious, for sure.  Shaking his head, running a hand through gelled hair. When he pulls it away, the mess makes it look softer, and you get the sudden urge to run fingers through it.

Damn concussions.

You have enough sense not to mention the craving. You just smile, and drop the water bottle in favor of shoving a hand towards him for a good shake.

He looks at your hand. It’s offered to him in a symbol of peace, but he looks so skeptical still, as if you’ll call him out on not calling home every now and again.

“Since I’m not your bad luck, then. Friends?”

There’s no hesitation. He’s grabbing your hand, firm and warm, and the one-two shake seals the deal.

“Friends,” he concedes, and the two of you sit on that damn bench, the silence more than a little comfortable.

His coat does end up around your shoulders, eventually. It’s nice, another layer of warmth with the windows to your back. It seems silly, but it feels like a shield, a layer of protection.

Olivet comes down eventually. She doesn’t comment on the second coat, but you see her head tilt a little as you stand, hand it back to him.

“You know where to find me, if you’re ever in town,” you tell him, and he nods.

“I’ll see you around, Miss Y/L/N.”

Your grin stretches across your face. It hurts your head, a little, but it’s worth it. “You’ll call me doctor, one day. Next time one of us almost kills the other.”

His smile back is warm. “I have no doubt.”

When you and Olivet leave, she’s just humming a little. You don’t say anything, but when the two of you get in her car, she pulls her keys from the depths of her purse, starts the engine. You realized that you didn’t see them in her hand when she left the elevator, and the dots connect even with the way your brain has been rattled.

The sight makes your eyes widen. “Were they –“

She laughs now. “Oh, you know things like that. Not a problem, we’ll just take you home now.”

“Now?” Your voice is cracking a little with the indignation.

“Now. If we hurry, I’m sure your dinner will still be warm.”

-

Rafael watches as Liv’s voice gently soothes the woman, her eyes flicking back and forth between the Lietenant and Carisi. There’s hesitation in her statement, the kind that makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

When the two of them leave the interrogation room, he’s clear, or as clear as he can be. “She just confessed to murder, and right now that’s all the D.A. is going to see.”

Carisi’s response isn’t exactly friendly, but Barba looks up at the detective steadily, trying not to let his eyes roll. “You’re telling me you don’t believe her?”

“I’m saying that we’ve already had two victims recant their statements, for one reason or another. Their unwillingness to testify against Mr. Jones gives us very little in terms of evidence,” he sighs out. There’s a weariness as he looks at the woman, moving to lean against the glass and watch as she lays on the couch to rest. He wants to do the same, sometimes. Let his exhaustion take over. “I want to know what she knows about the situation, what she thinks. Otherwise, it’s a cut and dry case, and she gets locked away.”

“But she came to us, Barba,” Liv offers, looking at him with those pleading eyes of hers. They know how to sink right into his soul, and he ducks his gaze for a moment to collect himself. He has no time for being tired, and there’s something infectious about her conviction. But he needs more than a detective’s gut instinct and a lieutenant’s insistence. “We can’t just let her sink. She doesn’t belong in Rikers, she needs help.”

There’s a long silence, and Rafael finds himself sipping from a cup of coffee that has long gone cold. It’s Carisi that speaks up, those classes at Fordham law behind him. “What about a psychiatric evaluation? If an expert can sign off on her testimony, perhaps back up the fact that she was indeed abused, then as a battered woman…”

“Fordham law strikes again,” Barba quips, and then winces at his next sip. Such a shame the precinct couldn’t afford better coffee. Or more skilled coffee makers. “I can see who the D.A.’s office has lined up for those kinds of calls.” He looks between the two cops. “I don’t usually do the defense’s job for them, but this…”

“Is different.” Liv fills in the blanks, and he offers a small smile to her as he moves to the door. “I think we’re rubbing off on you, Barba.”

“God help us all,” he throws back, and her and Carisi’s chuckles are what leave him as he pulls out his phone.

The calls are straightforward. First to Carmen, who finds the list of names and numbers, and then to those names from his desk, seeing who is available as soon as possible for a psychiatric workup. There are options that she trims down, out of the goodness of her heart, leaving him with about ten that he can choose from.

But when he gets the list of names, there’s one name that stands out. One that reminds him of smiles shared across a cup of coffee and a pastry, one that makes him think of Catholic school uniforms and twisted ankles. One that makes nostalgia swirl in his gut. Or is that longing? Either way, it makes his lips purse.

Maybe it’s because in those moments, there were bright spots. Light in days and years that seemed to blur with a lot of struggle.

Or maybe it’s because he’s being dramatic. Either way.

He picks up his phone, prepared just for a consult. Nothing to yearn for, certainly. But he pretends not to notice when he looks up your office and gets a thrill when it’s in Manhattan, or swallow tightly when a photo appears on your website, and your eyes seem to gaze into his.

You’ve made a name for yourself. Any competent A.D.A. would feel comfortable with you in their corner. His fingers fly across his keyboard, looking into cases, finding what you’ve done. Your doctorate from Fordham is only the beginning, and he’s surprised he hasn’t seen you at charity events with all of the credits next to your name. Three years into practice, and he sees you headlining research into veteran populations, starting funds for LGBTQ+ counseling, lighting a fire in your community.

Any A.D.A. would choose you. Never mind the other names.

Yours ends up being the first number he dials. It rings twice, three times. Nothing yet, and his pen is spinning in his fingers. Four times, five times, and for a moment he thinks he’ll just have to try the number at the top of the list –

“Dr. Y/L/N’s office,” a voice answers. “How can I help you?”

It’s not you. It’s a secretary, or a receptionist, but her voice is kind enough. “Yes, is Dr. Y/L/N in? I’m calling about a consultation for the Manhattan District Attorney’s office.”

The little hum that the receptionist gives is… uncertain. “Unfortunately, she’s in with a patient. Can I take a message?”

He’s done his due diligence. He’s tugged on the heartstring, and now he should move on. Try the next name. But something makes him set down his pen, bite his lower lip. A whim, really, that makes him speak.

“Just tell her Rafael Barba called. And if she’s interested, to return this call. I’ll give you the number.”

When he recites the list of ten digits, however, it’s his cell phone. And there’s something in him that hopes you’ll call back with yours. For old times’ sake.

“All right. Thank you so much, I’ll be sure she gets it.” The receptionist hangs up, and Rafael feels like he’s run a marathon the way his heart is pounding.

Each call he gets the rest of the day is enough to get him tensing. Ready to lift and see an unfamiliar number, with your voice in his ear. What he gets instead is silence, and a couple of calls from Liv, during which he does his damnedest to keep the tension out of his voice. By the end of the day, he’s resigned to the fact that it’s simply a missed connection, two ships passing in the night. Another moment of dramatics, but he feels this one.

And then his cell rings once more. He doesn’t look at the screen, just answers and closes his eyes, ready to hear Liv’s voice again, or God forbid, Carisi.

“This is Barba,” he answers. That tension bleeding in once again, and the response he gets makes him a little breathless.

“Kings County not enough for you, Harvard boy?” you ask. It’s teasing, light, and it feels a little like he’s outside in the cold winter wind chill the way his nose surely must be red. “Now I know to send the damages lawsuit to Manhattan.”

His laugh comes out of him suddenly, and it matches yours. “I’ll give you the address. How are you, Doctor?”

You hum a little, and it buzzes against his ear. “Oh, it feels good to hear you say that, that’s for sure. But, honestly, I’m doing pretty well. I’m… doing what I love. Helping people.”

“Too good for the Bronx? Manhattan your mainstay?”

“Oh, please,” you huff. “My office is firmly in the old neighborhood. And on top of it, if I don’t come by every week, my mother has a conniption.”

“Glad to hear.”

And it’s just that simple for you. Rafael has always had his sights set on the future, but you’ve reached it. And you’re content, and still with one foot in the place the two of you grew up. It’s… right.

“What about you?” It’s a question he’s honestly unprepared to answer. He doesn’t linger on it too long, because he doesn’t want to sound like he’s lying, but the truth is perhaps too much to admit to an acquaintance.

No. A friend.

“Manhattan is a little like home now. A lot like it,” he admits. In that moment the SVU crew comes to mind, but he pushes them away. But I have a case here I’m ready to be done with. I’m trusting your receptionist gave you the gist?”

“What she could.” Your voice is no longer light, something firm in it that he recognizes. The tone of work. “The message wasn’t a lot besides your name and your title, but am I right in thinking I’m going to be evaluating someone?”

“It’s a woman who was a victim of sexual abuse. I need to know what your read is on her.”

You hum again, lower, contemplating. “Anything in particular I’m looking for?”

“I don’t want to influence you, or give any unnecessary details over the phone. Just know she’s in our custody, right now, and this case has been complicated.”

There’s a pause, and he does his best to emphasize what’s necessary, what’s true. “We’re trying to help her. Get her where she needs to be. I know it’s last minute –”

“I know the system, Rafael,” you murmur. You don’t hesitate to use his first name, and he tries not to think too much about how it sounds in your mouth. “Am I right in assuming that she’s potentially spending the night in the tombs?”

She’s not, but he doesn’t get the chance to respond, and he doesn’t have to. You’re telling him you’ll be there tomorrow, prompt, early, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Doesn’t mention that waiting for your call could’ve cost a valuable day’s worth of time.

“Thank you,” he breathes, “I owe you.”

“For doing my job?” you chuckle. “This isn’t a personal favor, we should make that clear.”

“For taking my call. Getting back to me so quickly.” For humbling me when I needed it. For being a reminder every few years that home isn’t a bad thing.

“Anything for a friend,” you return, and he ducks his head to hide his smile from the room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. And I do insist I owe you. For the nearly broken ankle, at least.”

There’s a pause. He can hear your breath catch, and he hopes, hell, he prays that there’s a smile on your face as you think of him.

“Then, let’s not wait three years to meet again,” you tell him. There’s a click, surely a pen in your fingers, perhaps spinning like his. “I’ll take drinks, once the case is done.”

“How about dinner?” Rafael returns, and he stands to his feet, his window gazing out on the street below. He’s glad he’s not limited by the cord of his desk’s line. The cabs breezing by too quick on roads with black ice, the gusts blowing the flags outside One Hogan Place. “More equivalent, I would say, if we consider twelve years’ interest.”

“I’m also counting the spilled coffee, of course,” you add, and Rafael scoffs.

“Didn’t you spill that on me?”

He walks into it, he supposes, but he doesn’t mind. “Well, then, I’ll return the favor. Two-dinner commitment, and all before we hit fifteen years of acquaintanceship.”

“Friendship,” he amends, and your little laugh is what lingers with him, what he thinks about as he prepares for tomorrow.

“Right. Friendship. Good night, Rafael.”

“Good night.”

The two of you say friendship, as you rise the next morning. Say friendship as you meet, and Rafael introduces you to the precinct. Say friendship, as the case ends, and those dinners begin, with laughter and warmth even in a snowy Manhattan evening.

But at the end of those dinners, twelve years in the making, the friendship is only the beginning.

After all, you look stunning, in your dress and heels, a deep red coat that compliments your lip color. Your hair is pinned up, but some of it has come loose, during the night, and those strands frame your face perfectly.

“Maybe Manhattan isn’t too bad,” you laugh, as the two of you step into the night air, “if it means you get to eat like that all the time.”

“There are definitely some low points, but the high points make it all worth it,” he tells you. He can’t stop looking at you, even as you pause at the curb, side by side and turning to each other. “Back home, then?”

“You’re not the only A.D.A. I work with.” You nudge him with your elbow, hands in your pockets to block out the cold. “Other boroughs, other work. Not to mention that Monday’s coming up quick. Patients.”

There’s a stab of jealously in him. Thinking about you spending time with the other boroughs, with other A.D.A.s at his office. But for some reason, he can’t help but hope that the smile on your face is just for him.

He takes a moment to pull out his phone, stare at the date on the screen. “Well, tomorrow’s not Monday,” he tells you. “Do you… think you could spare a few more hours? Another day, maybe?”

Your brow raises at him, and he finds himself loving the arch of it, especially paired with your smirk. “What are you thinking, Barba?”

“A couple of drinks, maybe.” He nods down the road, trying to play it cool even though his heart is pounding in his chest.  

You’ve gotten the gist. The idea. He knows it, and you know it, but you’re daring him to act with the way you bite your lower lip. “And after that?”

It’s a dare he takes. Jumps at the chance to act on, one of his hand lifting to cup your cheek, the other reaching for your waist. He kisses you, there, on the curb, winter in full swing around you, and there’s nothing else can think about but the way you feel against him.

When it’s over, it feels unfinished. Mainly because a part of him doesn’t want it to.

“What do you say? Willing to stay in Manhattan a little longer?” he asks, a little breathless as he looks down at you. Your lipstick hasn’t miraculously hasn’t smudged, but he still lifts a hand to trace his thumb along the perfect lower line. “I know a place you can stay.”  

“I’m almost convinced,” you reply with a laugh, voice light. “But if you kiss me again, we can make that an absolutely certainty.”

#rafael barba x reader #female!reader #rafael barba #law and order: svu #olivia benson #sonny carisi #my fic #friends to enemies to lovers i suppose