#id glance over and be like “oh yeah i have to do that huh”

[buwheal]

No asks today but as an apology here's the spam I doodled on my to-do list. Goodnight.

#Actually helped me drink more water believe it or not #id glance over and be like “oh yeah i have to do that huh” #maybe i should just start doing that to remember things lmao #He's pointing at my tasks but youre not gonna get to see those. nuh-uh. :fingerwag: /j #so fucking lame i didnt get to work on the asks today... i was planning it out too i was so excited... wtf.... 😭😭 #hes so shaped i love him #goodnight ACTUALLY for real now #spamton

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

#stampedwithanE★ #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fic #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader

[biscuitblinkeu]

Kiss and Make-up [8]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2940

…………………………………………………………………………

You’re in a club, drinking alone. This was a different place than the one you went to with the girls. You heard about it courtesy of your bartender friend you exchanged numbers with before. It wasn’t as big as the hotel one, but still filled with people. You could hear the music, feel the bass reverberating in your bones. Your hand fidgets in your lap while you sip on your drink, watching the way people danced, jumping and laughing.

It was an impulse decision of yours, coming here. It was a Monday night and you needed to blow off some steam, get your mind off things. Get your mind off a certain blonde. The alcohol helped with this. Helped a little — because as much as you were trying to forget about Rosé, every time you closed your eyes you saw her; reminded of what she said. Daggers to the heart.

“Did the drink insult you or something?” A sudden silvery voice makes you jump out of your skin, a chuckle following after.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you turn to the culprit, who has taken the seat next to you. “I’m Irene.” Well, this Irene woman was beautiful. She has refined and soft features— like a work of art with a lot of detail.

“It’s okay,” you reassure with a laugh, shaking your head, “(Y/n).” You offer your hand to shake hers. She accepts easily, warmly smiling and giving your hand a soft squeeze.

Oh?

Her smile sends warmth through your body and you lower your gaze shyly. “You were glaring at your drink, what’s on your mind? If you don’t mind me asking.” Irene asks softly, leaning over to you slightly, resting her chin in her hand.

“Was I?” You muse, turning to her fully. You contemplate if you should tell her, and she picks up on this. “I’m just a stranger you met in a bar, so you don’t have to tell me. Just try talking to someone about it sometime. You’re too pretty to be thinking that hard.”

“You sound like a therapist.” You tease, making her scoff playfully, her lips pull into a smile.

“I would be a terrible therapist, I’d want to know all the details and it wouldn’t even be a therapy session anymore. More like gossip between friends.”

You giggle at her words, “You’ve already thought about it, huh?”

Irene shrugs nonchalantly, “Well yeah, I’m nosy.” She smiles cheekily at you. “But seriously, it's not good to bottle up things.”

You hum, finishing off your drink— your liquid courage. “Okay, I won’t. Let’s dance?”

…

You and Irene had returned to the bar after spending an hour dancing together on the dance floor when you felt your phone vibrating against your thigh.You curse quietly, answering it without glancing at the caller ID. A familiar voice comes through the speaker, “(Y/n)?”

“Jennie?”

“Yeah it’s me, you’re somewhere safe right? Weird question but it’s hard to hear you because of the background music.”

“Yes I am, just…”

“Don’t, I have an idea what you’re doing,” Jennie laughs, then nervously she gets out, “so, Rosie…she—”

“I really don’t wanna hear about her right now, Jennie. I’m sorry.”

Jennie looks at Lisa who sits across from her for some help, her wife just shrugs. They all got word of you and Rosé’s situation when they met up in her office. She was acting off so they forced it out of her. Made her realize things.

“Alright, for what it’s worth, Rosie can be an idiot sometimes— but enough of that, I hope you have fun tonight, don’t get in strangers' cars!” Jennie whispers her next words, like she’s telling you something top secret. “And, for the sake of our ship, kiss and makeup for me. Okay bye!”

“Of course, and thank you?”

Kiss and makeup?

You go back to chatting with Irene after you hang up. You can’t help but wonder what Jennie was trying to tell you though.

Twenty minutes later, she gets out of her car, decked in Saint Laurent; a wool blend jacket, silk shirt that’s unbuttoned and tucked into high waist leather shorts, and over-the-knee ivory leather boots. She advances to the entrance and walks in.

She’ll have to thank Jisoo and Jennie; the only ones you follow on social media who have access to your location. They make everyone share their location with them in case of emergencies. It’s no surprise you’d ignore her calls after what she said. So when she tortured the info out of Jennie, she had to see you.

It doesn’t take her long to find you, smiling and laughing with a dark-haired woman. It was like that moment in movies, like the people in the room were positioned in a way she could only see you.

Rosé was on a mission. She wanted you away from that woman. She wanted you away from this club & bar, where anyone wouldn’t hesitate to take a chance on you, as proved by the woman next to you. She wanted that woman to see that you were hers and nobody else’s, to realize you’re taken by her. And if not now, soon.

Rosé strides across the floor to the two of you, the sound of her boots attracting your attention just as she makes it there. The look on your face is pure confusion and hurt when you meet her eyes. Something Irene picks up on. “Rosé? What…what are you doing here?”

“It’s not important. But I have to talk to you about earlier.”

Rosé watches the way your eyebrows knit together and your lips pull into a frown, fury returning in your eyes and she feels her nerves starting to grow. She’d let you yell at her as long as you want, as long as the outcome is you letting her plead her case.

The woman you were talking to places a hand on your knee and you scoot a little closer to her, attention turning back to the woman— Look at me, she thinks— and opting to ignore Rosé. She doesn’t like this, and she has a feeling you know it too.

“Who’s this?” Rosé asks casually, moving to your side. The jealousy on her face is poorly masked but she stays civil. (For now.)

Irene was about to answer for you when you spoke up first. “None of your business.” You quip and Rosé narrows her eyes in suspicion. Narrows her eyes at the hands snaked around your waist. Her fingers drum against the countertop and she purses her lips, not quite knowing how to defuse the bomb that is you. The expression on your face makes it clear you don’t want to talk to her. Understandable.

“I know you’re upset, but can we please just talk it out?” She pleads.

“There’s nothing to talk about right now.”

“Yes there is. I need to apologize, I shouldn’t have said what I said. I need you to know none of it was true-”

“Then why did you say it?”

Rosé begins to respond, and you shake your head. “Actually, don’t explain.” You didn’t want to find out it was an ego or pride thing of hers. That would hurt more. “Please just leave me alone, why don’t you find someone nice to talk with?”

Someone that’s not you. Surely she gets that you need some time?

“(Y/n), I can’t do that. I want to talk with you. I was so wrong and—” She’s cut off by a hand being placed on her chest, firmly pushing hers back a couple steps. Irene stands in front of you, a little to the side. She’s been watching the whole argument unfold.

Rosé is in shock, it’s written all over her face. But she’s also about to explode. It’s building up, the rage, the regret, the mess of her feelings and this situation, and she thinks she might just—

“Why don’t you back off? She’s been telling you to leave her alone.” The short woman speaks up, and she’s met with Rosé’s glare. Irene holds her ground.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rosé almost sneers. She stands tall, stepping closer to the woman with no shame in the slightest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

“Rosé!” You hiss, ripping her attention away from the woman. You were sparing Irene from the words that would come out her mouth. “You need to go cool off, away from me.”

“But…” She begins, only to be met with your glare and she retreats without another word, giving you her signature curt nod before disappearing in the sea of bodies. Rosé takes a seat at one of the tables across the room, you're still in sight though.

She was determined to apologize to you. To make things right.

Despite the lingering looks she’s getting, no one dares to approach her with the sour look on her face. And if they did, she’d tell them to get lost.

But apparently someone didn’t get the memo. A body blocks her vision.

“Hi, my name is…” Rosé didn’t care, “I find you extremely attractive and couldn’t help coming over here and…”

Get lost. All it takes is one look.

The woman trails off, her voice getting smaller until she excuses herself. When she gets rid of her you’re gone, you and that woman. Frantically, she looks around and is eventually able to spot the two of you heading out the building. She practically sprints to you, standing in front of the two of you.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” If a kicked puppy could talk, this would be the example. Worry and jealousy were evident in her tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Clearly, I’m going home with her.” The confidence in your voice makes Rosé think you’re out to get on her nerves. If you are, it’s working.

“Don’t, please. Let me take you home.” Her eyes dropped to your hand, intertwined with the other woman’s unrelentingly. She narrows her eyes at them.

“Rosé—”

You’re immediately cut off by her soft lips being pushed against your own. You feel a hand slither around your waist, pulling you closer to her and away from Irene. As she continues to kiss you, her hand slides down your arm and rips Irene’s hand out of your grasp, replacing it with her’s.

You don’t know why you kissed back, why you responded back just as eager despite how she hurt you— yet that didn’t stop your heart from beating out your chest. Irene fled the scene, feeling out of place. But you did catch her smirk and give you a thumbs up. Then you thought about how she reminded you of Jennie.

Kiss and makeup..

You didn’t know anything, didn’t really have control until you were at the parking lot of the building where her high rise apartment was.

“Don’t move.” You heard. You sat there confused but complied. Rosé hopped out the car and jogged to your side, opening the door for you. You shook your head in disbelief, amusement, and let her take your hand.

…

“Uhm…you can use my shower, I’ll get you something from my closet, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine…”

She gave you a clean towel and wash rag, and when you turned the fancy looking shower on you came back out to ask Rosé if you could use her toiletries but she was already gone.

So you just helped yourself. She won’t mind.

When you're out, an oversized hoodie and some black sweats are laid out for you along with some (new and clean) undergarments. The sweats pool at your ankles and the hoodie sleeves are slightly longer than your arm span. The clothes smell like her, and like a weirdo, you find yourself smelling them.

You fold your previous clothes up and put them in the hamper she has in the bathroom before grabbing your towels and walking out. Freezing upon Rosé crouched on the ground interacting with a dog. You wondered why the dog wasn’t here before and if it was her’s.

“Hankie,” she cooed, in the high-pitched voice people use only to talk to animals or babies. She scratches him behind the ear. “Good boy.” She grabs a dog brush and brushes his shiny fur. Rosé looked up to meet the dog’s eyes but found him looking behind her.

Confused, Rosé looked back and found her answer. You were fresh out of the shower, a towel folded over your arms as you leaned against the wall with an indescribable look. Rosé sat up, holding Hank in her arms before addressing you. “Why do you look like I’ve grown another head?”

“It’s nothing, just weird seeing you so domestic…I mean, soft. It’s adorable, I didn’t think you were a pet person.”

“Really? Well, you're going to learn a lot of things about me.” Rosé studies you with a soft look, making you fidget and pull at your(her) hoodie sleeves. You weren’t used to this side of her.

Rosé smiled, “I love you in my clothes, but I’d also love if you’d follow me to the kitchen. I’m going to make us chicken stir fry.”

Your neck heats up and a grin threatens to appear on your face. Rosé and you go into the kitchen and she pulls ingredients out of her fridge. She doesn’t mind it when you hop on the counter to watch her cook, your legs dangling and swinging. She doesn’t know it’s so you could stare at her side profile more.

“When did you get a dog?” You ask, staring at the brown and white dog in his dog bed. Occasionally he’ll run over to you and you’ll hop off the counter to pet him.

“I’ve had Hank for two years and I found him when I clicked on an adoption advocate where a nice lady was posting about dogs that need to be adopted, and then I saw hank. Hank was abandoned by his previous owner and he had severe conditions… When I brought him home he was scared and jumpy, but he’s got used to me now. I just fell in love with him and he’s so adorable.” She finished as she smiled at the dog who sat by your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Rosé. He’s lucky to have met you.” You lean forward, resting your head on your forearms as you watch her work. A comfortable silence lulls in the air, you content just watching her focus on not burning things.

She deserves a second chance…

You’re immediately cut off by her soft lips being pushed against your own and you feel a hand slither around your waist, pulling you closer to her and away from Irene. As she continues to kiss you, her hand slides down your arm and she rips Irene’s hand out of your grasp, replacing it with her’s.

Her hand was warm, her lips even warmer— but then she pulled away, looking you in the eyes. You could feel the nerves radiating off her.

So, breathlessly, she pleads once more. “Please, and I know it’s cliche, but hear me out. I’m not asking you to forgive me because what I said was terrible, but—”

“Okay. Okay…fine.” You agree, finally. Rosé squeezes your hand before leading you out of that noisy bar & club.

Now in her Mercedes, Rosé fidgets around thinking of how to start her apology. She knows starting off with “I’m sorry” is not gonna cut it.

“I was scared.” She begins before pausing. You go to ask her “of what” but she starts talking again. “I was scared that if we started a relationship I would fuck everything up— which I already have in a way— but I was scared of causing you problems, pain, I was trying to protect your heart,” she sighs, “It’s just, most of my life I’ve been told I’m hard to love and it kind of just stuck to me like a bad omen. And I want you to know I said all those things so you would keep your distance.”

You’re stuck, appalled; you don’t know how to respond other than a stuttered “Oh” and a nod. It seems to be enough for Rosé though. “I want you to know it wasn’t a mistake, and it meant so much to me. I’ll do anything I can to make up for it if you’ll let me. I’m sorry.”

She definitely has a way with her words.

And the way she looked at you when she finished? — like heaven on earth.

You might as well be six feet under.

How are you not supposed to fall for her? And right now, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the vibrant buzz of energy from the city, everything her, you can't help but look at her lips that she bites in concentration.

You were biting those just a few days ago yourself.

You know what she tastes like. And you really, really want strawberries right now. Her lips are so soft, so plump, and the way she kissed you? You think you might be ruined for anyone else.

Kiss me again, you think.

Rosé’s brows pull together and she stops chopping the vegetables. "(Y/n), I think you might still have some alcohol in your system."

"What?" You’re on the verge of getting mad because you know you're sober.

"You just said… I might not be hearing right.” She shook her head, dismissing it.

"What did I say?" You pry, curious yourself. Rosé glances at you, heat blooming on her cheeks.

“You said…kiss me again.”

A/n: KISS AND MAKEUPPP KISS KISS AND MAKEUP 💃🏾

Would you like to continue?

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink #fanfic #fem reader #blackpink x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #rosé x fem!reader #rosé x reader #Unlawful.Biscuit

[spookyson]

Ummm literally just made an account and have no idea how this works. Then found this wip in my docs. I have no idea where I was going with it but it will now see the light of day. Omg I didn't even proofread it pls ignore my typos.

Tim woke up in a bed that was not his own.

Not unusual. He sometimes slept in his parents’ bedroom. It smelt like them and would sometimes feel like being with them. But this wasn’t any bedroom that Tim knew.

It was bigger than his room, with navy walls and dark curtains that covered a window larger than the one he was used to. It was also empty, with a few necessities furnishing the sparseness. Tim’s bedroom had never known emptiness after Mrs Mac had given up on it when Tim was 9. 

There were some clothes on the ground. Which was something. He sat up, pucshing off teh soft blanket that gathered at his waits. His bare feet hit the carpeted floor as he continued his research. The clothes on the ground were too big for him. A collared white shirt and charcoal slacks. He found a tie of matching colour under his bed. It reminded him of Dad, this was the sort of thing he wore when he went to the office. 

He looked to the closet and found nothing else. More shirts and ties in different shades, a pair of dress shoes, and a plain yellow hoodie. He didn’t know these clothes. Tim glanced down at his current outfit, a loose black shirt with Superman’s symbol on it and a pair of sweatpants he’d folded three times at the hip for them to stay on. The shirt was something he would wear, so maybe…

Batman had protocols for time travel. Nothing that he had ever explicitly told Tim since he was way too busy devising ways to make Tim quit, but files that Tim had read over when he had a minute to spare, The rules were fairly simple, should he go back in time, he was not allowed to inform anyone he knew of the future nor could he change anything. Things were a bit loose on how to proceed if he traveled to the future, but not to ask any questions and seek the quickest way back home was the best summary of the lengthy text. 

And, it looked like he was at Wayne Manor. So Batman must be around. He would know how to fix this. And, would Tim be able to meet himself? The adult version?

He fights the urge to grin as he tugs open the bedroom door and makes his way to the cave on silent feet. Batman find it unprofessional. Tim’s never actually been in the family wing before, so he goes into the wrong room. It’s an office, but not Bruce’s. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, a whiteboard tacked to one large wall and an old couch near the doorway. Tim wanders inside. He’s never seen it before. There’s an open laptop on the table, so Tim goes there first. It’s likely locked, and he’s not surprised when he finds a neutral blue screen asking the pincode, what’s actually surprising is the person ID. Tim Drake. This is his laptop. 

He doesn’t know why but the first number that comes to him is the day he learnt how to ride a bike. It was nothing super amazing. Some of the other kids in class could do it with no hands, or do wheelies. But Tim was proud. He had figured it out on his own, his father didn’t need to teach him. It baceme the most important date to him for a while.

He taps in the numbers with hesitant fingers and presses the enter key. It’s accepted.

The laptop opens on a video.

“Shit,” says a much older Tim. “You must be 14. Oh god.” 

So there's been some manner rouge attack and the outcome of said rounge attack is that Tim's been deaged to 14. Tim is also Red Robin. Tim also doesn't have a spleen. There may also be ninjas attacking him at random in order to seduce him to their evil immortal overlord's side and likely into his bed. He's also the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

"Yeah, I get that it's a lot. But uh, we've always had to deal with a lot, huh? This is a little different from usual, but eh semantics. So, if you're ever confused about anything, find the phone under your pillow and call a person named Pru, she can help you out with any Leaugue of Assassins business and call Kon if it's about anything else."

Big Tim smiles and it's shocking how similar he looks to Tim. He's not s chubby, he's got sharper eyes and cheekbones and his hair is longer than anything Tim would dare to try, but his smile is the same. It's a little joking, a little happy, and just like the thing Tim had seen on the surface of the Batmobile when Batman told him he did a good job at patrol. 

"But you're me, so you got this," says Big Tim. He suddenly looks up over the camera and his expression fades into something neutral. Two seconds pass, Tim hears a door close. "Also, you should get out of the manor as quick as you can. That place wasn't safe for me and it isn't safe for you now. Jason Todd is alive and he hates us. Avoid the Robin in a katana, he's got it out for us too. Bruce can't keep us safe" - Tim notes a miniscule shift in the muscles of Big Tim's jaw - "or won't, if it's possible, he's even harder to read now. Dick is…"  Tim watches as his face falls and something that looks alarmingly like a tear wells up in his eyes. "Dick is… We're not the most important thing to him. Don't count on him to have your back, it's better if you ditch before he sees you."

There's a lot to think about. And before he has the time to give any idea in those last few sentences any serious thought. The Tim on screen is already moving on. 

"Address, phone, laptop and everything else should be in the hidden compartment above your bed. Feel around for the switch. Get to the apartment and send an email to Tam Fox, use the words 'I am unwell and cannot make it to the office. Please postpone my meetings and cancel the order' she'll know what that means. That should be everything. Good luck, kid. " 

The screen cuts to black and Tim's up and moving before he can stew on the contents of the video for too long. It was a selfish thought anyway, that Bruce and Dick and Alfred woul ever love him. He's the replacement for a dead boy, it would have been impossible to live up to him, Tim doesn't know why he tried. And oh god, Jason Todd hates him. The back of his throat burns and he gulps down a swallow, unwilling to let the sounds of his sob infect the silent manor. His hero hates him. The boy he loved the most in the world hates him. 

Dick Grayson was an ideal. Something perfect and untouchable, he wasn't actually. Nobody was perfect, But the first Robin and now Nightwing had always given off the aura of untouchable idealility. He was the example to follow, the person everyone strove to be or wanted to be near. In his brief stint as Robin, Tim noticed how he drove people towards them. Bruce didn’t know it, but he was lighter when Dick was around, and Barabara was more likely to join patrols. The older Titans gravitated around him, like planets in his orbit, a product of long-term trust and friendship, but even strangers seemed to know that Dick was all that is good. 

Of course, Tim knew that he could never replace Jason as his brother, but in the deepest part of his heart, he had always hoped to become family adjacent. That one day Dick would look at him with the same softness he only reserved for Bruce and Alfred. To know that he could not even trust him… Well, that hurt more than he thought possible.

Through some miracle of God, Tim didn’t cry and managed to find the hidden compartment above his bed. In a square hole the size of a small cabinet he found a slim laptop, a phone, and a thick stack of money bound together by a rubber band. There were no clothes he could switch into, but this Gotham was likely similar to his Gotham, no one would bat an eye at a boy wearing oversized clothes. He found some sneakers in the closet, too big, but he fit them over his feet anyway and snuck out of his room for the second time. 

Silence reigned supreme in the manor, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Tim’s house. Big Tim said his house was destroyed in the aftermath of an earthquake that changed a lot of Gotham’s cityscape. The address he found on the phone in his hand was somewhere in the middle of the city, so the second thing he did was call for an Uber in the most silent voice possible. The person on the phone informed him of a twenty-minute wait, which would be plenty of time for Tim to escape Batman’s house and wait outside Drake manor.

The phone was shoved into pockets of his sweatpants, while the money and the laptop rested in a bag he had discovered, and after much exploration, he found what looked to be a family room. 

Tim cursed. This may take longer than his estimated time. He set off down another promising hallway, only to stutter to a stop when he heard voices.

“So? ‘S he alright? Baby bird took a pretty bad hit,” says a voice. It’s rough, like the voice of a smoker, and possesses a thick Crime Alley accent. Male. 

Tim feels his heart stop when he hears the first man’s companion respond. “Alred says he’s healthy, so we moved him up to his room. Timmy should be waking up soon.”

It’s Dick. No no no- He’s supposed to be avoiding Dick. That’s what Big Tim said to do. He shouldn’t be here. He should be moving. 

It’s all for naught because that’s when the men turn the corner and run right into Tim. He runs a quick glance over them. Tall, muscular, and big. One’s bigger than the other and has a white streak through his hair. The other is… it’s Dick. Older, with more lines near his eyes and mouth, but the same person he saw at patrol earlier (or later, depending on who you asked) that day. 

The person who didn’t love him. Who didn’t even like him maybe? 

Tim can’t help it. When their eyes widen and older Dick takes a step toward him, he bursts into tears.   

#batfam #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #age regression

[snailsdraw]

[Start ID: Continuing from Part 10, 4 more pages of HLVRAI doodles following the Neo Science Team as they are preparing to head into the Xen Portal. Trigger Warning for death and animal death mention.

Tommy looks sad: "It might be time to...to let go, Darnold. Between right here and in there...maybe...she'll be safer...here..." Darnold's eyes widen in realisation of what Tommy is asking him to do, and he looks down at Sasha, the Gubb climbing her way up clumsily to rest on his shoulder where she begins to chatter contentedly. She had gotten quite comfortable in his presence over the time they'd spent together. Darnold turns away, teeth gritted and sorrowful eyes hidden behind the light reflected in his lab goggle. Benrey, who's leaning on the opposite wall with arms folded, glances momentarily at Darnold with an unreadable expression before looking down.

Gordon's concerned: "You good there, Darnold? You, uh-" "I- I need a minute," Darnold stammers, cutting him off. "I'll be right back..." He starts down the hall back the way they came, and the Science Team looks on sadly. "You think he's gonna be alright walking off by himself like that?" Gordon asks Tommy. Behind them, Dr Coomer places a hand over his heart and the other on Bubby's shoulder and solemnly says: "Oh, I miss him every day."

Gordon turns around immediately: "No...no," he sighs, "Dr Coomer, he's not dead. Just because someone walks out of your line of vision doesn't mean they die. Object permanence, man." Dr Coomer simply keeps his overly woeful expression. Even Bubby looks at Coomer in mild confusion. "Mr Freeman?" a voice calls from next to Gordon. "Mr- Mr Freeman?" Gordon turns around to address Tommy, tiredly: "Huh, wuh, yeah? Yes?" Tommy averts his eyes, very carefully piecing his next words together: "...Mr Freeman, Darnold...he has a very hard decision to make, Mr Freeman. A-and sometimes...that means being- needing to be alone...like making the decision to..."

Tommy pauses, thinking, then resumes: "...to put it lightly, the decision to say goodbye to a pet." Gordon stares at him, struck speechless for a moment. "Tommy, that might be your darkest analogy yet. What is UP with you guys and having death on the brain?" "Oh, I'm okay now," Darnold says as he walks past, startling Gordon who hadn't noticed his return. Darnold's expression is hidden. "We may proceed," Darnold says, pressing ahead. Gordon sputters: "Oh, uh, yeah! Okay!" "Welcome back, Dr Darnold!" Dr Coomer says jovially. The team begin their walk to the Xen Portal. /End ID.]

Previous story parts found here: [Part 1.][Part 2.][Part 3.][Part 4.][Part 5.][Part 6.][Part 7.][Part 8.][Part 9.][Part 10.]

(BTW Sasha's fine, don't worry. The Science Team is being overdramatic.)

#snail's art #death ment #animal death ment #just gonna tag #tw death #tw animal death #in case #hlvrai #hlvrai darnold #hlvrai gordon #hlvrai tommy #hlvrai bubby #hlvrai coomer #hlvrai benrey #id

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Tent Set-Ups Going Wrong

[ID: a green badge of a tent with text that reads ‘Sambucky Summer Camp Bingo, Stuck in a Tent, ESTD. 2023 / finish ID]

Title: Tent Set-Ups Gone Wrong

Square Filled: Stuck in a Tent

A/N: just a light-hearted cracky entry for @sambuckylibrary. where sam tries filming a Cap P.S.A, only for it to go in shambles.^^

Word Count: 873

T.W: None-ish

***

Part of being Captain America was having to maintain one's presence in the media. And while Sam tended to be exhausted from handling press conferences and interviews, he did what he could.

Sure, he couldn't dodge inappropriate or racist questions regarding his position, he knew how to deal with them. He knew how to be composed, not allowing any initial frustration get the best of him. Aware it wouldn't do him any good.

Although, it would be nice to talk back, sometimes. Even Bucky wanted to slam some reporter's head against wall at how he got a question that he disliked. Immensely.

Unfortunately, it also included some certain things that he didn't think of. . .

"You want me to star in those P.S.As?" Sam asked in disbelief.

He had been summoned to a small studio in D.C, where he had to discuss of his schedule. They all decided to meet at Rock Creek Park, where they would be filming. Since summer was approaching, they needed to have commercials featuring Sam, front and center.

"Well, Steve did it and you might as well too," the producer explained, plastering a smile that looked more of a wince. "All part of the job, I guess."

Sam huffed a sigh. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"Do you have to?" Bucky asked.

"I mean we can do something else," Joaquin added, sounding dismayed.

"Like I said, guys." Sam adjusted his cowl. "We should finish this."

Both Bucky and Joaquin exchanged a glance of chagrin.

They gathered at a small grassy field as the crew prepared the mini set. Just some bundles of wood, tents, and sleeping bags.

The director lifted a megaphone, adjusted in her seat.

"Lights. . . Camera. . . Action!"

Someone slammed the clapperboard and Sam propped his hands on his sides, facing the camera. And while Bucky and Torres stood by his sides, waving.

"So, you wanna learn how to arrange a tent, huh?" Sam asked, flashing his signature megawatt smile. "Well, lemme show you how it's done. With the help of my team, anything is possible!"

The wind howled, moving past him in a heavy current.

"Wow, you sure are pulling this off, Samuel," Bucky whispered wryly.

Repressing any urge to roll his eyes, Sam beckoned Bucky and Joaquin at the tent supplies strewn on the grass.

"First you gotta set it up," Sam said into the camera, sweeping an arm over at them. "Then put your components on the tarp. Connect your tent poles together. Insert those poles into where they ought to be and raise the tent up. Now watch as my good friends, Sergeant Bucky Barnes and Lieutenant Joaquin Torres, take this step by step."

Yeah, Sam had to memorize an entire instruction manual for this. So, if any of them noticed how he sounded automatic, maybe he could change it for another take.

Who knew how long would this go on? He had sternly informed those two to be on their best behavior. Although, that approach didn't work by eighty percent.

Bucky and Joaquin adjusted the tent's equipment, setting up the poles. They started raising the tent up slowly yet diligently. The breeze smacked a flap against Bucky and his fingers trembled upon adjusting the hook.

Whoa, it was such a big tent, he thought, refraining from gaping.

Just as Sam could have peered into the camera, the wind's heavy strength shook the poles. Yanking them off their positions. Bucky froze and flung an arm around, only for the tent to collapse down on him.

"Sam! Sam! Help! I think. . . I'm trapped!" Bucky sounded panicked.

Oh yikes, Sam thought. He tried maintaining his smile.

He should have known even filming a damn P.S.A wouldn't go peacefully. Most things in his line of work didn't.

The director and filming crew chattered in hushed tones containing concern. Joaquin winced, bowing his head while scratching his forehead.

"Okay, Cap to the rescue, everyone!" Sam sprinted towards the fallen tent.

He tried pushing it upwards and Bucky moved, crawling out of it. He scrambled to his feet, pressing his hands against the tent. The wind howled again, growing louder and denser. Streaks of grey scattered within the sky as clouds gathered.

The tent collapsed on both of them, sending them flat against the ground.

Both of them let out a grunt and a yelp, their shoulders budging and nudging. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and Sam tried kicking the tent.

If the weather was gonna be this concerning, he would have rescheduled the entire damn thing. However, he had to be in this predicament.

Yep. Sam was so not cut out for this shit. He should be a hell lot selective if he had to take up this gig. Ever again. Simple P.S.As filmed in a studio? Doable. Something he could manage, at the very least.

". . . you're going to cut this out of the finished footage, aren't you?" Joaquin asked, sounding hesitant.

"Cut! Cut!" the director yelled, her voice amplified by her megaphone's speakers. "Okay, can. . . Can someone get Cap and his sidekick out of there?"

Bucky sighed. "Maybe if we filmed indoors instead of outdoors, we wouldn't be in this tricky situation."

"Shoulda known this was a bad idea," Sam mumbled, clutching onto the tent's edge.

***

#sbsummer23 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam wilson x bucky barnes #ships: sambucky #enchant: fanfics

[angry-trashcan]

For The Birds, Bees and The Catfish

Part three of What Are You Doing Here?! The series about the chain showing up in my house one day.

TW: None

1.4K WC

I stepped into the living room, the sight I found earning a giggle.

The couch was pushed out of the way for there to be room in the center. Wind and Twilight stood in the middle, the others sprawled about randomly. “Kid, ya step back two times then the other food goes back once. How hard is it?!”

Wind threw his hands up, backing away from Twilight. “This is pointless! I don’t even wanna learn to dance!”

“Weren’t you the one to ask?” Hyrule asked, his focus staying on the dog in his lap.

“Yeah, but I didn't wanna learn to dance like a hick! Vet! You teach me!” Wind grabbed Legend’s arm, trying to get him up. He pushed him off, scoffing.

“Were you trying to teach him to two-step?” I spoke up, trying to find a free place to sit and watch.

Twilight’s eyebrows raised, “Yeah, ya know how?”

“Kinda? I go dancing with a friend of mine sometimes.

His face lit up and before I could push Sage out of the way to sit down, he was grabbing my arm. “Dance with me then!” I flustered, grabbing his shoulders so that I didn’t topple right into him.

“I-”

“Come on now, it’ll be fun!” And how could I say no to that smile? One of my hands found his, the other staying firmly on his shoulder. His free hand fell to my waist before he started to move his feet, leading easily.

Two, one, two, one, two, one-

The rhythm was set quickly, his smile growing wider. Without realizing it, we had made two laps around the living room. A smile and light laughter reaching my face. The laughter grew when he spun me, his hand following my waist and bringing me back against him. Before I could recover, he was dipping my head backwards towards the ground. I lost myself, gripping onto him for dear life. He spun back, pulling me up with him. I laughed breathlessly, “Wanna go dancing?”

“I think that sounds like a great time.”

“They have line dancing on Tuesday nights.”

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Let’s go.” I pulled away from him quickly and rushed to my room to change. When the door closed behind me I heard the loud sounds of confusion.

“Is dancing code for something?!”

<><><><><><>

After a quick and way too expensive stop at the local Cavenders, Twilight had a new set of jeans, a hat and a pearl snap shirt. He insisted his boots were fine (thankfully because I could NOT afford those too) and we were pulling up to the bar.

“You come dancin’ here? This looks like a bar, doll.”

I coughed hard at the sudden nickname, glancing at him as I put the car in park. “Yeah- it’s a bar. But they have a huge dance floor and people come here to dance.”

“Huh, alright.” He was struggling to open the car door before figuring it out and stepping out quickly. I followed quickly, shoving my things into my pockets as I locked the car. I offered him my keys. He looked down at my hand before raising an eyebrow. “I see ya trust me and that’s great an’ all. But I ain’t think you should trust me enough to drive that.”

“What?! No, Twi. I need you to put them in your pocket. Mine aren’t big enough for them.” He mouthed out a silent ‘oh’ before taking them and shoving them into his front pocket.

The person at the door checked my ID, giving one look over to Twilight before telling us to go on in. Wish I could get into bars that easily. The lights were already off, the neon beer signs lining the walls and surrounding the bars on either side of the dance floor. Tables littered around the walled off floor. The wall being about waist high for dancers to set their drinks on. People were already crowded on the wooden floor, boots scraping against it in a rhythmic pattern.

“Well?” I turned back to Twilight, “Whatcha think?”

He smiled, his canines poking out slightly. “I think this was a great decision.”

I smiled back wider, “Let’s get some drinks and then we will join in when a good song comes on.” He nodded, following me through the tables towards the bar.I quickly ordered our drinks and passed him his once it was done. He lifted it to his face, smelling it. He laughed lightly, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Ya know me well.” He clapped a hand onto my shoulder, his arm going across my back. I stood up straighter, trying to keep the blood from rushing to my cheeks with my own drink.

“Who doesn’t like whiskey?” I cleared my throat. Bailey, you idiot. YOU don’t like whiskey.

“Can’t argue with that.” With his arm still around my shoulders we walked over to a table near an entrance to the dance floor. We sat together watching people dance for a few songs, letting the faster ones play out. The chords to a familiar song started, the pace of it a bit slower than the last. 

I stood quickly, grabbing his arm. “This one, I like this song.” He nodded, taking the last drink out of his glass and setting it down onto the table. I stepped onto the wooden floor first, his steps trailing right behind mine. We fell into the same position as the house, his hand finding my waist easily. The other people on the floor all began to move in the familiar motion around the edges of the walls. His steps guided mine, the spins coming unexpectedly, the dips even more so than that. I pulled back from him, letting him spin, my hand trailing along his shoulder blades as he did. Our bodies reconnected, if only for a moment, before he spun me through his arms. His arms rose over my head, coming to cross in front of my chest and pulling my back against his chest. I took a shaky breath and swallowed hard at the contact before raising my arms back over me to turn back to face him. His smile never faltered through every spin and dip. 

The song ended too quickly, a faster pace line dance song falling on the speakers. He gave me one more dip, pulling me up slowly so we were face to face. I cleared my throat, looking away from his eyes. “We should get off the floor. I don’t know this song.”

He nodded, pulling away from me. His hand stayed in mine, guiding me off of the dance floor and back to the table we had claimed. I noticed his empty glass, picking it up from the table. “Want another?”

“If ya don’t mind.”

“I got it, wait here. I’ll be back.” He smiled, sitting down and watching the dancers until I got back. I set his newly full glass in front of him. He lifted it, taking a look to see how full it was. “I got you a double.” Before he could ask, I answered the question.

He laughed, “You didn’t gotta do all that. I bet it cost twice as much.” He brought it to his lips, taking a sip from it.

“Nah, I just smiled real pretty and he didn’t charge me.” I joked, nudging him as I took a seat next to him. 

He snorted, putting the glass down. “I’ll have to remember that trick next time.” We sat together watching the dancers for sometime. Occasionally getting up to dance to a song that caught our attention. I would join in for line dances I knew, letting him stay back and laugh at me stumbling over my own feet.

We were winding down and getting ready to leave when an all too familiar song started. “Hold on, I promise we can go after this one!” I stood quickly, hurrying to join into one of the lines.He only smiled, taking the drink from my hand.

The lyrics started, and with it the lines started moving. The steps to this song being (unfortunately) engraved into my brain for as long as I could remember. It was at the chorus that everyone shouted the words along with the blaring speakers. I made eye contact with Twilight at the same moment, his glass to his lips. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy!” His whiskey caught in this throat, coughing as he looked away from me to catch it in his hand.

I snickered, barely processing the words I was actively yelling at a real-life cowboy. And when the lines circled back to where I was facing him again his face was as red as a ripe tomato as he finished the glass.

This is just really fun to write I have no other explanation.

#The next part wont be part of this series bc reasons youll see but it will be a sequel #a uh. youll see kjsdhf #lu #linked universe #lu twilight #lu sage #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu headcanons #lu fanfiction #linked universe fanfic

[sillygay]

The story about how Nate And Finnie met

It was a regular day like no other and poor Nate got sent to detention again like always.

Nate sat down in his usual chair as he started writing sentences.

About five minutes pass by. Then ms Godfrey comes back but with a different student.

She pushes the kid in the room and then leaves.

Nate glances at that kid then looks back at his paper.

The kid sits down on the floor and puts his hood up while he tries to calm down.

Nate notices this and looks at him. Nate gets up out of his seat and walks over to that kid and sits next to him.

Nate: you alright?

Finnie: N-no

Nate: what happened?

Finnie: I got yelled at for wearing ear defenders in class.

Nate: is this why you’re here?

Finnie: yeah. I refused to remove them.

Nate: oh I’m sorry that happened to you. My names Nate. Im a sixth grader.

Finnie: nice to meet you. My names Finnie I’m an eighth grader.

Nate: oh you’re an older one huh?

Finnie: heh yeah.

Nate: could you remove your hood? Only if it’s okay with you

Finnie: yeah that’s probably a good idea *finn takes off his hood*

Nate: wow you’re really cute *blushes a bit*

Finnie: oh, thank you you’re pretty cute yourself Nate

*nate smiles as he slowly fall in love without even realizing it. But then Nate sees Finnie’s bracelet*

Nate: oh cool bracelet what does it say?

Finnie: oh thanks it says Autism it’s my Autism Medical ID bracelet.

Nate: oh? *nate starts to think about the ear defenders then puts everything together*

Finnie: I was born with autism.

Nate: I-is that why you use ear defenders?

Finnie: yeah.

Nate: so does this mean you’re disabled?

Finnie: yes, I’m disabled.

Nate: oh that’s interesting so disabled people can be disabled physically but also in the brain?

Finnie: yeah I guess you could say that. Autism is known as a hidden disability.

Nate: oh that make lots of sense now. You’re really attra—-I mean awesome

Finnie: aww thanks *pats him on the head*

Nate blushes as he falls for Finnie deeply.

Finnie: heh you’re kinda adorable…probably because you’re shorter than me haha

Nate: I’m not that short but okay fine.

Nate giggles as he blushes.

Finnie starts to realize that Nate likes him.

Finnie: I only have a couple minutes left of detention so I’m gonna give you my phone number so we can talk later *Finnie gives Nate a paper with his number on it*

Nate: I-i uhm wow thank you….i don’t have a phone yet so I’ll call you on my dad’s phone.

Finnie: sounds good to me *the bell rings*

Nate: bye Finnie it was nice meeting you

Finnie: oh and one last thing *finnie grabs Nate by the face and gives him a quick smooch on the lips before running out of detention*

Nate: uhhhhhhh….w-w-what j-just h-happened?

*nates face turns beat red and he freezes up in shock before getting up a couple minutes later and heading home*

*as the night rolled around all Nate could do was lay in bed and think about finnie and how handsome and sweet he was that’s when it hit him*

Nate: I-I’m in love.

#big nate #nate wright #oc #oc story #meeting #story #short story #boys kissing #gayboy #nate bi?

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 48: Two Degrees of Separation - Comparing notes with Sasuke and Shingen leads to more questions about the multiverse.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

“I brought these in from the car.” Sasuke slid open the door to the bedroom wide enough to pass a few shopping bags through.

“You can come in. We’re both decent.” I took the bags, noting one of them was from a high-end lingerie store. That… had the possibility of going very very wrong, in a number of ways. I dropped the bags on the foot of the bed, as Sasuke settled in a chair by the window. “You let Shingen loose in a lingerie store?”

There was a rather embarrassed cough from the ninja by the window. He looked away from us.

“I was fine. He’s the one who can’t be trusted around women’s underclothes. I may be scarred for life.” Shingen shot a glare at Sasuke, who seemed to take great interest in the parking lot outside.

“I thought it was a mannequin and not a live model,” Sasuke muttered.

“Nope. Don’t need any more details there.” Instead, I dove into the bags, finding a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts… “Oooh, Black Widow, nice.”

“Figured Natasha Romanov would be your jam.” Sasuke sounded more confident now that we’d left the subject of underwear.

“Oh yeah… and I’ve got about seven years of MCU to catch up on. And I don’t know how many seasons of Game of Thrones.” It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that I’d finally learn how some of these continuing stories ended.

Shingen and Sasuke looked at each other, then Sasuke shook his head. “Um… about the Game of Thrones conclusion… you might actually find the story of my adventures in ladies lingerie categorically less traumatic.”

Huh. I returned my attention to the bags and pulled out a hoodie! I hugged it to me. It was red, not the blue-grey shade of the one that I had been wearing on the day I had initially gone through the wormhole, but it was soft and warm and felt like home in a way that no other article of clothing had. “How did you know?” I slipped it on and zipped it up.

There was a tug on the hood. Shingen flipped it up over my head. “Red hood. The better to see you with.”

“Alright, Sasuke, are you ready for all the wormhole weirdness I need to tell you about?” The three of us had relocated to the living area of the hotel suite to eat lunch that Sasuke had picked up from one of the hotel’s onsite restaurants. He’d asked me if I wanted pizza, but until I was sure how my digestive system would readjust to modern food, I’d decided to stick with soba noodles and a light soup. I was wearing my first pair of jeans in nearly seven (or was it eight now?) years, and they fit surprisingly well (Shingen: “I know every inch of your body, it wasn’t difficult”).

“Before we debrief, I have something else for you.” Sasuke handed me a sealed manila envelope. He didn’t say anything else, so I went ahead and opened it, pulling out identification papers, including a passport as well as a bank card. The accompanying account information made me do a double, then a triple take to make sure I was reading the amount correctly.

“Sasuke, do you have previously unrevealed connections with the Yakuza?” I took a second look at the passport. Yes that was definitely me in the picture – it looked like my old student ID photo, had been “aged up” slightly. The birthday was correct as well. Someone clearly had skills.

“No. Not that I am aware of. This came from a Professor I know.” Sasuke glanced over my shoulder to look at the paperwork. “Holy mother forking shirtballs.”

“From your advisor? The one who arranged my hospital stay?” Shingen examined the passport. “Nice picture… but not as nice as the real thing.”

“No. Different professor. My advisor in Kyoto who helped get you into the University Hospital is Professor Sakaki. These – as well as Shingen’s papers and bank account … which did not have nearly this many zeros – came from a friend of my parents. I’m certain they have nothing to do with the Yakuza.” He laughed off the idea. “Actually, their friend, Professor Yamaoka was the man who gave the initial idea that led me to study wormholes and their relationship to temporal anomalies.”

Wait…what? Who?

“Professor Yamaoka.” I said it slowly, to confirm I had heard that correctly.

Aki, you have some ‘splaining to do.

“Yes.” Sasuke took the envelope and folded it up. There was a rattling noise within. “There appears to be something else inside.” He shook it. “Given the amount of money in your account, I can only surmise it’s a key to a safety deposit box that contains the Holy Grail.”

“The what?” Shingen apparently hadn’t worked his way up to European literature – or the Monty Python film (the latter was something I would make sure to correct before we went back to the Sengoku era).

“No.” I already knew what was rattling around in that envelope. “It will be a shogi piece. A lance… or maybe a knight.” It had better not be a pawn after all he’d put me through. I turned the envelope upside down and dumped the item onto the coffee table. It landed with a clink, spun a few times, and landed tokin side up.

The knight.

Sasuke blinked at me a few times. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been working for Yamaoka Akihira for the past seven years. Shogi is his… calling card.” I sank back into the sofa cushion. On the day he’d left me with Shingen, he’d kept his face in the shadows. Later, when I’d thought about it, I’d figured that he’d been trying to keep Shingen from seeing his face… but no… he’d been hiding from Sasuke.

A lot of explaining.

“Your old master… the man in the woods. He’s the same?” At my nod, Shingen turned to Sasuke. “You said this man is a friend of your parents?” Shingen quickly put things together, and I was sure he could tell this information had unsettled me.

“Yes… I mean, they aren’t besties, but I know he’s consulted them on history.” He picked up the tile and examined it. It was a modern tile, made out of some kind of tempered porcelain, and not one of the wooden ones we’d used when we played at The Mountain. “They might, possibly have some old photos of him that I could try to get my hands on.”

“Anything they have would be terrific. I feel like five mysteries just got solved, but five times that many new mysteries appeared.” Popping in and out of time would explain Aki’s many disappearing acts. But why had he never told me he was a fellow time traveler? Why had he never sent me home? And what was he doing in the Sengoku era to begin with? ‘Putting things on the right path’ seemed a lot more ominous now that I knew he was from the future. “Can they scan what they have and upload it to the cloud?”

Sasuke shook his head. “They’re mysteriously attached to paper. The last time I tried to talk my father through attaching a file, he emailed me his entire hard drive and crashed my laptop.”

I put the questions about Aki aside for the moment. Possibly Sasuke and Shingen, once I told them about my detour into another timeline, might be able to help put the pieces together when it came to Aki’s involvement. “Sasuke, remember when you said you thought Togakushi might lead to a different timeline than this?”

“Theoretically, yes, though I suppose since you made it here, that must not have been the case.” He was typing up notes on a tablet faster than I’d ever seen anyone type before. He glanced up and caught the expression on my face. “Ninja fingertips. I didn’t used to be able to type this fast.”

I led him back to the topic. “Yeah, about that. My trip through the wormhole was not like the original trip. I felt like I sort of… well, stuck.” And even though I was trying to be so totally blasé, like, ‘oh yeah, I got trapped in a temporal anomaly, NBD,’ I could feel my lungs tighten at the memory of the feeling of that fog sifting through my body. Shingen put his hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging squeeze. Yeah… he could tell I was upset.

“Given that the passage of months here and according to Yuki, in the Sengoku, was the same, you may actually have been stuck in there a year.” Right, Sasuke had gone back and for the between here and the Sengoku while I was missing. “But you didn’t experience that physically – or that wound on your arm would have healed completely – and you’d have starved to death.”

“Thanks Sasuke.” That time I did shudder. And the mental experience had been unsettling enough without throwing in starvation. “When I did come out of the wormhole, I was told I was in the wrong timeline.”

Sasuke stopped typing. He looked like he was trying not to bounce up and down on the couch. “Do you know what this means?” He hurried on before either of us could respond. “Proof that the timelines are connected to a multiverse. Who told you that you were in the wrong timeline?”

“You did.”

“I did? I did! That is… that is frakking awesome!” He pumped his fist, then bent over his tablet and did that supersonic speed typing again. “What did I say?”

Shingen and I looked at each other, exchanged a silent mental shrug, then back at Sasuke.

“You… or I guess technically Sasuke Mach 2, looked surprised to see me, and I asked you where Shingen was, and that’s when you – he said I was in the wrong timeline.” While Sasuke seemed to be having his nerdgasm, I glanced at Shingen to see how he took that. Aside from holding me even tighter, he appeared to be following along fairly well.

Sasuke continued to fire questions at me faster than I could process them. “Were you still at the Togakushi shrine? Were you in present time or the future of that time? What was I wearing? Did I have any cool tech? Did anything unusual happen before you got stuck?”

“Yes. Present, as far as I could tell. A parka. A cell phone – I think it was a cell phone. And…” Right before I got stuck Iekane had pushed me and told me… wait, before that. In my head, I rewound things back to when I was in the tree. “Shingen, have you ever heard the phrase don’t bring a knife to a gun fight?”

He pondered for a moment. “No. However it makes sense.”

I turned to Sasuke who was already typing into his tablet. “Yes, but not sure… ah. The Untouchables. 1987.”

“I’m pretty sure Iekane was already familiar with wormholes… and has been to the present before… in fact… he said… ‘I came here with him’ … him being Aki. I thought he meant he was with Aki before Aki based himself on the Mountain. But he could have meant that he came from this time with Aki.” Before Sasuke could ask more questions, I told my story from the moment Yuki and I had spotted Iekane. “Iekane looked happy to have gotten into the wormhole. If what Sasuke Mach 2 told me is true, maybe Iekane is the one who is messing up the timelines.”

“It wasn’t this Sasuke who talked to me at the flood site?” Shingen stared at Sasuke, as if he were trying to determine what was different about the other version of him. “I do remember thinking something was strange about you, but after all that happened, I’d put it out of my head once he said a child had fallen into the water.”

Pushed. The child was pushed. The boy… what was his name? His father had said it, hadn’t he? I tried to put myself back into that moment, but my thoughts were interrupted by Sasuke.

“Huh. I wonder how I travelled there without a wormhole… no wait, you said I told you that getting back here was ‘lateral jump’.” Sasuke turned his tablet into a sketch pad and began drawing some kind of schematic. “That would mean we could jump between different points in the multiverse, and-”

“Sasuke!” He looked up me, started by my tone. “You told me not to let you investigate. It sounded like getting me here stabilized this timeline. Maybe we should do as little interfering as possible.” For my part, once I was back in the Sengoku, I was going to stay as far from the wormhole nodes as possible.

“Agreed, Devil.” Shingen pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “The wormhole stole you from me once. I do not intend to let it happen again.”

“Investigating is not interfering.” Sasuke pointed out.

“Sasuke. I know you. You wouldn’t be able to resist poking around in alternate timelines… but, from what I can tell from the conversation I overheard,” I decided not to mention that I was pretty sure Sasuke Mach 2 had been talking with Katsuko Mach 2, “there’s a timeline where Kenshin is running around modern Toyko, causing all sorts of mayhem.”

Both Shingen and Sasuke were silent at that.

In fact, Sasuke literally turned pale.

Sasuke erased the schematic he’d begun to sketch on his tablet. “New plan. We stick to this timeline, and only use the wormhole to go back to the Sengoku era when it reopens – which should be in about three months.”

“That sounds like an excellent strategy,” Shingen said.

@bestbryn

#tbt12lies #throwback thursday #twelve lies i told shingen takeda #ikemen sengoku #fanfiction #shingen takeda #ikesen shingen #ikesen sasuke #fanfic #ikesen fanfic

[zmediaoutlet]

oh man the idea of constant vow au dean having to show up to collect sam at stanford in his girl body is SO good. the constant vow is so perfect as is but it is really fun to think about the what-ifs

"Hi," the woman says, smile stretching wide and too-friendly and fake, eyes skipping down Jessica's body from face to chest to feet. "I'm Grace. Sam's cousin."

"Cousin?" Jess says. "Oh -- I didn't know you had --"

"Yeah, family's not that close," the woman says, shrugging like what can you do, and then she says, "Man, Sammy's punching way above his weight class with you, huh? Way to go, man."

There's this weird adrenaline-surge tremble in Sam's bones. Waiting behind a gravestone for a ghost to show; lying to a cop's face and about to find out if it'll work. "Grace," he says, voice even by some miracle, and her eyes sweep up to his -- green, long lashes -- freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheekbones -- nose just barely crooked, like it got broken years ago, in a fight with a werewolf that almost didn't go their way, and it set a little funny, and the response was a shrug, and, hey, chicks dig scars and shit, right?

"Sam," she says back, when Sam's just staring. Full mouth, pink and pretty, that tugs into a smirk. "Need to talk to you. Alone. Family stuff," she says, with an apologetic little moue at Jess.

In the corner of his eye he sees Jess look up at him, confused. "Jess," he says, "give us a minute," and the woman's smirk spreads into a smile.

*

"Almost three bucks a gallon?" Dean says. She shakes her head, leaning her ass on the rear passenger door. "Don't know how you do it out here, Sammy."

"Don't have a car," Sam says. He's going through the box of IDs. It's split in two: the girl staring professionally at the camera as a sheriff's deputy or forest ranger or state trooper under the names Grace Slick, Christine McVie, Chrissie Hynde. The other side of the box are the same fake titles with a set of fake male names but with pictures of his brother. His brother.

"Don't know how you do it," Dean repeats, and then a slim hand folds the box lid down, and Sam looks up, and the sun's behind her but he can still see that impossible, familiar face. "Hey. We still got like three hours to Jericho. You going to have a breakdown?"

"Are we pretending like this isn't weird?" Sam says, and she rolls her eyes, flops back against the door, and Sam stands up, stares at her even if she won't meet his eyes. This filling station in the mountains is basically abandoned but for the crusty clerk inside; just as well, for what Sam can feel bubbling up his throat. "Are you kidding? You just show up out of nowhere, and you're -- you're--"

"Pretty as a picture, huh?" she says, sweet with acid underneath, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth, hard, breathing in through his nose. She glances up at him, away. Mutters, "Were you always this tall?"

Her ears are pink. Pierced although she's not wearing jewelry beyond what pinged to Sam first, in the blurred confusion of shocking an intruder in his apartment less than twelve hours ago, as familiar -- the amulet he gave his brother; a silver ring, though on her thumb instead of his brother's finger. A black t-shirt and a purple flannel shirt and a leather jacket and jeans and boots. All familiar, except they're on a woman who's maybe 5'8, a gently curvy bottom-heavy hourglass, instead of...

"What happened," Sam says.

"I told you."

"No, you didn't," Sam says, and her chin drops down to her chest, a sigh heaving out. "A witch? You've got to give me more than that. How the hell do you go back and forth? Does Dad know? Is that why--?"

"Dad knows," she says. Neutral. The gas pump clicks and she pushes off the car, walking back to the trunk. Hips swinging. Sam tears his eyes away, watches her face as she crouches, pulls the nozzle out. "Happened -- shit, two years ago? Of course he knows."

Two years. When was the last time he heard from Dean? Sam opens his mouth, thinks better of it. Swallows.

She screws the gas cap back in place and stands back up and sets the nozzle back on its hook. "Stop staring," she says.

"Dean," Sam says, helpless. Her eyes close, tight. "Is that -- do you want me to call you something else? Grace, or --"

"Grace Slick is righteous," she says. She folds her arms under her breasts, turns around. Levels a look at Sam that he has no chance of reading. "So I'm gonna say some stuff now, and I don't want you to ask me about it again for at least twenty-four hours, because we got a job to do and this crap isn't important." Sam opens his mouth and she holds up a hand, and then holds out one finger. "First of all, I'm not a chick. So, get that through your head. But I recognize I got the T&A and the pretty face and the emergency tampons in the trunk, so -- I don't know what I am, really. But I'm Dean, okay? Your big -- sibling, no matter what, who can kick your ass to Kansas and back no matter what shape."

Sam had her on the floor of the apartment, gasping, her wrist slender and breakable under his hand. He swallows. "Got it."

"Good," she says. Another finger. "Two: I know you got a hundred questions about how this whole thing works, what happened, yadda yadda. We don't have time for that, man. Just telling you, I'm gonna be girl-shaped for the foreseeable, so for now -- Deanna's fine, if we're in front of people, or -- whatever, in the car too, I don't care. I'm me. Doesn't matter what you call me."

Deanna. She tucks a wavy lock of hair behind her ear. Presses her lips together and takes a deep breath, then looks away from Sam, back out at the highway. A third finger, briefly extended and then dropped, her hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans. "Nobody knows," she says. Chin high, eyes on the road. "Not other hunters, or anyone. When -- it first happened, Dad and me, we... we tried everything. Dad killed the witch but that didn't stop it. So. We figured out to live with it. Kinda useful, actually. Sometimes. Even if I gotta keep two sets of clothes in the trunk, ha." She licks her lips. "Anyway. I thought about calling, but... what would I say, huh? Plus, not like I expected it to come up."

"You didn't think it'd come up," Sam says, finally.

Her eyes flick back to him. "Two years," she repeats. His teeth click shut. Her mouth curves, ironic.

Sam sits back down, the passenger side of the bench sinking familiarly under his weight. Two years and a two-part sibling, driving all over America, and he never knew. They hadn't talked but somehow he assumed he'd find out if something happened -- if either Dean or Dad were hurt bad, or if they'd gotten arrested, or if god forbid the worst happened -- he'd know, somehow. This isn't the worst but it seems impossible that it's just -- been happening, somewhere, and he was oblivious, going to school and studying and pretending like the nighttime world didn't exist, while Dean --

Deanna nods, her cheek sucked in on one side. "Anyway," she says, again. She fishes the keys out of her jacket pocket. "Couple more hours to Jericho. I got a state trooper ID that works. We've got to find out what happened there."

"Yeah," Sam says. Deanna walks around the car, folds herself into the front seat. The engine turns over. He's staring at the ground between his sneakers. Bright morning. He should be in class.

"Dude, get the lead out," Deanna says. Sam swivels on the seat, closes the passenger door.

She squints at him across the bench and says, "Put a tape in, would you?" He reaches down and finds the box. "No Jefferson Airplane," she says, and gives him a crooked smile. First real one he's had, since she broke in -- since he walked out of the rental house four years ago, and his brother had given him that terrible smirk and said see you when I see you, Sammy.

"How about Jefferson Starship?" Sam says, trying, and she snorts her way into a laugh. The car leaps forward.

#my writing #the constant vow #...ish #boy oh boy is sam not prepared to learn how she turns back #but this is mostly just to keep my hand in #i'm so out of practice that i just need to write literally anything #so. au ficlet of an au fic. let's get some layers in this bitch.

[slashhinginghasher]

Fate, Or Just Bad Luck

@thesightstoshowyou pspspspspsps

Serial killer meets final girl. They do not hit it off.

Lok Smith belongs to Sights, Ki Dufresne belongs to me

~

"Okay there is no way you didn't pregame before this."

"I told you I suck at pool!"

"I didn't think you meant this badly, Ki! Have you had an MRI lately? Any cranial trauma in your past?"

"Yeah, I used to huff lead paint as a baby."

Ki Dufresne rolled her eyes and attempted to line up a shot. The stick glanced off the cue ball, sending it wobbling a scant half inch to the left. So far, she hadn't even managed to get the cue ball to make contact with any of the other pool balls, let alone move one enough to progress the game. Her friends had stopped trying to coach her and were instead watching her with something akin to awe.

"Cut her some slack, guys," Derrick said. "Shaft and balls aren't exactly Ki's thing."

"Alright, slut, why don't you show everyone how well you handle a long hard pole?"

Ki shoved the pool cue into his hands and swatted him on the ass, right over the pride flag embroidered on his back pocket. Their close friends laughed a made a few more innuendos while Derrick ran his hands suggestively along the stick. Some of the others looked a little nervous. The group tonight was large, a "friends and friends of friends" type deal that encompassed two pool tables and several of the neighboring booths at the bar. That meant there were an unprecedented (for her) number of heterosexual people around, several of whom were uncertain if they could laugh at the gay jokes without being homophobic.

They absolutely could laugh, but the quiet desperation as they ran their mental Ally Status calculus was also hilarious, so Ki liked to exacerbate it when she could.

Ki took a swig of her drink. One of the friends of friends, a girl named Laney, had been talking animatedly with a guy at the bar for the past five minutes, and was now heading back to the group with the guy in tow.

Straight towards Ki. Looking very excited.

Oh no.

Did Laney know Ki was gay? Ki couldn't remember which members of the extended group knew about her sexual orientation, and Derrick was too busy annihilating his opponent at pool to start trading gay slurs with her. The guy was sauntering, hands in his pockets, which meant he was probably insufferable. Oh, her night was going to be so ruined if she had to talk to him. She turned away, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed their approach, but Laney was on a mission and that mission was making Ki interact with some random asshole.

"Lok, this is my friend Ki," Laney introduced, practically bouncing with excitement. "Ki, this is Lok."

"Bullshit," Ki said.

The guy - Lok - laughed. He was tall. His hair was very red and he had a lot of freckles. He was also smirking. Ki hated guys who smirked.

"I promise you, it's not bullshit," he replied, even though Ki hadn't really been addressing him. "I can even show you my ID if you want."

"I don't."

Completely oblivious to Ki's animosity, or completely uncaring, Laney shoved her glass into Ki's free hand.

"Can you watch my drink? I have to use the bathroom. Thanks!" Laney darted off without waiting for a response, leaving Ki with the undivided attention of a smirking redhead and no free hands with which to punch him in the dick if need be. Lok, for his part, didn't seem too put out by the sudden exit of the girl he'd been chatting up.

"So."

She could run off to the bathroom too, but she still had half of her own drink left, and asking someone to look after two drinks for you seemed like kind of a dick move. Annoyed as she was, she was not about to leave any girl's drink unattended in the presence of a strange man.

"Lok and Ki, huh?"

She could chug hers down, but the last time she tried to chug anything it went up her nose and almost killed her.

"Must be fate."

Lord have mercy. Maybe she should down her drink. And Laney's, too. Just to survive this conversation.

"I bet we'd fit together great," Lok stage-whispered, leaning in and winking.

"Ew," Ki said. "Aren't you in the pre-stages of hooking up with Laney?"

Lok was not deterred.

"I see no need to rule anything out this early in the evening."

"Ew." Ki wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Lok was still not deterred.

"Aw, what's wrong, not looking for a happy ending tonight?"

The phrasing alone almost made her gag.

"You are not my type."

"What is your type?" He cocked his head like a puppy. Ki did not find it endearing.

"Your sister."

"Alas," Lok sighed, "I don't have a sister. But I have been told I look stunning in a dress."

Ki was starting to think a bullet to the head wouldn't be a deterrent for him.

"Look, in the interest of saving us both time, I'm going to summarize the rest of this conversation." Ki took a fortifying swig of her drink. "I tell you straight up I'm a lesbian. You ask if I've ever fucked a man. I say no. You say how could I possibly know I don't like dick if I haven't tried it. I say have you ever tried dick. You get mildly affronted and insist that of course you haven't and I say well and give you a meaningful look. You rally and say that well, I haven't tried your dick and I-"

"-throw a drink in my face?" Lok cut in, eyes sparkling.

She was holding both glasses pretty tightly, almost like a weapon.

"I wouldn't do that. Leaves too much mess for the bartenders to clean up."

"That's very considerate of you."

"Thank you. So did I cover everything?"

"Well, you did leave me hanging a bit at the end," he said, tapping a finger to his lip. "What happens if not an impromptu alcohol bath?"

"I just glare and tell you to fuck off since you seem to need it spelled out for you."

Lok chuckled and definitively did not fuck off.

"For the record," he said, leaning in again, "I have tried dick, and quite enjoyed it, too."

"Oh." That was a bit unexpected. "Congratulations."

Ki was spared from any of his additional attempts at charm by Laney's return.

"Laney!" she shouted. "Come get your boy, I don't want him."

Ki returned the other girl's drink and went off to harass Derrick, who was gyrating against his pool cue like it was a stripper pole in what was presumably a victory dance.

Behind her, Lok was no longer smiling.

#posts this in an attempt to bait sights into an rp or a response fic #come and get your man he's hitting on lesbians at college bars #ki dufresne #lok smith #my writing #others ocs

[swagtastic-bougie-pompadour]

Taraka (the one behind @taraka-at-naranjauva ) speaking, I have an idea…

Cossie (who I’ll leave notes on in this) meeting Clive, talking for a bit on stars or something like that, and leaving via a teleport…only to suddenly teleport back in and hand Clive something that proves that Cossie knows he and Clavell are one and the same before teleporting away.

As for the notes:

//Thanks for the request! This one's pretty much short and sweet, and Cossie's fun to write for!

Surrounded by the bright lights of Mesagoza and Naranja-Uva itself, the Schoolyard isn’t any stargazer’s first pick of destinations. The shining stars within the city are numerous and luminous enough to drown out nearly all but the North Star and a smattering of other named stars. 

That fact wasn’t enough to stop Clive, finally on his last rounds before ditching the old disguise and heading home for the evening, from glancing up at the night sky, feeling out the name of one of the stars in the back of his mind. He knew that one. It was right there on the tip of his tongue. It must’ve been Theta… Saga…

“Hi there, Mr. Clive! If you’re looking at that bright one, it’s called Vega!”

Clive turned around, looking for the small child’s voice before finally finding them at the edge of the battlefield. Waving happily. He’s pretty sure the kid teleported themselves over there, from how their voice moved, but he isn’t too bothered by it. Stranger things have come to pass at this school. 

“Oh, Cossie! What brings you here so late?”

“I’m just going to meet with Uncle Ta before going to my room… what are you doing, Mr. Clive? Stargazing?”

“Something like that! They’re suuuuuuper clear where I’m from, so this is nothing, but… it’s still nice. You get me?”

“Yeah! The stars are really interesting. For example, the one I pointed out earlier, Vega, is only 25 light years from here!”

“Well, that doesn’t sound much like ‘only’ to me, but I guess it’s pretty different for you, yeah?”

“I still can’t teleport that far! I only mean it’s not too far for space.” 

Rather than laughing at the presumption, though, Cossie only smiles kindly. If only my students were all like them, Clive mused to himself. Alas, he had to appreciate sweet students who didn’t threaten to beat him up or bite his hair off where he could. 

“Right… my bad! After all, you’re still human. A super cool human! With really cool space facts! You’ve gotta tell me some more someday, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Clive…”

Cossie stifles a small yawn, before whispering “sleepy…” to themselves. 

“I think… I’m gonna go find Uncle Ta and go to bed, okay? It was nice seeing you though, Mr. Clive!”

“Alright! Stay safe, Cossie. Don’t fall in a pit or anything!”

“Huh?”

“Long story.”

“Okay…”

Clive watched the young student wander off happily into the school. At least he could keep his cover with somebody… right?

“Oh! By the way! Mr. Clive!”

The young Pokéhuman reappeared in front of the disguised director, holding out a card. Clavell’s Employee ID. 

“You dropped this! Have a nice night, Mr. Clavell!”

#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #//ooc ask #250 followers writing requests #scheduled post

[levans44]

Damage Control - Chapter 19

“For the 100th time, Sam, the next gas station is like 8 miles away. We’ll be there soon.”

Captain America yells from the driver seat at the Falcon, who’s sprawled out in the back—hungry, exhausted, and whining like a toddler. Through the rear-view mirror, she eyes Sam desperately rummaging through the seat pockets for remainders from their last stop. 

“Yo, James, did you eat the last piece of gum?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Answer the question, man!”

“All right, that’s it.” 

Bucky sighs, kicking the back of Steve’s seat as he yells: “Steve! I wanna change seats when we get off.”

Oh, dear, how’d she get here?

“New Jersey?”

“Yep.” She sighs, sinking down into a chair across Robin’s desk, face buried in her hands.

“What the hell is in Jersey?” Robin makes a face, nose scrunching into her brows, as she swivels around from her computer, traffic charts and graphs displayed on the screen. 

“Dunno. Real Housewives?” 

Robin lets out a snort, reaching out to toy with a pen on her table. She sighs, gathering up the files in her lap with a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Whatever, Jersey’s nothing compared to what I put Anne through with all this recent press.”

This weekend was the 52nd annual SHIELD conference, set to take place in Atlantic City. Though her boss normally attended company-wide conferences, she thought it was only fair that she take Anne’s place this year, given the little publicity storm she had caused last week. Realizing she was going to have to spend a weekend alone in a hotel room in an unfamiliar city, however, she was starting to feel a little less sure about her decision to volunteer.

“So.”

Her head lifts up at the change in Robin’s tone, and she’s frowns at the coy smirk on her friend’s face.

“What?”

“Captain America, huh?”

She groans loudly, burying her face in her hands as she murmurs a quiet profanity into her palms.

“You saw that too?”

“Who didn’t?” Then, Robin leans in, dropping her volume as she glances around surreptitiously.

“You know what the office is saying about you and Cap now, right?”

Robin only grins at the fearful frown on her face. 

“People think he was there to ‘guard’ you. You know, in case some crazies try to attack you for the SRA thing.”

Huh.

She stays silent, carefully observing Robin as she lets out a low whistle, shaking her head incredulously. 

“Crazy. Who knew you’d get Captain America as a personal bodyguard?”

Once it sinks in that she’s been miraculously gifted with a decent cover for the whole ordeal, she nods, putting on her best poker face. 

“… yeah. Crazy.”

She’ll come clean to Robin. Someday. Soon. Just not now. 

Her second save of the day comes in the form of a buzz in her pocket.

“Sorry, I gotta take this.” She gestures, glancing at the caller ID as she steps out of Robin’s office. 

Steve Rogers

Speak of the devil angel.

As always, he greets her with a cheerful ‘hey,’ making her smile into the phone. 

“What’s up?” She maneuvers around the office back to her desk, casting polite smiles to her coworkers, many of whom still give her reserved glances. 

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Shit.

Her eyes squeeze shut in realization—given how busy she’s been the past week, what with all the publicity meetings and SHIELD press events, she didn’t have a spare minute to mull over how exactly she was gonna ‘try to make it work’ with Steve. She had even temporarily forgotten the fact that they never got their first date (you know, the mini-golf one?), on account of the news breaking the next morning. She knew that Steve, being the saint he was, had been purposely giving her space this past week so she could make amends at work. 

Even if she did have the capacity to think about where their relationship was going, however, she still had to be wary of the persistent journalists constantly crowding the lobby of her building. Dissatisfied with the generic official announcement that SHIELD released about the incident, they were desperate for a 5-minute sit-down with the troublemaker employee herself, stopping at no lengths to get it.

(The last time they saw each other, when he picked her up after work in his Cap suit, a group of paparazzi had been waiting outside her building. Though they were miraculously not spotted, the incident proved the dangers of them stepping out together in public any time soon.)

“I was thinking we could have dinner, maybe somewhere private? We could do the Compound, if that’d make you comfortable. If not, Tony’s recommended a few private venues for us. Seems a little upscale but I could try and find…“

She winces, loud enough to cut him off.

Fuck. Now she was really regretting her decision to volunteer. 

“… hey, you alright?”

Another bout of guilt at the concern that immediately replaces the excitement in his tone. 

“Y-yeah. I’m… I’m fine, Steve. Just…”

Her eyes close again, as if it would be easier to relay the news to him that way. 

“I have to go to Jersey this weekend. For a SHIELD conference.”

“Alone?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is that the one in Atlantic City? I think Sam’s going to that.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. He’s got family in Jersey and I think some people from his old job are gonna be at the conference.”

A small pause, and she hears shuffling from the other end. She purses her lips, painfully waiting to hear the disappointment in his voice. What he suggests, next, however, takes her by surprise.

“Here’s an idea: what if I go with you?”

Um.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been to New Jersey in a while. It’ll be nice."

And what was she supposed to say to that—no, stop being so damn considerate, offering to waste your weekend on some boring SHIELD conference so she wouldn’t be alone?

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”

Fuck, Steve.

“N-no, it’s… that’s really thoughtful, Steve. Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll let Sam know.” 

And, exactly two days later, at 6 pm on a Friday, she finds herself seated in the back of Sam’s car, fully loaded with all their luggage so they can begin the 4 hour drive to Atlantic City.

“Roadtrip!” Sam announces loudly, joyously tapping on the wheel. Bucky rolls his eyes from the passenger’s seat.

“You’re a literal child, Wilson.”

“Why are you even coming, man? Don’t you have some more brooding to do all weekend?”

“Hey, guys.”

It’s Steve who puts an end to their childish quarrel from the backseat, before he bumps his knee into hers, glancing down at her in a quiet apology. She only smiles in return, half-nervous, half-grateful to have the entire weekend to spend with him (oh, and the two children in the front seat, of course). 

She watches Sam turn the ignition, before her eyes trail over to the Winter Soldier. Truth be told, she was a little nervous to be traveling with Sergeant Barnes. Given their limited but hostile history, it made her a little restless to speculate why he had decided to tag along, especially knowing that she would be there. 

Yet, he was Steve’s friend, and it was important for her to try and make amends with him too. How she planned on winning his heart, though, was still a work-in-progress.

“Yo, Steve!” Sam’s loud announcement breaks her out of her thoughts.

“Before we leave, I’ve got an important question…” He adjusts the rearview mirror, before flashing her a mischievous grin through it. 

“… y’all dating now or what?”

Fuck. 

This was gonna be a long weekend. 

Damage Control Masterlist

#mcu #mcu fic #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #marvel mcu #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #captain america #captain america smut #captain america fic #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #smut #romance #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #sam and bucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winter soldier #winterfalcon #sambucky #road trip

[dragonmuse]

Hey, that YAILY ask you answered a few anons back, how you mentioned you were trying to figure out how Izzy finds Read. "greasepaint is a bitch to get out of fabric" - what about Izzy tries taking it to dry cleaners, but "hmm, that kid on the other side of the street looks like they’re about to keel over-oh, never mind they did, welp, guess its hospital time. Hey eddy, I'm in the ER, no, no allergies, someone got stabbed. No, not me. anyway, how do feel about having a guest for dinner tonight?"

(ANON ANON YOU ARE A GENIUS! And anon who initially requested this, I hope this at last scratches the itch)

Fridays, Izzy picked up and dropped off the dry cleaning. He was so regular that they usually had it ready for him. The prices was generally astronomical thanks to a million kinds of fabric pressed against his work uniforms, but he paid it unthinkingly. Such was the way of his world.

"Sorry!" Marcus behind the counter called when he came in that day. "We've been overloaded this week, yours is ready, just buried. Give me five?"

Izzy nodded, turning to head back outside. It was a decent day and the smell of the dry cleaners was not a favorite. He cased the street idly. The kid that lingered by the convenience store was there again today. They'd appeared a week or two ago, not quite panhandling, but not refusing the few dollars that Izzy offered as he walked by either.

They were big, for all they folded down small. Smaller than last week. Hm. They were listing a little.

....and there they went. Shit. Izzy pushed off the wall, checked traffic, then hustled across the street.

He squatted down to their side,

"Hey," he said sharply, clearly. "You alive?"

No answer. Shit. He touched them gently, got a pulse and could hear them breathing. There was blood, he realized, soaking through the arm of their shirt at an astounding rate. Clinically, he took out his cell, punched numbers, jammed it between his shoulder and ear even as he got out his knife and started cutting away at their sleeve.

"What's your emergency?" A calm voice asked him,

"Hey, Barb, it's Izzy. I've got a fainter on Broadway, in front of the Sip and Go. Looks like blood loss I'm trying to get at the wound now."

"Why are you calling me?" Barb asked.

"It's my day off. Can I get a bus?"

"Lucky you, huh? Okay, I'm sending someone to your location. Do you know anything about them?"

He glanced at the face, broken nose definitely, along with a split lip.

"No, looks young, white. Underfed." He got the sleeve open and found a wicked, ragged wound. "Cut inflicted by something dull or went in dirty. They're going to need stitches, tetanus shot and probably a blood bag. Who's on duty?"

"Deb and Skunk are on their way to you."

"Great, thanks."

The cops always showed to scenes, but Deb and Skunk were a good smokescreen. They showed, got the kid on a stretcher and in the bus, Izzy still putting pressure on the wound until Skunk took over. The cops would get a bare bones statement later.

They didn't come to on the way to the hospital and being unconscious got you some privileges. They were whipped away past the waiting room. An hour later, one of the nurses that he knew well let him into the room.

"No ID," the nurse told him solemnly. "They've been sleeping rough, if I had to guess. There's a shelter that we can direct them too when they're up and about."

"Yeah, good," Izzy nodded.

Eddy: where'd you go to get the dry cleaning? Russia?

Izzy: in the er. not for me. kid passed out on the sidewalk. blood loss. must've been in a hell of a fight.

Eddy: you took them in?

Izzy: wasn't going to just leave them.

Eddy: ok. no dry cleaning?

Izzy: going to stay until they wake up at least.

That wasn't too long a wait. Eyelids fluttered open a few minutes later followed by a bone deep groan. Izzy waited until they'd sat up a little, oriented themselves.

"Am I in the fucking hospital?" they groaned.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you free bleed everywhere like a dipshit," Izzy leaned back in the chair, relieved that they seemed with it. "Who beat your face in?"

"I beat their face in," they said, a vicious undercurrent in their voice that he appreciated vastly.

"Got learn how to duck then."

"Who are you?" they asked warily.

"Lucky you, a bystander who moonlights as an EMT. Izzy Hands. You?"

"Read."

"You got somewhere to go home to, Read? Because the nurses are going to come back with pamphlets, tissues and questions."

They shifted, looked away.

"Sure I do."

"Uh huh."

He stayed while the nurses came in, then the doctors. Then the cops. He didn't say much. All he learned was her pronouns, and that she did not, in fact, have an address to provide. She gave nothing away about the fight and stonewalled them at every turn.

Izzy: she's homeless

Eddy: fuck, fine. I'll make the guest bed. where was all this sainthood in our twenties?

Izzy: drowned by the booze probably

Eddy: pickled. I'm leaving for the bar in an hour.

Izzy: probably miss you entirely then. see you on monday.

Read argued about going home with him right up until the nurse asked about calling a family member and then all of a sudden, Izzy was a dear family friend as it turned out. He had to leave to get the car and she was waiting in the parking lot when he got back.

"Grabbed your bag," he pointed in the backseat and relief passed over her face.

The further out they got, the tenser she went, but there wasn't much he could do for that. It was warm out, and the garden was in full bloom as he pulled up the drive. The sight of that seemed to ease her a little.

"This your work?"

"Nah, that's Eddy."

"Eddy is your..."

"Spouse. But they're with their boyfriend this weekend," he could generally say that in a neutral tone these days. Practice made mediocrity or something.

"Oh," Read settled on and followed him inside.

He got her set up in the guest room, pointed out the bathroom then made himself scarce. She falls asleep before he can get dinner into her.

Read haunted the house that weekend. He left food out for her, lets her maintain her space. He spent a lot of time outside. On Sunday, Lucius called and Izzy caught him up.

"You took in a stray?"

"Seemed like the thing to do," he meandered through the vegetable patch.

"Did it? Look at you. Very cute. What will you do with her?"

"Dunno if she'll let me do jack shit, but she needs help."

"She's staying, that means something."

Eddy came home on Monday morning in a great mood. She was singing to herself, and came to find him right away.

"Where's the girl?" Eddy wound an arm around Izzy's waist.

"In the guest room, probably," he stepped in closer.

Eddy kissed him, other hand sinking into his hair and Izzy just managed to switch off the burner before losing himself in it.

"Oh, shit, sorry," someone said and Eddy broke off with a soft sigh, turning.

"No worries," she shoved off Izzy, and held out a hand. "Eddy."

"Read," Read said tightly. "I was um. I'm going to-"

And she was gone.

"What the fuck?" Eddy glanced back at Izzy.

"No idea. She's skittish."

Skittish enough that Izzy caught her headed for the door later that night.

"You going to walk to town?" He asked from the couch and watched her jump about a foot in the air.

"Shit," she muttered.

"If you've got somewhere, I'll give you a ride," he offered mildly. "But otherwise that's a long fucking stumble in the dark."

"I can't stay," she lifted her pack a little.

"Why not?" Her eyes flicked up the stairs. "Eddy?"

Read looked at him miserably, not saying a word.

"Iz?" Eddy called down the stairs, "Where's the- oh! Never mind, found it."

"What about them?"

Read only shook her head, moved closer to the door.

"Shit, fine, hold on," Izzy got out his phone.

Group Text: THEM

Izzy: one twenty-something idiot needs temporary housing asap

Lucius: re-homing already?

Izzy: she doesn't want to stay, but it's us or the street so someone better pony the fuck up

Jim: she can stay on our futon

Roach: that's cruel and unusual punishment.

Jim: what about your place then?

Roach: fuck no.

Stede: It's not very large, but I have Alma's room if she'd like it.

Izzy hesitated, watched the way Read stood in the moonlight, ready to bolt. Not the fucking time.

Izzy: fine. we'll be there in an hour.

"Your lucky day," he told her, getting up. "Give me five. You've got a bed in the city."

"That's where I was headed," she said quietly. "I can get work there."

"Stede'll give you a job. And anything else your want if you turn those big blues on him. He's a fucking soft touch."

He went upstairs. Eddy was in their closet, putting away laundry.

"I saw the texts," they said, not looking up. "It's me, huh?"

"She's scared shitless of you," he agreed.

"Smart girl," she smoothed down the folds of a t-shirt, voice tight.

"Hey," Izzy stepped in closer. "Not like you did anything."

"No, I know," Eddy brushed hair back from her forehead. "Honestly, I didn't want her here anyway. But...still. Doesn't feel great."

"You'll win her over," Izzy said with certainty. "Everyone always winds up liking you better than me."

"That's cause you're an incurable asshole," she smiled at him touched his wrist. "But I think maybe not this time."

"Every time," he countered and kissed her cheek. "I'll drive her in."

Stede was waiting and Izzy could practically taste Read's relief at the sight of the man, about as threatening as a loofah. Izzy didn't bother telling her how dangerous Stede was in his own right. She needed to believe she was safe and she was. Good enough.

"You're not headed straight back home?" Stede frowned as Izzy lingered in the door, watching Read run a hand over the velvet couch.

"Yeah," he said readily. "I am."

"But-"

"Eddy," Izzy shrugged.

"Oh. Yes. I suppose..."

They stared helplessly at each other. It wasn't a bridge Izzy could bring himself to build, but once and a great long while, he appreciated looking over the valley anyway. To see someone else that had a general idea of the circumstance,

"Night, Bonnet. Night, Read."

"Good night," Read stepped towards him then stopped. "Thanks. For everything."

Izzy went home to crawl into bed with Eddy. He knew he was a living reminder of the past, but he could kiss her the way they did now. Be a reminder of the now too.

And he was right, of course. Eddy won Read over though it took months and a red head and the kind of night Izzy thought he'd never see again.

Read technically had a terrible little room that she would tell everyone was her home address, but after that, she lived scattershot between Bonnet's studio, Izzy and Eddy's house and sometimes even on Jim's terrible futon. It was only when Anne and her started both making a reasonable living that she genuinely had her own place. Even then, often she'd drive out on Izzy's bike (her bike now really, Izzy never needed it) and invade the kitchen for supper.

"Your kid is eating my leftovers," Eddy would inform him tartly when he got off a late shift.

"Uh huh," Izzy would laugh at her. "And you could've stopped her at literally any point."

"She was hungry," Eddy would grumble.

Read would make it up to them in the morning, weeding down rows of flowers tirelessly at Eddy's side. Izzy would watch them idly from the porch, Lucius sometimes there too, feet in Izzy's lap. The world was a strange and wonderful place some days.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #you're awful i love you #au of the au #izzy hands #mary read #eddy teach bonnet

[duelistkingdom]

coffee shop soundtrack

Summary: Yusei was home, and she was running to her.

Rating: G

Ships: Yusei Fudo/Aki Izayoi

Author’s note: this was for @yearoftheotpevent! this is a coffee shop au!

read on ao3 / support me on kofi / join my discord (18+)

Jack was easily the worst co-worker that Yusei ever had the misfortune of having, and she was regretting asking him to work with her. It had been an idea that she had, figuring that her older brother could use the experience. In high school, Jack had been the one "going places." In university, Jack burned out and wound up on their adoptive mother's couch. Yusei had put her neck on the line to get Jack this job in hopes that a job would help him get on his feet. Now Yusei was stuck with Jack, who liked to boss people around and hated customers openly. Yusei understood that urge.

Except this poor redhead in scrubs with an id badge pinned to her chest that declared her to be "Izayoi, Aki, med student" didn't deserve it. It was clear the poor girl was stressed out, and Jack raising his voice at her and berating her over the coffee couldn't help. Yusei cut in. "Sorry, um, Izayoi," she said, glancing up from the badge pinned to her scrubs to her face - and Yusei's heart stuttered. Long eyelashes framed Izayoi's hazel eyes that caught the light in a way she couldn't find the words to describe. She could spend the rest of her life trying to explain her beauty. It felt like she was seeing sunlight for the first time in her life. "Er, my... coworker just needs a little more time to wake up."

She elbowed Jack in the stomach, who glared at her. "Right," Jack said, sounding almost like he wanted to argue further but decided not to. "I'll let Yusei here handle your coffee order, doctor."

Jack had spat the word, and Izayoi flinched. "It's okay," she said, shaking her head as she handed Yusei the cup of coffee. "It's just... I asked for it iced, and he just started yelling at me about how it dilutes the flavor of the coffee. Never mind the fact that it's just so bitter that I can't possibly drink it."

"Yeah, he just... has his own opinions about how coffee should be drunk," Yusei said as she took the coffee back, dumping it out. No doubt Jack had given her some Blue Eyes Mountain Coffee considering the remark on bitterness. "I can fix that for you, Izayoi. So I'm guessing you're stopping here before heading off to school, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, sounding almost flustered. "I just moved here to start med school. I was told this is the best coffee shop on the way to school."

"It usually is," Yusei said as she made sure to take care of all the extras that Izayoi had asked for. "Just not when Jack's working. But tell you what. Next time your coffee's on me to make up for how Jack treated you."

"Oh no, you don't have to -" And then she eyed the cup she'd pushed her way - the one with herr number scrawled on it. It'd been a move she wouldn't normally make, but Martha had always told her that faint heart never won fair lady. Her heart pounded in his chest, wondering how she'd react. In that second, a lifetime passed her by as she waited to see if fortune would favor the bold. She smiled, making eye contact with her. "Though... I think I might take you up on. See you around..."

"Yusei," she said, smiling at her. "Call me?"

Aki picked up her cup, toasting it to her. "You got it, Yusei," she said, shifting her backpack. "Though... next time, let's do this when you're not on shift."

As she walked out of the coffee shop, she couldn't help but feel like this was going to be the start of something new.

#year of the otp #myfanfic

[eddieheart]

DEVIL’S IN THE DETAILS

Part 3

Fandom: Lucifer

Pairings: NONE

Words: 588

Description: Lilith finds the devil

Part 2:

"So you are a demon! I was right, you dirty sneak." Lucifer said playfully, pointing an accusing finger at the younger woman.

"I'm not a demon. I just have a weird face." She said while crossing her arms defensively.

"Then who are you?" Maze asked, twirling a karambit in her hand.

Turning away, Lilith rubbed her face in exasperation. How could she explain who she was to a pair of strangers.

"I'm Lilith, not like Lilith- Lilith but like, that's me, I'm just me." She stuttered out nervously.

"Well there must be more, I mean, no offence but, your face." Maze gestured to the other woman with her knife and gave as close as an apologetic look as she could muster.

"What can I say, I'm the daughter of a shamed ex-nun, one of four girls, black sheep of the family, only one with a different baby daddy, weird face."

Lucifer perked up at the mention of her mother, he leaned forward with a smirk.

"Daughter of a nun you say?" He asked, raising a brown

"Yeah, Grace Isaiah. Of st. Agatha's." She said the name of the nunnery sarcastically, rolling her eyes and leaning back slightly.

"Grace Isaiah? Why do I know that n- of my dad, I had an affair with a nun named Grace Isaiah way back when! How is ol' Gracie gal?"

She stopped for a moment as the new information washed over her, it couldn't be true, could it? Swallowing thickly, she spoke.

"Wait- your name is Lucifer right? Oh my gods." Her moth opened in shock and her eyes prickled.

"What is she so upset about?" Maze asked in confusion, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm pretty sure Luci here is my dad. I mean- she always talked about being seduced by the devil, how Lucifer had ruined her life." Her eyes cast downward as she spoke.

"People always blame their problems in me, I'm not the bad guy here. People make their own choices, I just punish them." Lucifer replied, exasperatedly throwing his arms in the air.

"After you had sex she got pregnant, she was kicked out of the nunnery. But she was still to committed to get an abortion, even if I was the devil's baby." She bit back tears and spoke again.

"I'm sorry I need- I need sex on the beach."

"That's a little out of place at the moment but it can be arranged." He replied jokingly.

Lilith rolled her eyes and looked away from the older man, glancing between him and the ground.

"No, the drink. I need sex in the beach."

It had been the first alcoholic drink she'd ever had and she was nothing if not sentimental. She still remembered that night, sitting alone with her friends in a bar, fake IDs in hand.

"Maze, a drink for our new friend hmm. Looks like it's gonna be a long night huh... daughter." Maze walked off to the man's personal bar and began to prepare a drink.

Lilith walked over to the man and sat timidly beside him on a bar stool.

Even after years of hearing her father was the devil, she was still shocked at the fact that he really was the devil. Lilith never expected to actually find her father, it was an idea she’d long gotten rid of. A feeling she couldn’t place filled her soul, or lack there of.

She was sitting next to her father and she could even begin to identify what she was feeling.

@buggylad

#fanfiction #fanfic #orginal character #original female character #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer #mazekeen #mazikeen #mazikeen smith