#trying to pep talk myself and anyone else who needs to hear it! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bastart13 · 3 years

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I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine. Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

#team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 #fem tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #character design #art #i'm very happy with how these turned out

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kaihavoc · 3 years

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Cloud 29

a/n: inspired by my new two favorite videos: this and this one

Lingering just outside the Chelsea locker room, I wait until I see the last person leave. Well, second to last. Christian passes me by with a toothy grin, telling me to “take good care” of my boyfriend tonight because he earned it. Laughing nervously, I just give him a polite wave, acting like he didn’t just give me that advice, and sneak inside the locker room. There’s only one person who hasn’t burst through the doors and come out to join the festivities. The superstar––the hero––of today’s match. Kai Havertz.

I know Kai; he’s got to be swirling with composed excitement, taking his time to revel in this momentous occasion without the chaos of overexcited screams and cheers. I can just imagine his humble smile, those crinkles rippling across his cheeks, that endearing overbite he’s always been so insecure about. The mere thought of him puts a smile on my face.

I only need to take a few steps when I see him. Considering he’s the only person left in the locker room, he wasn’t that hard to find. I pause in my tracks, absorbing the sight of him: sweaty, shirtless, head down with his back against the metal locker. I make no noise, but he must sense a presence because his head snaps up. Our eyes meet, and his face lights up as he bounds over to me, tackling me in a hug. He towers over me, but that doesn’t stop him from practically leaping into my arms. Yeah, as if I have the upper body strength to carry him. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m not as physically fit as his teammates.

I open my mouth, about to congratulate him, but the dullness in his blue eyes stops me. Something’s off. He’s happy to see me, that’s clear, but, otherwise, he’s not as ecstatic as I thought he would be. Why isn’t he? Not only did his team win the Champions League, but he scored the winning goal. His first goal of the Champions League, no less––he went out with a bang. He should be over the moon.

“You look festive,” Kai comments, playfully tugging on one of my pigtails. I wanted to try something new, so I had tied my long hair into pigtails with two royal blue ribbons. Aside from that, I’m just in my typical outfit I wear whenever he plays a game: one of his old jerseys that he gave me when we first started dating and black leggings. I had considered spicing things up by painting Kai’s initials on my cheeks with blue face paint, but when I brought the idea up to him over dinner last week, he just said he knew a better method to brand me as his. I left it at that without inquiring further, even though I was curious by what, exactly, he had in mind.

“You look… hot,” I gulp, my eyes traveling down his long, toned torso. No matter how many times I’ve seen him shirtless after a practice or a game, or in only a towel after a shower, I’ll never get tired of seeing him half-naked. Or fully naked, at that.

“You look hot, too,” he murmurs into my hair, still embracing me tightly. “I just didn’t want to say that because I was trying to be gentlemanly.” Cupping my face with his large hands, he proceeds to kiss me, feverish and rough. He nips at my bottom lip and doesn’t even wait for me to open my mouth before invading it, battling my tongue with his. His ferocity gets my blood pumping and the pit of my stomach tingling, but it’s all wrong. I’m necessarily complaining, but this isn’t how he usually greets me. He typically welcomes me with a soft, delicate kiss before anything else. Is this because I haven’t congratulated him on his win yet?

“I’m so proud of you, Kai. You and the guys really deserve this,” I say sincerely, but he pretends like he doesn’t hear me, going in for another attack on my mouth. To that, I shrink a little and he catches on, sighing as he takes a step back, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. I notice that the ribbons in my hair are loose, so I quickly readjust them as I try to read Kai’s expression. He still looks… dissatisfied. Maybe some ego boosting would do the trick?

“Everyone’s raving about how you’re a tactical genius. How your skill and precision are unparalleled. How you’re on top and you haven’t even reached your peak yet,” I ramble, trying to recall every headline I’ve ever read in the news this past week. Oh, and also, you’ve got the cutest bum out of any football player in the history of football.

“Not everyone,” he growls in a dark voice, messing up his curly brown locks by snatching them with his hand. His face twists with irritation. “Right after the game, a reporter came up to me and asked me if I thought I finally paid back my hefty price tag.”

“And how did you respond?” I ask, curious. Usually he doesn’t get so riled up over post-game interviews, but perhaps his transfer fee is a touchy subject for him and he just never told me. In an attempt to calm him down a bit, I take his hand into mine and lead him to a section of the bench lined along the lockers. We sit so that we’re facing each other, and I weave my legs around his torso, nearly straddling him. But not quite.

“I think I said… ‘I don’t give a fuck of that. We just won the fucking Champions League’,” he says slowly, his nose scrunched up in concentration as he recalls his response.

I stifle a laugh. His cussing is not a regular occurrence, it’s not entirely uncommon either, but whenever he does curse, it catches me off guard. Maybe it has something to do with that pretty face of his, as if foul language shouldn’t be coming from it. “You’re right; you did just win the Champions League, so you shouldn’t be hard on yourself,” I say, lightly poking him in the bicep. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my stab at lighthearted reassurance, so I go for a different approach. Tough love. “Okay, fine. Chelsea may have paid a lot of money for you, but that’s because you’re worth it, Kai. You don’t have to prove your abilities to anyone––even though you already proved them tonight plus your whole career thus far. People are always going to have something negative to say, but you put in the work and it shows in every game. Don’t let anyone get to you, especially not a reporter; they’re just trying to get some dirt.” I’m not used to giving pep talks, so I’m not sure if I did it right.

I must’ve done something right because his frown is replaced with a slight smile. “Thank you, baby,” he says, pecking me on the cheek. One Kai’s best qualities is that not much gets to him; and if it does, it doesn’t take him long to get over it. Annoying interview question long forgotten, he traces patterns on my thigh and tells me, “The boys are going to a nightclub tonight to celebrate our win. Come with me.” To aid in his plea, he grabs both of my hands, squeezing them, his pale blue eyes gleaming with hope.

“A nightclub?” I repeat, making a sour face. “You know better than anyone that I don’t belong at a nightclub.” I want to suggest just a cozy night in, watching his favorite film of the Harry Potter series, Goblet of Fire, and cuddling, but I don’t want to take this celebratory night with his friends away from him.

“You belong with me, and it just so happens that tonight I’m being dragged to a nightclub,” he says. I don’t say anything, and his face falls, presumably because he recognizes his bid to get me to go is a lost cause.

“You go,” I encourage, trying to sound upbeat as I pat his thigh. “Have your fun.”

“Really?” he asks. “Are you sure?” He gives me a dubious look, one eyebrow severely cocked.

I squint at him quizzically. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looks me dead in the eyes. “Babe. Let’s not forget what happened the last time I went out for drinks with the team for Timo’s birthday. I came back home with a ripped shirt because a bunch of girls pounced on us, and you wouldn’t talk to me for a whole week. You didn’t believe me.”

“That’s because it’s an unbelievable story,” I mumble.

“You accused me of hooking up with another girl,” he reminds me, his mesmerizing eyes narrowing at me, causing my cheeks to heat up and my skin to crawl with guilt. Now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember that incident. Vividly. It happened around the beginning of our relationship, when I still didn’t know how serious Kai was about me, about us. Regardless, I should’ve known that Kai would never be unfaithful to me. That’s simply not who he is. He has never once given me an inkling of a doubt of his loyalty. I blame my foolish allegation on my insecurity over our blossoming relationship, but I’m long past that…

“You’re too friendly, Kai,” I sigh, ruffling his hair to make it seem more like a concern and less like an accusation. “It makes girls think they can have a chance with you.”

“Girls?” Kai scoffs, shaking his head in pure denial. How can someone so intelligent be such a dumb boy sometimes? “What girls? That happened one time, and it wasn’t only me who got jumped. The whole team did.” Like that makes the situation any better, Kai.

“I’m not dating the whole team! I’m dating you, and you’re only going to get bigger and I… I just want you all to myself,” I admit. My head falls, weighted by a vicious mix of embarrassment and shame.

“Well, I know something that’s big that you can have all to yourself,” he says coyly, with a self-righteous smirk.

“I’m serious, Kai,” I say, frowning at him in return. “You’re young, talented, attractive. Girls are going to be lining up for you, and soon I’ll just be chopped liver.”

“Chopped liver?” he hoots, obviously unfamiliar with the expression.

My frown deepens as I huff, “You’re going to forget all about me.”

“I think if anyone’s guilty of forgetting anything, it’s you. You’re already forgetting that I’m in love with you,” he coos, sliding closer to me, dusting my neck and collarbones with soft-lipped kisses.

“Get away from me. You’re all sweaty,” I complain––mostly so as to not give into his seduction techniques too easily––but it’s half-hearted.

“You’re about to be, too,” he growls, lifting me and dropping me on his lap. I can feel him harden underneath me, and I respond by rocking my body against his, inciting staggered, tense moans from the both of us at the same time. The sounds that come out of his mouth are music to my ears. With a hunger to hear more, I reach in between us, stroking his length through his thin shorts, loving how fully aroused he gets at my slight touch. His breathing quickens, but when I don’t hear anything from him, I look at him, witnessing his bottom lip in between his teeth, suppressing those sweet moans I so desperately want to hear him make.

Suddenly, he’s tugging at my leggings; he’s so aggressive that I’m afraid he’s going to rip them. After he shimmies them off, I kick them to the side, and Kai’s eyes ravage the bottom half of my body. I’m thankful I had the good foresight to wear lace panties instead of my go-to granny panties, but at this point they’re drenched. They have been ever since I walked in and saw Kai; just one look at him does unspeakable things to me. His ability to reduce me to a mere puddle with just his eyes is unnerving.

He removes my shirt and purses his lips when he sees that I’m not wearing a bra. My chest is ample-sized, but I can comfortably go without a bra––often doing just that––and it drives him mad. He says I shouldn’t go prancing around braless because I’ll be practically naked when ogling guys undress me with their eyes. I say that doesn’t make sense.

He yanks his shorts and boxers down in one swoop, and the heat between my legs intensifies. If his massive hands and long fingers were any indication of what he has to offer, the blanks fill themselves out––he’s glorious. I can’t help but gawk and admire him; Kai is perfect in every singular way. If I had no self-control, I’d lick every inch of his pale skin. I lower myself onto him and gasp with pleasure when just the tip enters me. Slowly, I bounce up and down on him, each time driving him deeper inside me until he fills me completely. My head rolls back as I continue the rhythmic movement, and I moan when he licks a stripe in the valley between my breasts. My fingers tangle themselves in his curly locks as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while tinkering with the other between his fingertips.

“Oh, Kai,” I whine, feeling the intolerable pressure building up in my stomach.

“That’s it, baby,” Kai purrs against my chest as I tighten around him. “Say my name. Just like that.”

“K-Kai––” I cry, quivering against his body; my vision is blurry and I’ve lost function in my legs. Kai’s taken over, his fingers digging into my hips, thrusting into me, hitting my most sensitive spot time after time. I’m on the verge of seeing stars when it all stops. Before my brain can process what’s happening, I’m balancing on all fours on the bench as Kai positions himself behind me, his erection rubbing against me. With one thrust, he buries himself inside me, reaching around to rub my clit in a slow circular motion. I was not prepared for that. The combination of sensations is enough to drive me over the edge, but what drives me even crazier is the heat as he presses his firm chest up against my back.

“Who do you belong to?” he demands in my ear, humming. I tune him out, focusing on getting my fix and nothing more. I can barely get his name out, what makes him think I can have a coherent conversation? “I don’t like being ignored,” he warns sharply.

My arms and legs are shaky, and the only thing keeping me from crumbling to the floor are his hands, holding me steady as he rolls his hips. “You,” I finally breathe.

“Dunno who that is,” he drawls, and I could swear he’s purposely applying more pressure to his accent just to mock me.

“You. Kai,” I hiss and close my eyes to try to block him out, but that only heightens my senses to everything he’s doing to me.

“Kai who? There are many Kais,” he says matter-of-factly. His fingers slow down around my sensitive area, and I’m afraid he’s going to withhold euphoria from me.

“Kai––fucking––Havertz,” I half moan, half gasp as his fingers pick up their pace and he slams into me, the final push that sends me soaring into bliss. I never cuss unless I have a really good reason for it and lashing my frustration out on the infuriating tease that is Kai Havertz is a good enough reason for me. However, he makes up for his devilish nature by understanding every nook and cranny of my body. On cloud nine, I ride out the high to the fullest extent before my body goes fully limp. I suck in a breath when he pulls out, only to feel the warm liquid on my back coming in spurts.

“Fuck,” he moans, and I just wish I could watch him as he comes undone. I think it’s hot when he releases his load on me––I like it best when he does it on my chest. So I can marvel at him with his sweat-matted hair, throbbing Adam’s apple, and fluttering eyelids. He wipes my back with his/my jersey and pulls me into his lap.

“The way you moan my name, I’ll never be able to forget you,” he sighs, nibbling on my neck.

“How romantic,” I tease. But really, I’d be content calling out only his name for the rest of my life. Kai fucking Havertz.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, rising to his feet cheerfully. His fingers lace in mine as he starts for the shower stalls. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as my feet pad excitedly across the tile floor alongside him. Another great quality about Kai: his stamina is unmatched, on and off the football field.

*a/n: if you do by chance read this, I’d love to know what you think of it!

#kai havertz #kai havertz imagine #kai havertz one shot #kai havertz fanfic #football fanfiction #kai havertz fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #chelsea fc #football fanfic #football blurb #Kai havertz smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #imagine #drabble

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

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Build-A-Bear

Part One

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: I’ve written a decent portion of this but know I won’t keep writing it or post it unless I hold myself accountable and get it out there in the first place 🙈 I haven’t written much for Marvel yet but I’ve read plenty and have written for other fandoms in the past (not to mention the writing degree on my wall lol). I’ll try to post every 2-3 days to keep this moving! And if you like it and want to, buy me a coffee!

No one knew Tony Stark had a daughter. No one but Tony Stark and his daughter. Well, and her step-mom Pepper. And her godfather Rhodey. And her uncle-not-uncle Happy. But no one in their everyday lives knew. She was given her mother’s maiden name and kept a secret, even when she turned 17 and moved to a small apartment near NYU’s campus (with Happy stationed right next door, of course) to start life as a truly normal adult, or as close to normal as an undercover Stark could be. When she graduated with her PhDs in robotics and electrical engineering at 25 — proving brains really do run in the family — she moved into her own apartment in Manhattan, funded by her father under the pseudonym “Michael Myers.” Subtlety was never his strong suit.

Fortunately for you, growing up without the Stark name let you live a relatively normal life. It also allowed you to apply for a position within Stark Industries without being ushered past any red tape because of who your father is. Outside of the financial advantage you had, you worked for your spot in a STEM career. You suffered through every man in your field belittling your work despite knowing less than you. You dealt with the constant interruptions and “well, actually” because of your gender. You powered through late nights and early mornings when your mind was flowing too smoothly to quit.

The last thing you wanted to do was have all that work disregarded because you shared a name with genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. So you filled out the application, sent in your resume and cover letter, and attached three letters of recommendation from your professors. You went through hours of interviews, background checks (conveniently redacting your father’s name), and polygraph tests until that offer letter showed up in your email. You even had to sign the Non-Disclosure Agreements that would bar you from discussing *anything* work-related with anyone outside of your department.

You spent your first year in the weapons analysis department, evaluating alien weaponry and determining how it worked and how to disable it. You had your fair share of mishaps, of course. Holes blasted into walls, fried robot dummies, even burnt animal carcasses. By the end of your first year, your supervisor sent a commendation and proposal for you for an undisclosed promotion. After Pepper Potts “thoroughly examined your resume, cover letter, and accomplishments during your tenure with Stark Industries,” as the letter read, you were awarded a position working on the Avengers’ weapons as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist. You’d never see a fight in-person, but you were assigned to work on advancements and post-battle repairs for everyone, from the Winter Soldier’s arm to the Falcon’s wings to Vision’s... everything. The only heroes you wouldn’t work on were Iron Man and War Machine (those were your dad’s territory) and Spider-Man.

On your first day in your new position, the one and only Pepper Potts showed you to your new lab on the 47th floor. It took all your willpower to look your step-mother in the eye and say, “Wow, Miss Potts. This is amazing. It’s such an honor to meet you,” with a straight face to convince any passerby that you had no outside affiliation with her. Even if her eyes stayed steady on you, you could see her mentally rolling them.

Once you were alone behind the doors of the elevator, conversation changed course.

“You’re going to be sharing a lab with someone else,” Pepper said.

“Sweet. As long as they’re competent, that’s fine by me,” you shrugged. Part of earning your degrees was learning to share a workspace with others, even those who bumbled and fumbled with no idea what they were doing. You’d had more hair singed by nearby explosions than you’d like to admit.

“He’s still in college so he’s not here as often as the others. Most of his work will be on Spider-Man’s gadgets and suit, but you can use him for any help you need.”

Walking past the familiar faces of Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho in their respective labs, Pepper ushered you into your lab, where you were met by your father and put on the same excited facade you did with Pepper.

“Oh my god, you’re Tony Stark! This is incredible! It’s such an honor to meet you, sir!”

He shook his head at you and reluctantly accepted your outstretched hand. Oh, the jokes you’d be making at family dinners.

“Yeah, anyway, this is your new lab, Miss [Y/L/N]. Make yourself at home. This lab rat over here is mister Parker. If you have any questions, he can at least bullshit an answer for you.”

The young man on the other side of the lab perked up at the sound of his name. He tugged the goggles off his face and set down his soldering rod to rush over to you.

“Hi. Hi, I’m Peter,” he said, reaching his hand out to you.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you, lab partner.”

He looked to be a bit younger than you and at least relatively smart, if the MIT sweatshirt peeking out from under his lab coat said anything. If your dad gave him an internship like this, you knew you shouldn’t question it. He had to be a genius.

The kid just smiled at you, continuing to shake your hand past what most would deem socially acceptable.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony said, pushing on your joined hands to separate you two. “Mister Parker might be in and out of the lab from time to time. He joins the Avengers on the occasional recon mission for immediate repairs but since he’s on break from classes, you’ll see him more often than not. Play nice.”

When he noticed you surreptitiously looking Peter up and down, he added, “Remember, no fraternizing with coworkers.” He pointed a finger directly at you before he spun and pointed to your fellow lab mate, realizing he should warn Peter too to save face.

“All the blueprints you need for the Tin Man’s arm are in the system. We’ll have you start on that and see what you can do about minimizing the sound that thing makes. Any other questions, give Pep a call.”

“Thank you, mister Stark. I really do appreciate everything,” you said genuinely.

“Yeah, well… don’t let me down,” he replied, patting you on the shoulder on his way out. Pepper followed close behind, leaving you alone with Peter Parker.

“So Peter,” you started, sliding onto the lab chair next to where he remained standing, “tell me about yourself.”

“Uh… what do you want to know?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“How old are you?” you asked immediately.

“I’m 21.”

Only four years younger than you. So you’d probably get along just fine.

“I assume you’re at MIT?” He nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Biomolecular and mechanical engineering.” He said it so casually, you’d think he was talking about the last song he heard on the radio.

“Damn,” you responded, eyes wide. “I thought robotics and electrical engineering was wild but fuck, that sounds like hell.”

He laughed and nodded, letting a bit of the tension in his shoulders fall. “Yeah, it’s not easy. But it’s worth it.”

He shot you a small smile before gesturing back at his project. “I should probably get back to work and let you get started.”

For the rest of the day, you familiarized yourself with the Winter Soldier’s arm to figure out how to… turn the volume down? You assumed it was the gears inside causing the noise, but part of you wanted to outfit an audio jack and speaker just to fuck with your dad.

You and Peter worked in relative silence, aside from the playlist he had quietly playing through the lab sound system. When lunch rolled around, however, you finally spoke up.

“Hey Peter,” you called, his eyes flicking from the chemical beakers in front of him up to you. “First of all, what are you doing?”

“Um, it’s Spider-Man’s web fluid. Just trying to find more durable combinations.”

“Interesting.” As much as you wanted to touch the stringy substance, you knew better than to fiddle with someone else’s lab work. “Okay so second thing, in my last position, I’d just order food and have it brought to my floor but now that I’m on an exclusive floor, what do you do for lunch?”

“Oh, there are a couple security guys who have clearance to come into this floor. They just can’t get into any rooms so you’d have to meet them at the elevator. But I usually find something in the kitchen down the hall.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks!” you said as you made your way out the door. Before you could fully exit, you turned back to see if Peter wanted you to grab anything. Once he promised he’d take his own break ‘once I get this one thing figured out,’ you continued to make your way to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to the doorway, you could hear three voices speaking over each other. They didn’t sound angry, but they were definitely arguing. You opened the door anyway and almost immediately froze in your tracks. The Falcon stood with one hand on his own head and one on the Winter Soldier’s head while Captain America rolled his eyes before those same eyes landed on you, along with the rest of the room.

“Perfect,” Sam started. “Hey new girl, between the three of us,” he said, pointing to himself, the Soldier, and the Captain, “who has the best hair?”

“First of all, my name is [Y/N]. Second,” you continued, making your way past them to the fridge you hoped your dad kept stocked with goodies, “that’s an unfair question.”

You grabbed a soda and popped it open before turning back to the three men. “Your hair suits each of you. Cap wouldn’t look good with Winter Soldier hair and Falcon wouldn’t look good with Cap’s hair.” You took a few steps closer, leaning against the island counter between you and eyeing each of them. Your eyes settled on the Winter Soldier, unashamedly flitting across his face and admiring the sharpness of his features. “You,” pointing at him, “could probably pull off either of their looks, though.”

Bucky smirked at you, but his rosy cheeks gave away a hint of embarrassment at your compliment. Steve and Sam, on the other hand, weren’t taking it quite as gracefully.

“What?!” Sam shouted. “Okay, now I know you’re lying. I could pull off Cap’s hair for sure.”

“You know, I think shaggy hair would really suit me,” Cap said, only half sarcastically.

You giggled to yourself as the three of them started talking over each other again, all dead set on their own hair being the best of them and positive they could pull off the others’ looks. While they bickered, you searched the pantry until you found a snack to at least get you through the remainder of the day.

“Alright boys, it’s been fun but I have work to do,” you said as you walked past them again. “Actually, wait. Bucky — can I call you Bucky?” He nodded even though you continued anyway. “If you could stop by lab six today, I’d love to check out your arm in person. The digital renderings aren’t quite the same.”

“Uh, okay. Sure. I’ll find you,” he said quietly.

“Sweet, thanks!” And with that, you skedaddled back to your lab.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x Stark!reader #Stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes series #bucky x Stark!reader

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Be yourself and that will be enough

(A/N): This is inspired by a) Atypical and b) by my sister who is so done with me and my facts.

Summary: Your Uncle Morgan tells you what true friends mean.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: One swear word, angst, but it’s gonna end fluffy

✨Masterlist✨

____________________________

“Hey Wonder Baby, don’t you have school today?” Morgan wonders as he sees his best friend’s daughter sitting at his desk.

“I did, but my last period was cancelled. The teacher got the flu apparently. Also I need your help on one of the topics in my health class. Dad knows pretty much nothing about physical education except for the effects of it. But I need to create a whole work-out. Can you help me with this, Uncle Derek?” (Y/N) puts on her best puppy dog face.

“Of course, Wonder Baby. All those doors don’t kick themselves down, you need a lot of strength for it”, Morgan agrees and ruffles her hair.

“Hey!” After fixing her hair, the teenager works on getting her pen and paper out. For that she nearly has to dump her whole back pack out on her godfather’s desk.

“Why do you have so much stuff with you?” Derek snatches one of the knick knacks. Looking at what he has in his hands, (Y/N) seems like she remembers something.

“There it is! I thought I lost it! That’s a fidget cube, my friends got it for me, because I click my pens all the time and it makes them go crazy. I can play with that without making too much noise. Try it, it’s really calming.”

“And what are those?” He sees a little plastic bag with three cards inside. Before the girl can demonstrate he takes them out, reading the description on them out loud.

“Fun Fact/Stats card. You have to give one up, whenever you tell a fun fact/statistic. (Y/N) what is it?”

Ashamed she looks anywhere but his face. “Uh, you know how dad always goes around, pepping facts and useless knowledge in a conversation? I do the same and my friends are annoyed by this. To keep it at a minimum they made me these cards, which are pretty much self explanatory. I’m not allowed to tell more than three per day. Every time I tell them one, I have to give them a card. Maybe you can do the same for dad, it’s pretty effective.”

“Baby girl, this isn’t right. I know we make fun of your dad for his facts, but we do it in a loving way. We just mean to tease him, not hurt him. His facts helped us more often than not. You should be able to tell people your knowledge. You should be proud of it, not everybody does know as much as you do, especially at your age. When your friends are annoyed by something that is part of you and your personality, then they are not your real friends, as hard as this may sound.” This seems to break the dam. (Y/N) breaks down in tears.

Acting quickly, the agent pulls her in for a hug, trying to shush her. His heart hurts seeing his god daughter, a kid he watched growing up becoming a beautiful teenager, in tears hiccuping and struggling to get a proper breath in.

“You-you don’t know how d-difficult it is to find someone who is willing to put up with me. I have to t-take every chance I get of having a friend, even when it means to hold myself back with them. It is worse to be alone, Derek.” He didn’t know until now that words can hurt so much. But here he sits, with a crying girl in his arms, who just desperately tries to fit in.

“Sugar plum, nobody has to put up with anyone. A friend genuinely enjoys your presence, like you enjoy theirs. I don’t know how hard it is for you, but changing your good traits for somebody, who isn’t worth your time, hurts me. I love to hear your fun facts as much as I love you. It is what makes you you. It makes you different, a good different. Just because some people don’t know how to handle real smarts, you shouldn’t feel like a burden. It’s their loss, understood Baby?” While wiping the tears with her sleeve away, she nods.

“Good, now give me these cards, you won’t need them anymore. Either these people learn to love you for being you or they can piss off. You are wonderful just the way you are.”

After Morgan’s well needed pep talk, both of them start working on (Y/N)’s homework. They tease each other, sometimes poking the other ones side with a pen or jokes about something stupid. But also the laughs about little unimportant things are so much needed by the girl.

When Spencer enters the bullpen, the first thing he hears is his daughter’s loud laughing. For him it’s like Bethoven plays the most beautiful melody ever composed in history. A smile graces his features, because to the doctor it feels like an eternity when he last heard these sounds.

Then he spots (Y/N) with Derek, having a lightsaber fight with several into each other stacked pens. They look pretty fragile and it is clear to him that they will fall apart at any second.

“Hey you two, what are you doing here?” Reid asks as he puts his satchel down at his desk.

“Dad! I have to fight Uncle Derek! Else the dark side will win and rule over the universe”, the teenager explains in such a serious manner.

“Well, then I hope you are going to win, my little Skywalker” Spencer encourages her, breaking out the nickname he had for her when she was little.

After the fight has ended (with the good side restoring the universe’s balance), (Y/N) skips happily in her Aunt Penny’s office to get one of her baked goods. Or moreover eating a tin’s contents that is just reserved for her.

Wordlessly Morgan leans against Spencer’s desk, who finishes some paperwork. When he looks up questiongly, Derek throws the little plastic back on top of the papers.

“What is this?” The doctor wonders, but doesn’t get an answer. His friend just motiones to the object. Spencer opens it, takes a card and reads over it several times. Finally all the puzzle pieces in his head click together. (Y/N)’s absent enthusiasm for her and his facts, her bubbly personality missing and her getting shorter with her words every day.

Looking back up at his colleague, Reid thanks him with deep sincerity. Both of them know that the father will do anything to help his daughter.

Later the little family sits at the kitchen table in their small but cozy apartment, talking about their day over the together cooked dinner.

“Did you know that the command ‘Women and children first!’ were interpreted differently on the Titanic? On the one side the man in charge let at first women and children enter the lifeboats and men were allowed to fill in the remaining seats. On the other side were only women and children in them allowed, so over 200 seats were left open when they hit the water”, (Y/N) tells her father with a long missed sparkle in her eyes. Spencer can’t help but smile at it, just being happy to see his favorite girl happy again.

“Oh and Dad? I was thinking about switching schools. You once talked about this school for gifted children? Maybe we can look into this further? I feel like I need a change.”

Relief washes over Spencer. He wanted her for the longest of times to switch schools to have her use her full potential and meet kids who are more like her.

“Of course, Sweetheart. Anything you want.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert

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warmau · 3 years

Text

☆ko-fi au: lovestruck!au x dogwalker!au yanan find other pentagon aus: here

yanan looks at the little pomeranian sitting on top of the coffee table in your living room

they have their tongue out and the little foxy face betrays a head full of no thoughts at all

"hello!"

yanan smiles cheerily and looks down at the app that lists the information of your pet, including their name

the dog walking business he works for is on another level. long gone are the paper flyers stuck to trees.

"hello - donut."

at the sound of their name, donut perks up and stands on the little nubs of their legs

it hops off the table and trots over to him - barely even reaching yanan's ankle

for someone his size, yanan adores little lap dogs - he leans down to scoop donut up in his hands

"are you ready for a walk?"

donut, regardless of only knowing yanan for a grand total of three minutes, licks his cheek and yaps in the affirmative

with a chuckle, yanan starts to look for where you mentioned you'd left the collar and leash

right on one of the shelves, he pulls donuts leash down and briefly looks at the framed photo beside it

donut is sitting in someone's lap

yanan looks at the person, who he assumes is you, and nearly forgets that he's holding donut in his arms

the only reason he doesn't drop donut is because the pup has managed to tuck its nose into yanan's shoulder

you are smiling in the photo - sitting under a big beach umbrella

he's walked a lot of peoples dogs, he's been in a lot of peoples homes, and he's seen a lot of family photos

none of them have ever made him stop short of a breath

donut nuzzles under his chin suddenly and yanan snaps back into reality

he mumbles into the little dogs head

"how lucky are you to have such a pretty owner?"

yanan becomes donut's designated walker.

you adore him - even though you have never seen or met him.

you are usually away at work when you request donut be walked, and therefore you haven't had any face to face contact with yanan

his profile picture on the app is a smiling puppy, so you kind of just imagine him as one

a big smiley pup walking your small smiley puppy

donut always seems happy when you come home after he walks with yanan earlier, yanan leaves treats in little bags along with notes after the walks too

you get regularly updated photos of donut on park benches and curiously sniffing other dogs on the street

the only snippet of yanan is his hand in a photo petting the top of donut's small head - his palm nearly dwarfing your dog

part of you thinks he must be like this with everyone - his rating on the app is perfect and everyone comments that he's hard to book

but your requests for donut always get accepted

yanan....well, he just harbors secretly that one day he will get to meet you

because from what he knows about you - which is the photo that you always set donut's leash by

and the affectionate and loving way donut acts

he thinks he can only imagine you in waves of stars and softness

dogs mimic their owners, and donut is nothing short of kind and affectionate

yanan also knows what you look like and he'd never in a million years think he'd see someone so very much his type - in a photo nonetheless

you and yanan pass each other by only in texts and in-app ratings. in the tips you leave for him walking donut and the notes he writes about how much he likes looking after your dog

yanan embarrassingly picks donut up while he's riding the elevator up to your apartment to drop him off and asks

"would your owner like me?"

donut's tail wags in response and yanan tilts his head

"so you think they would?"

donut gives another lazy blink and a small yap

"im crazy. talking to a dog."

yanan sets him down just as the elevator opens

another resident of the building, your neighbor gets all flushed as they pass him by

yanan gives a polite greeting as he fishes your spare from under the mat to let donut back in

you, busy at work, get a sudden text from your neighor

hey - your dogwalker is hot, is he single?

you hover your keys over your work computer and blink

yanan is hot?

you text back before anyone else in the office can see

really? i don't know, i've never seen him.

the reply is almost instant: oh my god. you NEED TO.

it must be luck, or actually unluck, that you end up getting sick the next week

you can't go to work but you can't make the long mid-afternoon walk you usually take your dog on so you request yanan for the job

you get an immediate confirmation and when you hear the door unlock fifteen minutes past noon

you haul your tired body out of your blankets and cough syrup as donut hops in front of you

slipping on a mask and a hoodie - you forget that you must look a mess - when you step into the living room to meet yanan for the first time

and

your neighbor hit the nail on the head. yanan, standing tall and lean in the doorway, is hot.

his black hair is pulled back by a jogging headband, his smile is wide and pretty and his eyes sparkle when they see donut

and in your dumbstruck awe, he looks up to see you

yanan also goes still. mostly because he did not know you were here, you hadn't mentioned you'd be home in the request

and beside the obvious fact that you're sick, due to the slight swelling under your eyes and mask

yanan hears alarm bells ring in his head: oh god they're so cute in person oh god what should i say to not make a fool of myself

"im here for donut!"

he manages - still functioning enough to speak

"oh not for me?"

it's a bad attempt at a joke, but your brain is fried from the flu and the hot guy in your apartment

yanan thinks he might die - but he manages to laugh slightly

"no, you only paid for donut - walks with me are extra."

you try to laugh too, but a cough comes out instead

you excuse yourself and yanan is left standing there with what could be hearts floating above his head if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't in a comic strip

the entire time yanan and donut are out, you think about how embarrassing that was

you didn't know what to expect - definitely not this level of attractiveness and of course i had to go and make a corny joke!

yanan is thinking about it too - almost walking straight into an oncoming cyclist as donut tangles their leash around their legs

what should i have said? they're cuter in person than the photo even with their face hidden! would it be weird to ask someone sick out on a date?

when it's time to bring donut home - yanan pep talks himself in front of your door

he picks donut up and off the floor - lifting him up and going

"im going to impress your owner, right - they'll like me for sure!"

donut yaps and yanan groans

"you're right. why would they like me - they probably already have a boyfriend, donut tell me does your owner have a boyfriend?"

he brings donut nose to nose with him and the pom just keeps wagging their tail

"don't hide it from me donut - we're friends - is your owner single, i don't want to ask someone out who is taken."

donut sticks their little pink tongue out to give yanan's a kiss

"ah - no, focus donut! does your owner have a boy-"

"i don't"

yanan twirls around, he almost tumbles over in the hallway as he sees you in the door

you've got your mask on but you look a little better after taking your medicine

"d-did you hear everything"

you try not to laugh because you're scared it'll come out as another cough

"yes...the walls in this building are thin."

yanan feels his throat go dry with embarrassment, he sets donut down who goes speeding into your apartment with the leash trailing behind

"sorry - i must seem like such a freak-"

"i don't think so. i like it that you're asking my dog for intel on me, have to love a man who trusts a dog."

yanan chuckles, scratching the back of his neck

"so .... does that mean you would ever consider ... going out with me some time?"

you shrug playfully

"well, you'd have to give me a week or two to get better but - i think we can arrange something."

you give him a teasing tilt of your head as yanan tries not to flush pink

"do i have to book dates with you through the app too - i don't want to get in the way of any of your other dogwalking duties."

yanan's eyes turn pretty when he smiles in response

"nope - i'll make sure my schedule puts you and donut first for whenever you're ready."

donut yaps from somewhere inside, knocking over what you're sure is a book or two in an excited post walk frenzy

you look over your shoulder than back at yanan

"so im guessing you're ok with me bringing donut on the date too?"

donut appears between your legs, looking at yanan with big brown eyes

yanan leans down to give them a scratch behind the ears

"of course - wouldn't be right without him."

you say your goodbyes and yanan says he'll be back for tomorrow's walk. when you close the door you feel all giddy, maybe half from the nyquil but also because of the little exchange

donut nips at your ankle and you look down, he yaps and you grin

"no no - even if i get a boyfriend, you're still my first love."

#lovestruck au #yanan au #pentagon au #yanan scenaerios #pentagon scenarios #yanan imagines #pentangon imagines #yanan #pentagon #sfw #dogs/#ko fi commissions

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

Text

Insecure Thicc!Reader

Pairings: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: Some spicy bits, but not too crazy, a little crude, kinda implied fem! in some bits, but you can just skip over those points if ya want

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi

Author’s Note:

Hello! This is the first time I’ve written for Dabi so I hope his turned out ok! As a thicc girl myself, I kinda poured my heart out a bit for this request. I hope you enjoy these little headcanons (I kinda went crazy oop—)!

If you’re feeling insecure, remember that you’re beautiful, no matter what other people say! I’m still on my own journey of self-love, but I hope that this can bring a bit of comfort to anyone who is anywhere on that road.

I know that it says Mirio, but I don't write for him so I contacted the requester and they swapped him out for Dabi.

I love you guys! Hope you like it!

-Sugar

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bakugou:

My mans Bakugou

He can appreciate some nice booty

I'm just going to jump straight to cuddling here because that's what I feel like doing

In public, Bakugou isn't all that affectionate

I am by no means saying he wouldn't gladly flaunt your relationship and yell about how wonderful and attractive his s/o is, but for the most part he likes to keep it between you two

But during down time, when there's nothing to do and all evening to do it, he wants you in his lap

SNUGGLING

He a stronk boi, you're sitting on his lap whether you like it or not

You are his human teddy bear, and you're going to have a hard time getting him to let you go

He wants to touch you all over and let his hands sink into your soft, plush body

Cheeks? Perfect for kissing and squeezing between his fingers

Your chest? He likes to hold you in his hands and test the weight of your boobs. They're so nice and soft and squeezable

Tummy? Bakugou's all over giving you soft, slow kisses over your skin, sucking a little into his mouth and between his teeth to nibble on

Thighs? He's touching on them constantly. If ever he's feeling possessive over you, his hands are going to fly to your legs and give them a solid squeeze to remind you you're his

Butt? Like I said, he loves it. He likes smacking it at every opportunity. Watching the resulting jiggle is the most satisfying and enticing thing to him

He likes to hold you at night, either his hands firmly clasping those lower cheeks or simply having it pressed into him. As much as he can get, he'll take

…

Now, if he ever catches you saying something bad about yourself, you're done for

You say it when you're home alone together? He's going to prove to you how beautiful and valuable you are through any methods he can think of

Lecture consisting mostly of him yelling about how much he loves you? Check

Tackling you in an aggressive hug and pinning you to the bed only to point out and gently kiss everything you dislike about yourself, telling you how much he loves it? Check

There's another thing I could mention he'd do, but my mom might read this, so I don't want to get into it, buuutt you can fill it in yourself 👀—

Say something bad out in public? He's going to give you a death glare and pull you aside as soon as he can to tell you to stop

If someone makes a nasty comment about you, they got a big storm comin

Let's just say that, after an extensive apology from the person, you probably won't see them again for weeks

Bakugou knows how to get to people

…

Katsuki doesn't care about what you look like, as long as you're happy and healthy

He values how you carry yourself and how you treat him. Something as superfluous as appearance isn’t on his mind when choosing and loving a partner

He's a good person to vent to as well. It may not seem like he’s listening sometimes, but he his. His insight is truly outstanding. There's something about him where, when he wants to, he always knows the right thing to say

13/10 loves you just the way you are and knows you're beautiful. Would not hesitate bitch to throw hands to anyone who says otherwise

____________

Kirishima:

Idk if this is me just self projecting onto him or whatever, but high key I think Kirishima could have a thing for thicc people

Nothing against our skinny queens and kings! He'd love you either way

But like, I can 100% see it

So he honestly gets kinda offended when he realizes you're insecure about your body

He understands why you feel this way—he's not blind to the fact that you're a little bigger than some other people

What really gets him is why you put so much pressure on yourself to look a certain way. To him, you're the most beautiful wonderful person in his world. Why would you be so negative towards yourself?

He knows how it feels to be insecure, especially with appearance

If you want to change yourself, he's 100% supportive. Mans is literally the most perfect gym buddy and would love to be by your side on your journey of self improvement

If you're not interested in changing your appearance, whether it be simply just for now or even never, guess what? He's 100% supportive!

I've seen this everywhere, and if you're also a regular in this niche of fanfic, I'm sure you have too, but Kiri is the biggest hype man

New outfit? He's all over telling you how good you look. Flaunt it, babes!

New makeup look? Amazing! Beautiful!

Did something different with your hair? Yesyesyesyesyes

And he's completely genuine in his praise as well. It's not manly to be fake about your thoughts and beliefs, and he knows for a fact that you're beautiful, just the way you are. Confidence goes perfectly with any look!

…

When it comes to cuddling, he's all over you

He'll respect it if you're uncomfortable being touched in some places, but what he wants most is to be as handsy with you as possible

He just wants to run his hands over every surface of your body. Nothing suggestive about it (unless you're in the mood! 😉), he just wants to feel you

Boob pillow? That's all his. It's like there's one magnet in your chest and another in the side of his head. They're just so soft and plush and squishy?? To die for! Even if your chest is comparatively small, he's still on you. You can't stop him

When his head isn't planted on your chest, it's settled on your belly. He likes the warmth against his cheek and finds every aspect of it cute

Rolls? Adorable! Stretch marks? Beautiful! Hair? Pretty!

11/10 you're getting tummy kithes and little teasing tickles every night you spend together

He loves your thighs. Being a little grabby with them is totally his thing

Yet another place to leave kisses. Maybe even love bites too `O.O`

Great place for him to take little naps. Literally I cannot stress enough how comfortable he finds you, immersed in your scent, cheek comfortably resting on the tops of your legs, your fingers carding through his soft red hair. You are literally Heaven on Earth to him

Insecure about your arms? He loves them. They lead to you, and give him the best cuddles and hugs ever in the whole wide world. He'll kiss them all the way up and down until you admit they're not so bad

That goes for everything though. If he catches you talking bad about yourself or your body, he will tackle you and start kissing you all over until you admit how beautiful you are

KISSES ON YOUR CHEEKS. CHUBBY CHEEKS ARE VERY ADORABLE AND COMPLETELY FREE KISSING REAL ESTATE

He won't hesitate to carry you around or let you sit on his lap. He's a hero (or even just training to be a hero). He's super strong and manly, and besides, what else are those muscles for? Punching bad guys? Nah, he's more interested in holding his favorite person in the world (oop, that's you!)

Doesn't matter how heavy you are (I'm also talking to all yee who are 200lbs+. I see you. He's got you), he can pick you up. Carrying around his s/o is 100% mandatory and you can't say no (well, I mean, you can but like, only if you truly mean it)

Any days you feel down on yourself, he can be a little more serious

He's a great listener and will hear every word you have to say without interrupting, even though a part of him wants to interject any time you may try to call yourself ugly or unattractive

Once you've vented everything out, he'll pull you into his arms and let you settle on his lap. Then he'll give you the hype/pep talk you need

Anything you don't like about yourself, he'll go on a whole rant about how much he loves it. It's not a flaw, it's just a part of who you are. And because it's a part of you, Kirishima is going to love it, no matter how much resentment you may feel towards it

He's a big hugger, so he wants to have you as close to him as he can. It helps him feel like he's making you feel better

…

Heaven forbid someone tries to give you trouble for how you look

He won't react as explosively as Bakugou, but they still better be praying

Kirishima's going to give them a good long talk about treating others with respect and being manly. He's not leaving until they apologize

All in all, Kirishima will forever love you for who you are. He doesn't care about your body shape or size. As long as you're healthy and happy and being your best self, he's going to be all for you

____________

Dabi:

So this guy is not having ya insecure BS

He doesn't see any problem with the way you look

He really grows to like your body even more than he expected over the course of the relationship

He likes how much more of you he has to grab and kiss and smack (affectionately)

He's pretty open with PDA

He likes grabbing your ass where everyone can see and giving you a nice squeeze just to let you and everyone else know you're his

He's into making out with you behind the bar, just waiting for someone to walk in on you

Dabi isn't big on being soft in public, but behind closed doors, you'd find him giving softer kisses and lighter touches

Initially isn't big on cuddling but opens up to it more as he finds how soft and huggable you are

You can bet you're sitting on his lap whenever you can, whether it's alone together in your room or even during a meeting; this man has no shame (not that he should be)

When you open up to him about your insecurities, he'll be a little upset

He sees nothing wrong with you at all, so why is your body something to be upset over? If anything, he's more attracted to you like this

He has a bit of a hard time finding himself attractive due to his burns (he's so wrong tho), so in that sense, he can somewhat understand

Decides to make a bit of a pact with you to stop being so insecure about yourselves and making a big deal out of appearances

You both love each other for who you are, and that's what's important

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Taglist: @a-happy-otter @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

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myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants · 3 years

Note

Such a pretty event!!! May I have a Red Lily with Denki, please?

I am SO SORRY for taking forever to finish this. Clearly I have no chill and it is a tiny bit longer than I thought it would be. I hope you like this!

Red Lily (Passion) with Denki

Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, sexual tension, making out, mention of a b0ner

WC: 4.4k words

Denki still couldn’t believe his luck, here he was, with you, working on his quirk. He didn’t think much of it when he was sitting in the sitting area of the 3A dorms off handedly asking if anyone wanted to spar.

He got a look of annoyance from Bakugo, confusion from Kirishima and amusement from Mina and Sero. A sound of someone running up behind him had him turning his head to you clapping and excitedly jumping up and down.

“Oh, oh oh! Umm I would actually LOVE-” You see the looks on the other people’s faces and clear your throat, before continuing. “I wouldn’t mind helping you out Kaminari, if you still want to that is…” You looked down at the ground, playing with the hem of your shirt too nervous to look him in the eye.

Denki is still staring at you, his mouth wide open. You want to practice with him? The girl he’s been pining over since you stood up to that 2B prick saying that he isn’t worth the powerful quirk he has. He will never forget the look on your face as you yelled….

“How dare you! Kaminari works just as hard as everyone else! He is talented and strong, and you are weak for saying bullshit like that!” You are fuming, cheeks red fists balled at your sides, you were at least several inches shorter than the jackass and yet you seemed to tower over him.

After he stomps away red faced you turn to the rest of the class with rage in your eyes before blinking and looking away shyly. “I um... he deserved it.” You back to your seat, no one really knowing what to say. Denki can see admiration in most people’s faces, even Bakugo’s. When you sit down at your seat and stare at your desk Denki doesn’t realize he is staring until Mina throws a note at him.

You look like a lovestruck fish! Close your mouth!

Denki feels a thump to the back of his head. “Fuckin Ow! What the hell?” He turns and sees Bakugo with a glare on his face and a closed book in his hand.

“You haven’t answered her question dumbass!” Bakugo glances at you and goes back to his book.

Rubbing the back of his head he turns and sees you still nervously standing in front of him.

Shit

“Yes! I mean, umm yeah I’m down for that.” He feels Kirishima kick his leg and flinches. “Thank you! I’ll meet you outside in 20?”

Your head shoots up, your eyes wide and shining. “Okay! Yeah! I’ll see you in a bit!” You turn away and skip to the stairs a big smile on your face. You are out of sight of the group when Kirishima claps Denki on the back.

“You almost blew it there man! Good thing Bakugo helped you out.”

“Oi! I did not help him out! I was helping myself out by getting rid of sparky and L/N for at least an hour.” Bakugo doesn’t even look up from his book as he punches Kirishima.

“Of course, BakuBro! Whatever you say!” Kirishima shoots a knowing smile to Mina and Sero, none of them really believing the explosive blondes excuse.

Mina hops up and sits next to Denki. “Soooo! Looks like your gonna have some alone time with L/N! Are you finally gonna confess to her?”

His face goes red, simultaneously imagining you accepting his confession or rejecting it. “I-I-I I don’t know about that. She looked like she really wanted to spar… I don’t want to make it weird.”

“If you don’t I will.” Denki’s head shoots up and he looks at his friends, all four of them pointedly looking away from him. “I’m sorry what!? Mina?”

“What?! She’s amazing and smart and sweet. I like people Kaminari, doesn’t matter how they identify.”

“Kirishima?”

“Uh, Haha yeah dude she’s like super manly and you remember when she helped us out with English last year after Bakugo gave up? Not that I like her as much as you but if you don’t make a move….” Kirishima shrugs his shoulders.

“Then get out of the way you’re holding up the line.” Sero leans back on the couch, crossing his arms, a smile on his face.

Denki coughs and wearily turns to Bakugo. “You too Bakugo?”

Bakugo looks up and stares him down with piercing red eyes. “I’m not a liar fuckin dumbass, stop being a pussy and ask her.” He looks back down at his book, a slight blush on the tips of his ears.

Everyone decides to ignore it in favor of staying alive, Denki gets up and heads to his dorm room to change, Sero and Kirishima in tow.

When you get to your floor you beeline for Jirous’ room, needing to talk to the cool-headed girl before getting changed.

You bust into the room without knocking, causing Jirou and her girlfriend of 2 years Momo to split apart from each other, lips glossy and faces red. You shut the door behind you and sit in the bed, pushing their feet aside.

“You are not going to believe what just happened!” You jump back up and start pacing.

“You just barged into my room without knocking and interrupted my private time with my girlfriend… again?” Jirou lays down on the bed with a huff, sending an annoyed look to Momo.

Momo knows you don’t do it on purpose and decides to take pity on you, grabbing Jirous hand she turns to look at your pacing form. “What is going on L/N?”

“I’m going to be sparring with Kaminari!!!” You stop and look at your two friends, stopping your pacing but wringing your hands, suddenly nervous. “Oh god, I’m going to be sparring with Kaminari! What if I embarrass myself? What if I knock him out or give him a bloody nose! What if I fart?!”

You sit down on a desk chair and put your head in your hands, suddenly regretting speaking up when you heard him ask for a sparring partner.

“For the love of- “Jirou sits up to yell at you but Momo interrupts.

“N/N, it’s gonna be fine! We have handled numerous villain attacks and being in a class with not only Bakugo but Mineta as well. I promise you can handle it.” She sits up and leans over to pat you on the head.

You take a couple of deep breaths and look back up at your friends. “Thanks, you guys I needed a rational person to talk me down. I love you.”

Momo taps your nose and Jirou shakes her head with a smile on her face. “Anytime you drama queen, you know we love you too.”

You get up and say your goodbyes before hurrying to your room to change.

When you get back down stairs you are wearing your cutest workout gear and have a duffle bag with you.

No need for makeup, I’m gonna be sweating anyway and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me looking worse.

When you walk towards the front doors the Baku squad is huddled around the couch trying their best to look like they aren’t spying on you.

“Real smooth you guys, real subtle. Hey Dynamight!”

“What do you fuckin want?!” Bakugou looks up from his book, red eyes blazing.

You try and fail to hold in a laugh. “Your Uhhh Haha, Your book is upside down.” Before he can throw it, you run outside almost colliding with Denki in the process.

“Woah there sparkplug!” Denki grabs your shoulders and steadies you with a small smile on his face. “Let me guess, running from Bakugou?”

You want to answer him, you really do. But he lost you at sparkplug and now you forgot what words are. “Uh umm w-what?” You shake your head trying to jumpstart your brain. “Did-did you just call me sparkplug?”

Denki’s eyes widen and he let’s go of your shoulders, putting a hand behind his head and rubbing his neck. “Oh Haha, yeah I uh I did.” He stands there for a moment, looking everywhere except at you. “OH! I’m – I’m sorry if you didn’t like it! It just kinda came out and oh geez I’m so sorry.”

His frantic waving breaks you out of your stupor and you giggle. “Don’t worry about it Kaminari! I actually… kinda …. Liked it?” Your face goes red and just as Denki opens his mouth to comment you start walking off at a brisk pace. “We better start getting over to the gym or it’s gonna be too late!”

Denki doesn’t follow immediately, cemented to the spot.

She liked it. She liked it!

He hears a knock on the windows and looks up, Mina and Kirishima yelling at him. He can’t hear it, but he doesn’t need to when they keep repeating, “Follow her you idiot!”

You keep walking, not even checking to see if Denki is following you.

I kinda liked it! Really Y/N? Just call yourself out why don’t you. God, I hope that didn’t freak him out. Alright, it’s fine. Just breath, just forget about it and move on.

You are taking deep breaths and giving yourself an internal pep talk when Denki catches up to you.

“So Uhhh, what ummm what do you wanna work on today?”

You can tell he is trying his best to ease the awkward tension, thankful really. You hoist the strap of your duffel higher on to your shoulder and glance at him.

“Well, you are the one who asked for a partner so I figured I would let you make that decision. But if you don’t have any ideas, I did have some of my own.” You both get to the doors of the gym stopping at a metal door that reveals a keypad. As you type in a password that was given to you by Aizawa, Denki can’t help but check you out.

You are in a pair of black slip-on shoes, a dark green pair of workout leggings with a matching zip up. The colors complimenting your beautiful skin, the pants stretched tight across your ass.

He rubs his hands over his face, closing his eyes and yelling at himself.

What am I doing? What if she doesn’t like being looked at like that, by me, or anyone. Stupid Kaminari, get it together!

You clear your throat, and he peeks through his fingers, you have a concerned look on your face one eyebrow raised.

“You okay there Kami?” You reach out and poke his forehead, to preoccupied with how adorable he looks with his hands covering his face to be worried about touching him.

Denki’s face turns red and his eyes widen. “Kami?”

“Yeah, Haha. I figured if you’re gonna call me a nickname I’ll call you one too!” You walk off with a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks.

She’s so pretty I’m gonna die.

Denki takes a breath, dropping his hands from his face and accepts the fact he is indeed going to die because you are so pretty. But first he needs to figure out a way to make you his if you want to be.

As you walk to the middle of the gym you drop your duffle bag and start stretching, waiting for Denki to join you.

“I really didn’t think anyone was going to take me up on my offer, so I don’t have any ideas for sparring. I’ll just follow your lead on this.” Denki drops his water bottle on top of your duffle and starts stretching next to you.

“Well, I know you have been struggling with hand-to-hand combat since that wasn’t an option with your quirk until recently so I think that would be the best place to start.” You finish stretching your arms and sit on the floor to continue with your legs. You turn your head to look up at Denki and not realizing he was so close to you, look directly at his crotch. You can’t help but stare, he was wearing grey joggers for Christ sakes! And boy did he fill them out, he maybe more on the lean side but that does not mean he isn’t built. And hung apparently if that imprint is any indication.

You feel your face get tomato red and swear you can feel your nose start bleeding. You turn your head quickly and clear your throat. “Did you want me to use a specific persons fighting style or your good with a wildcard?”

You can see Denki thinking about It for a moment, sitting down to finish his stretches and sticking the tip of his tongue out.

God he is so cute, I just wanna kiss his face.

“Let’s go with wildcard, I can’t think of any specific people. Plus…. I trust your judgement.” He stands up and offers his hand to you.

You take it without hesitation but when you stand up neither of you makes a move to let go. You are both looking at the ground and when you look up and meet each others eyes you both move away.

“Alrighty then! Let’s get started” You walk to the middle of a circle painted on the ground for sparring and get into a fighting stance.

Your quirk was very handy for practicing like this and helping others with combat. Your quirk was both mental and physical, your brain being able to learn any fighting style after seeing it once and your body being able to replicate it. The draw back was that most people base their fighting style off of their quirks (which you can’t replicate) but that did help you in terms of defense.

“Just don’t use your quirk yet, I don’t have anything to protect me from getting zapped.” You knew Denki wouldn’t try to hurt you but mentioning it out loud made you feel better.

You both stood in the circle, waiting for the other to make the first move. You were still trying to figure out what style you wanted to fight him in when he lunged for you, reaching out to grab one of your arms. You dodged to the side, turning so your back was to him and putting his arm over your shoulder. You lean back then lurch forward pulling his arm and crouching so he flips over you and lands on his back in front of you.

You hear the air leave his lungs, but you have both been through a lot of training in your three years and he recovers quickly. Flipping on to his stomach he gets his arms underneath his chest and pushes up getting on to his feet quickly. This time he waits for you to attack. You are both circling each other before you run at him and then slide going for his feet, he catches on to your move and runs towards you. He jumps over your body turns and grabs one of your arms twisting it to flip you over on your stomach. Before you can get up, he bends your arm behind your back and pins you with his body, straddling your hips and pushing down on your back.

You both stop moving, trying to catch your breath before you tap out. Denki scrambles to get off of you and help you up. “Oh shit, sorry sparkplug! You okay?”

You lean over with your hands on your hips still out of breath and wave him off. “Yeah… m’fine…. Just…. need a minute.” You walk over to your duffle bag tossing him his water bottle and grabbing your before taking slow sips. You wipe your face with the back of your hand and put your water bottle down. Now WAY to hot after sparring you unzip your jacket revealing a sheer tank top with a sports bra underneath.

Denki is still drinking water, so he doesn’t notice until you walk over rolling your shoulders and neck. His is mid drink when he sees you, eyes going wide choking on his water.

You jog up to him rubbing his back with a concerned look on your face. “Hey, hey! You alright Kami? What the hell happened?”

He finally gets his breathing under control and stands up straight turning to you. “Wow! That was weird! I’m alright Haha, you ready for another round?” His face is red, rubbing the back of his neck his eyes darting from your top to your face.

You chose to keep your face neutral, not giving any sign that you know what his problem is. But you can’t help but both scream internally in embarrassment and laugh in “karma bitch”.

So, he is checking me out 100% and I might melt but it’s only fair since I got an eye full of the cervix destroyer.

“Yeah, I’m ready, you ready to get your ass handed to you?” You smirk, pushing his shoulder as you walk past.

He laughs, happy you haven’t caught on to his ogling. “If I’m remembering correctly, I won the first round.”

“Well yeah!” Shrugging your shoulders, you get back into a fighting stance. “But that was just the warmup.”

It had been about 2 hours before you both decided to end after the next fight. You had both won multiple fights, but Denki had taken the lead 6-5.

You were both sweating, breathing heavy, you had taken off the sheer top over your sports bra and Denki had taken off his t-shirt.

Thank god he was wearing a tank top underneath but that has been distracting none the less.

You and Denki stand at either end of the circle, watching each other for the slightest movement. You move first, running towards the left side of his body. You knew he always had an opening on that side, even if he were quick at closing it in his tired state you could probably get him this time.

Fate was on your side; you could see the realization on his face just a second to late for him to do anything about it.

You jump at Denki bringing your legs up to wrap around his upper torso, using the momentum to swing around and knock him to the ground. You land, him on his back and you on top of him straddling his waist a hand on either side of his head. Your hair had come undone and was hanging down, a curtain shielding both of your faces from the outside world.

Neither of you makes a move, looking into each other’s eyes, breathing in the others breath, your lips just shy of brushing together. You can see the want in his eyes, the same look reflected on yours. He brings his hands up and caresses your thighs, just before you close the distance you hear a cough.

“I believe I said you could use this room for practice, not…. That.” You both look up, your hair parting just enough so both of you have a view of your homeroom teacher glaring at you with tired eyes.

Denki and you look back at each other and then scramble to move apart. You turn towards Aizawa and bow apologizing and grab your things to leave. Denki isn’t behind you; in fact, he has his back to you, and you can tell that his neck is bright red. “Kami! Let’s go!”

Denki turns and glances at you with nervous eyes. “Oh uh, I gotta talk to Aizawa so I’ll see you later!”

“Alright! Yeah see you later.” You hurry past your teacher, eyes downcast. Walking back to the dorm you try to figure out what Denki could possibly need to talk to the teacher for.

It’s the weekend, and he never talks to the teacher, he isn’t getting bad grades so…. OH MY GOD

You suddenly stop walking, your face bursting into flames. Before you got up Denki had shifted while you were on top of him and you could have sworn something poked your thigh.

“Oh god, what if Sensi didn’t walk in at that moment? Would we have ended up having sex?”

You think about it for a moment, your brain going from embarrassed to pissed in a matter of seconds.

“Did I just get cock blocked by my homeroom teacher?!” You continue walking to the dorm pissed off, tired of the sexual tension and mutual attraction between you and Denki not going anywhere.

If he isn’t gonna make the first move, then I will.

Denki finally walks back to the dorms, crestfallen. Aizawa knew exactly why he stayed behind, giving him a talking to about initiating that kind of behavior in public. As soon as his teacher started talking his issue calmed down and then he had to wait until he stopped lecturing.

As he is walking back to the dorms his quirk is sparking left and right, his mind going into self-destruction mode.

Dude! A boner? What the actual fuck is wrong with you? What if she felt it? Were you going to kiss? Her eyes are so pretty up close. Why did you get a hard on? That’s it, I’m digging a hole behind the dorms and living in it.

He is almost to the building when you walk up to him, a determined look on your face. “Hey uh L/N, I am so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble and – “You stop just short of bumping into his chest and look up.

“I like you. Do you like me too?”

Denki stops talking and just stares down at you.

“I’ve liked you since you found me crying after class and told me all those horrible jokes to help me feel better.”

Denki’s eyes go wide. “That, that happened in our first year!”

“Yes, it was.” You are still looking up at him, your face getting red, worry seeping into your eyes.

Denki is trying his best to talk, to assure you he does also like you, to say something but words are failing him. He can feel his quirk acting up, probably seconds from ruining this moment so he does the only thing he can think of.

“Mmmphf” Denki wraps an arm around your waist pulling you close, cups the back of your head, and crushes his lips against yours. You are shocked for a moment, literally shocked since his quirk was sparking off but the softness of his lips is intoxicating, you reach your hands up to grip his shirt.

When you start getting light headed from the lack of air you gently push Denki and he immediately pulls away. His lips are red and glossy, his eyes dark, pupils blown out.

“You okay sparkplug?”

You huff out a laugh, a small smile on your face. “I’m fine, just hoping that kiss meant you liked me too.”

“Why would it not? Do you normally kiss people you don’t like?” Denki tilts his head in question, laughter in his eyes.

You scoff. “Really Kaminari? I give you this whole heartfelt speech and- mmphf-you just-mmphf “Denki keeps kissing you, but you put your hands over his mouth, laughing. “Okay! Okay! I get it, you like me too.” Putting your forehead on his chest, you stick your lip out and pout. “The least you can do is say it out loud you know.”

Denki moves to grab your shoulders, slightly pushing you away so he can look in your eyes. You drop your hands, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I like you L/N. I’ve liked you since you stood up for me last year and I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since. I like you a lot and I want to be with you. Is – is that okay?” You can see his short burst of confidence wavering, so you take a page out of his book and lean forward to kiss him.

Later that night

“You saw them, right?”

“How could you miss them? Kaminari had a stupid smile on his face and L/N was holding his hand.”

“I saw them kissing out front.”

“I thought Kaminari was gonna zap her, it scared me for a second.”

As most of 3A is down stairs hanging out in the common room you and Denki are in yours, making up for lost time.

When you finally get up the stairs and to your room (Denki insisted on your room) its only a second after you shut your door and lock it before he pushes you against it.

His hands cupping your face, his body pressed against yours and you melt into it. He tilts his face down a bit, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before nibbling on it and you moan. He lets go of your lip and chuckles, the slight opening allowing you to delve your tongue in. He moans this time, letting go of your face to caress the sides of your body, the heels of his hands ghosting over the side of your breasts before stopping at your hips.

When he pulls away you grab his hand and pull him to your bed, pushing him down to sit on the edge of it before getting on his lap and straddling him.

“Oh shit, are you- um are you sure you want to do this?” He rests his hand on your thighs looking at you with wide eyes.

You rest your forearms on his shoulders and kiss him softly. “We are just making out Kaminari, I just figured this more comfortable for both of us. Are you uncomfortable? I could move.” You shift, preparing to sit next to him but he grabs your hips and keeps you in place.

“No! I-I’m fine, just checking on ya.” He turns his head to kiss your arm. “You can use my first name by the way… unless you don’t want to of course.”

You hum in thought, moving so that your lips are a breath away from his ear. “Can you kiss me now…. Denki”

A shiver runs up his spine, he turns his face to kiss you, mostly tongue and teeth but passionate none the less.

Denki puts his hands under your ass and holds you to him before picking you up. He turns around still kissing you and lays you down on the bed before pulling away, hands on either side of your face.

“Y/N, if I could I’d never stop kissing you.”

@eyebagsbutglam @patchworkpuzzle @doinmybesthere

@reinawritesbnha

#denki x reader #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #kaminari x y/n #mha fic #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #lilliths follower event #lilliths 100 #lillith writes #lilliths masterlist #lilliths fic #honestly how did i expect to make a short denki fic #his is my mans #just sayin 🤷🏻‍♀️

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader. The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think. Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP! BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms. Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out. Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift. But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters. As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent. It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills.

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off. Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed. “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.” I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space. It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures. Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together. Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting. She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief. Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order. First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix. Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space.

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels. Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone. “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component. The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.��

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is. Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily. Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something. I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion. The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom. Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it. Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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ashesandhalefire · 3 years

Note

would love to hear your complicated feelings on the michael/sanders scene in context!

okay so this is messy because my thoughts are still a little all over the place, but the issues i had were specifically with the new power reveal, and they were basically 1) the way they've handled the pod squad gaining new abilities, and 2) the decision to give michael in particular this ability and backstory

i wish the reasoning was more nuanced and meaningful but a lot of it is just "i don't vibe with this" and "i think it's dumb" lmao

so i'm starting to get less and less impressed with how they're rolling out this "aliens can have more than one skill" idea. sometimes the concept comes across as Very Sexy but the execution less so. i wanted to actually see them learning these new skills. i wanted to see them tutoring each other and practicing and doing stuff wrong and getting frustrated and feeling weird trying to learn powers that are different from the ones that have been a part of them for their whole lives. but isobel's telekinesis was really the only new skill that got any screen time, and i think michael was only sort of grudgingly there for one scene of it. healing hasn't been mentioned (to my recollection?), and mindscape practice has been mostly off-screen and it seemed more about deflection in case they were pulled into jones's mindscape and less about learning to influence people. and now it's starting to feel like we're just sort of rolling out new full-fledged abilities left and right. like, there are really only three or so, but it feels like oprah is behind the scenes going YOU GET A POWER AND YOU GET A POWER and doesn't feel as organic as i'd like it to feel. and at least reading auras and telepathy have mindscape vibes and feel like natural extensions of that power. but why is firebending now a whole new subset of powers? what are the limits of these alien abilities? how many more undiscovered powers are there? and that's not even mentioning the proficiency with swords. that feels like a decently unique kind of weapon to fight with, but it doesn't require any practice. we just dig that sucker up and the spirit of mom says "fuck 'em up, girlie." who cares if jones has been fighting with it for decades (centuries? i'm unclear on the length of this guy's life lol). he's not good enough to beat a really motivated novice. anyway! now we're saying that michael has secretly been able to jump into heads and control people for ten years but he doesn't use the power because he's terrified that it makes him evil and his siblings will be disgusted with him. and despite the fact that he hasn't practiced this power in ten years, a large part of the "beat the bad guy" plan hinges on his being able to overpower jones's control of the sheriff, meaning that the incident at eighteen isn't being looked at as a fluke when a new power manifests. we're just assuming michael has this fully developed mind control ability lying dormant in his brain. we lay out that michael did this thing, redefined his whole life by this new trauma, and, after a quick pep talk with his pseudo-dad, has processed his fears of his inherent evil enough to confess to his siblings and subject himself to using the power. all in like six minutes of screen time. and his siblings are entirely unaffected by this. they're not like... what??? you lied about a secret power for years??? they're just like [PSA voice, mentor putting a hand on mentee's shoulder] you could never be bad, michael. we love you. and then he DOESN'T EVEN DO IT. he just hops into the mindscape like anyone else could've done and says "pls don't shoot my friends :(" and the sheriff says okay and stops "letting" jones control her. why was this a good way to roll out this new power??? so the whole point of the reveal that michael has this mind control power apparently didn't even have anything to do with the sheriff subplot because he didn't actually use this power to resolve that problem. for now - until it comes back again, which based on some of the other subplots this season is not a guarantee - it was just to heap more trauma on his shoulders and legitimize this "woe is me, i'm a horrible monster!!" yarn they keep trying to spin without actually showing him do anything Truly Bad or Mildly Morally Gray. the sanders conversation is a rehashing of the alex convo from earlier where someone has to insist to michael that his genetics don't make him inherently evil. and the alex one was more effective for me because it was in the immediate aftermath of this massive revelation about who his father was AND michael

thought he was about to get murdered. he was spinning out. but having it happen again like eight episodes later - after michael still hasn't actually done anything to lend some legitimacy to his fears that his bloodline is Unavoidably Evil - doesn't have the same emotional impact. the worst things michael has ever done with his powers were shown back in the first half of s1, and he's be almost entirely reformed since then. so to set up whatever michael/jones showdown must be coming our way, we get the introduction of this ability that michael has never even so much as hinted at having before, and we get the reveal that it has colored how he looks at himself since he was eighteen. what. michael saying that his religious extremist family tried to perform an exorcism on him and couldn't and dallas inferring that he started to believe he was the demon was a good exchange. we already knew about that incident, but michael played it off as no big deal during 1x06. the new conversation helps him to relate to dallas, finds them some common ground, establishes trust, and makes the true emotional depth of what happened to michael explicit. having michael redefine all of his emotional struggles for the last ten years through the lens of "actually i found out that i have the same ability as the alien that possessed my sister and made her kill three girls in front of me, and it has made me view myself as fundamentally evil since that day" is such a bad rewrite of his history. was the history of horribly abusive foster homes insufficient in explaining michael's self-worth issues? was being the victim of a hate crime not enough trauma? was the witnessing and covering up of two separate murders that derailed his entire academic future not enough to make michael question his own goodness or value? why would it be necessary to add this mind control element to really make him feel bad about stuff?

and if ANYONE was going to get a story that dealt with struggles with consent and mental control, why was it not isobel?? why was it not that holding the turquoise enhanced her abilities and enabled her to control people, and she was TERRIFIED of that because of noah?? her consent was violated horribly, and she has struggled horribly with respecting the consent of others. this needed to be her ability to develop and deal with! giving it to michael fully developed also feels like a very handwavey, last minute choice. if this was planned from the beginning, why is this the first that the audience has heard about it? he says he never mentioned it because of isobel, which explains why isobel and max don't know about it. but why doesn't the audience know about it? in s1, michael is adamant that liz leave town. if isobel couldn't get her to go, why didn't michael sneak off and make her leave? why didn't he force her to forget (if that's within the purview of the power)? sure, he doesn't like having this power. but he's also more than willing to sacrifice himself for his siblings. wouldn't a little unethical behavior be worth saving them from experimentation? also if michael has been able to force people to do things all along, where was that energy when alex got kidnapped? why is torturing flint in a basement less inherently evil than just compelling him to tell the truth or compelling helena to let alex and charlie go? i know not everything can be planned from the beginning. but there was no reason this power had to be written like this. it didn't have to be something michael knew he had. but they chose to insert it into his history, and i feel like that was a bad call. - positives about the scene dad!sanders supremacy michael needs a dad figure who's like "you're a good person, you dumbass" and straight up LAUGHS at his assertion that he's evil.

#powderseal #asks for ts #wank for ts #because it's a big ol' complain-fest in here lol #and only actually barely related to the actual michael/sanders convo...

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Yoga

Summary: Vincenzo hides his jealousy as well as he hides being part of the mafia.

Author's note: it was supposed to be a cute jealous yoga story I don't know why this ended in angst 😂😂😂 I really need to get my life together. Also Vincenzo rubbed me the wrong way today and some people are trying to convince me that I'm interpreting the show incorrectly and explaining to me why it didn't offend them and why everything was fine and I just need you to know, my opinion isn't changing but listen if you had a great time today watching the episode please don't let me stop you. I don't need anyone to be outraged with me. I'll be mad all by myself I promise! But just to be clear my problem was the creation of yet another gay character who an awful person in a kdrama. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen gay characters not be predators or abusive.

Anywho I give you jealous aerial yoga fun that ends in man pain!

He probably believes that he's being inconspicuous again, hiding this side of him as well as he'd thought he was hiding being a member of the mafia. But he's just as obvious as he always is in her eyes, much like her he's too theatrical to ever really conceal how he's feeling. He talks too much and reveals his cards too easily- especially to her.

He's attracted to her that much is painfully evident, if her father's nosy assistant hadn't interrupted they would have kissed. She would have been laid across the table and taken apart, his eyes promised a great time as he devoured her. She was just as attracted to him, she wouldn't have stopped him from doing whatever he wanted.

It is getting more difficult to ignore the quiet moments though, when she can feel his eyes on her and it's not sexual at all. He's just looking at her and she feels bare, naked.

Those moments scare her in a way she hasn't felt before. Ergo she presses them deep, deep into the dark corners of her brain behind all the different ways that she has concocted to throw off others, she's used to being strange and having men overlook her for it.

She's never been what others would consider "sexy". But then he appears and suddenly men seem to see her in a new light. Or maybe he brings her attention to it.

It all begins at the coffee shop, they've made a habit of starting their mornings together by getting coffee. She doesn't analyze what exactly they're doing but some may consider it a date, she hasn't giving the outings a title there's no need to.

She feels comfortable with him and he hasn't been resistant to her pushing her way into his life. She has always been like this, too much and overbearing. Usually it drives people away and she pretends that it doesn't hurt that she's something that people need in doses, she's heard that so often that it's etched in her brain.

Friends in college, boyfriends and her colleagues to name a few.

But for some reason he keeps coming back for more doses, regularly smiling at her shenanigans even egging on her antics with full body laughs.

So he'd taken her to get coffee grinning once again as she dragged her caffeine deprived body dramatically like a puppet with its strings cut to the counter, plopping herself on the surface before crying out, "If I don't get a large sewage water in five minutes my death will be on your hands!" The barista behind the counter grinned over at her, used to her dramatics. He was young, barely nineteen and he'd tried his hand at flirting with her a few times. She had promptly laughed in his face the first time, spewing coffee everywhere before strutting out of the shop.

Laughing and punching a stranger in the arm, ignoring the loud "Hey! What are you doing," before she danced down the sidewalk, hand on her hip as she flipped her hair before shouting to the sky, "I've still got it, baby!"

That day he had glanced at Vincenzo before walking over to her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I didn't realize I had so much power over you. What if I say I won't give it to you unless you let me take you on a date?" She remembered her eyes widening in shock and then disbelief and finally landing on bemusement, he was persistent she would give him that much but she was no cougar so his flirting was futile.

She opened her mouth to let him down easy- laugh in his face again and remind him that he had to be this old to ride her ride but suddenly her Italian was leaning across the counter, all cool lines with a deadly smile on his face.

With a his deep voice he chillingly said, "If you don't give it to her your death will be on my hands."

There was heavy silence.

He continued, "I know how to kill a man with only a coffee cup and a string."

The barista, Heon, stared at Vincenzo with all of the blood draining from his youthful face. She didn't blame him the man did sound unnervingly serious and the look in his eyes was a little too real to be purely acting. Plus there was conveniently a coffee cup and a string right there on the table, it was an oddly specific thing to say.

Then after a pregnant pause, he started laughing loudly filling the entire shop like a mad man and she looked over at him as if he had lost his damn mind but this was her favorite coffee shop, she couldn't be banned so she started laughing with him, guffawing and pushing the idiot on the shoulders.

"He's just joking! HahaHAHAHA, laugh it was a joke! LAUGH!!" She leaned across the counter to pat the scared boy on the back but then Vincenzo leaned into her, draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her back until she was no longer touching him. His laughter static and too robotic to be anything other than a hoax.

She'd never seen anyone brew coffee that fast before. It was impressive what a person could do when they felt as if their life was in danger she'd thought, she gave him a generous tip before leaving.

Heon mysteriously stopped working when they would normally come to the coffee, another barista informed her that he had switched his hours. A certain Italian was really cheerful upon hearing the news, whistling an unknown tune as he sipped his tiny cup of espresso- double shot, traipsing away with a pep in his step and the wind beneath his suit coat.

His random violent outbursts continued.

Bartenders. Businessmen. Traffic officers. Other lawyers. A librarian who had flirtatiously whispered that she wouldn't need to be quiet when they were alone. Suddenly there were men everywhere and she was the hottest thing on the menu, her lower back probably had an imprint of his hand by now from all the times he would steer her away from her suitors.

Every time his excuses were the same, "I'm just protecting you. Guys like that are scum, you deserve better."

Well the one she wanted had no intention of staying so why was he blocking anyone else from trying?

Thinking about it makes her chest feel tight and she welcomes the weekend, she has booked an aerial yoga class to release some of the stress and tension just being around the Italian causes.

It's a warm day so she dons a small set, a light blue sports bra with matching shorts throwing a light jacket over in case the temperature drops at the end of the day. Looking in the mirror she scoops her hair into a low ponytail, pushing back baby hairs that frame her face.

She swipes a thin layer of chapstick across her dry lips before grabbing her phone, keys, gym membership card and her gym bag with a change of clothes.

The drive to the studio is short, she listens to BlackPink on the radio happily screaming about her dududududu complete with car choreo that consists of arm shakes and a lot of hair whipping. It's another miraculous day where she does not cause a car accident, she gives herself a high five for the small victory.

She parks her car haphazardly driving onto the sidewalk several times before getting it right. With a satisfied sigh she hops out of her car, opening the back door and bending over to grab her gym bag.

"Cha-young ah?"

A familiar voice surprises her and she jumps bumping her head into the roof of her car with a cry, she drops the gym bag and leans out of the car rubbing her throbbing head with a pained grimace.

Vincenzo is standing in front of her, in what is the most casual outfit she has ever seen him wear. A pair of navy blue sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt and expensive looking black sneakers, leave it to him to wear Balenciagas when trying to look casual.

Her mouth becomes very dry as she takes in the unexpected but very much welcome sight.

Shaking herself out of her stupor she raises an eyebrow at him, "What are you doing here?" She asks once again leaning into her car to retrieve her gym bag. When she turns around slamming the door shut she watches Vincenzo peel his eyes away, quickly looking away from her direction.

Had he been checking her out?

She smirks at the thought before openly checking him out. Eyes perusing his body up and down in a slow and thorough examination.

"Are you checking me out?" He asks amused as he folds his arms across his chest, making his already impressive biceps look even bigger and more enticing. She knows exactly what he's doing, he's about as subtle as a bulldozer.

"Yes, I am. Do you need me to turn around again so you can check me out?" She laughs easily as he sputters and tries to deny her claims, once he realizes that she doesn't believe a word he's saying he finally stops, admitting defeat.

"Those are...great shorts." He drawls, gone is the embarrassed act. Now he's freely eying her shorts clad body, eyes hot as they trail up and down her legs.

Shaking her head she smiles at him, "You never answered my question. What are you doing here?" He struts over to her prying her gym bag from her hand and throwing it over his free shoulder. She tries not to get too affected by his sudden closeness, his cologne filling her nostrils with the fresh earthy musk.

"My gym is here. I came to work out. You look like you had the same idea, you should have called me." There he goes again, making space for himself in her life although he has no intention of staying with her. It was cruel and she knows she should cut him off before it's too late.

"I don't think you'll be interested in what I'm doing." She answers walking ahead, holding the gym door open for him. They both show their card to the attendant at the front and the young worker smiles at her before saying, "Your aerial yoga class will be starting in five minutes. It's best to go early and secure a good spot."

She can see Vincenzo's questioning face in her peripheral but she ignores him to nod at the younger woman, tugging her bag off his shoulder and nodding at him in dismissal.

"Enjoy your work out." She climbs the stairs leading to the huge studio where the aerial classes are held. His eyes are like lasers on her back and she already knows that he's going to follow her, he's too intrigued to stay away. That's what she was banking on.

She would get him back for all his jealous tantrums this past week. There were so many places they were probably going to be banned from and all because he didn't know how to play well with others. She's wasn't some toy he could claim. Especially when she couldn't claim him back.

Finding a spot in the corner she puts her bag down on one of the mats that are provided, taking a few moments to do some light stretches. She bends over touching her toes before dipping her head and elongating her neck, then she does a few squats and jumping jacks just to get her blood pumping and her heart racing.

She can feel the exact moment that he comes, it also helps that all the women gasp and she can hear coy giggles about their new guest. She pretends not to notice him, stretching backwards into a perfect handstand holding it for a few minutes before tilting back and planting her feet until she's upright again. She almost loses her composure when she catches his expression in the large windows.

He looks shocked and aroused, neck redder than normal.

All the women settle down when the instructor comes to the front of the room, they have reached the point where he no longer shows them what to do instead he walks around the room correcting their form and giving tips or words of encouragement.

He's a beautiful man, with mocha colored skin and a lean muscled build and the most gorgeous head of coily hair. She has been coming here for months and they've become quite closer as they have a lot in common, most importantly they both love men. When they had run into each other and realized they were staring at the same guy's ass, it was love at first ogle.

When he comes over to greet her she immediately steps into his space with a mischievous grin. Sean grins back looking exasperated already but he still says, "What are you up to? I know that smile Ms. Cha-young." She leans closer certain that Vincenzo is avidly watching her every move. Trailing a finger up his thick bicep she whispers, "Nine o clock, don't look but I need your help to teach him a lesson. Are you up to it?"

Sean starts to turn his head before processing her order and stopping, he stares at her before a devilish look gleams in his bright eyes too.

"You know I'm always up." He replies voice full of innuendos and she fake swoons, bringing her hand to her forehead. "Don't tease me."

He chuckles at her before walking back to the front of the room, none of the other women react to their flirtations used to their antics and everyone already knows that Sean is as gay as the pride flag. Everyone except one fuming Italian.

She can feel his waves of anger crashing across the room and she tugs at the cloth in front of her testing the weight before easily hoisting herself up, letting it cup her bottom as her feet dangle.

She's ready to put on a show.

He hadn't stalked her per se, he'd merely overheard one of the tenants say that they'd seen Cha-young in a nearby studio on weekends so he'd went to see if she really did go there. And then there she was bent over in her car, pert little bottom sticking out the car and he wanted nothing more than to smack the flesh and watch it bounce and jiggle under his hand.

This was why he was so protective, not jealous. Protective. She was too careless with her body and there were salacious men out there ready to take advantage of that, she needed someone like him who had a pure heart to look out for her.

He was allowed to fantasize about spanking her while having a pure heart, it was called having duality.

So he'd followed her into the gym, a little peeved when she abandoned him without a word to attend something called "aerial yoga", he knew regular yoga and if it was anything like that he was very much interested.

In watching her do it.

Turning to the young worker who had been staring a hole in his face, he sent her a charismatic smile before leaning nonchalantly on the counter, he could tell that he had her full attention by the way her mouth fell open.

He almost felt bad, she seemed a bit wet behind the ears. But he wasn't really trying to seduce her so it was fine, he wasn't some old creepy predator.

"Hey, that aerial yoga class am I allowed to watch it? I want to see if it's something I might be interested in." He lies to the younger woman, watching her process his words before answering.

"Well technically that class is restricted for those who signed up..." She trails off looking at him and he smiles brightly, pushing his curly hair off his forehead he had forgo his products today and the way her eyes follow his fingers make him thankful that he did so. "But you won't do any harm by watching, I'm sure it'll be fine. Go on up." She finishes and he throws a mental fist pump, he still had it.

Outwardly he smiles serenely, thanking her before walking up the stairs that Cha-young just disappeared up. It leads to a spacious studio with a wall of gleaming mirrors and huge bay windows overlooking the city. He looks around before his eyes land on her, the reason why he's here.

He swallows a groan as he watches her stretch that slim gently curvy body, she's all smooth lines and feminine appeal. When she starts squatting he can't help but watch those firm cheeks tensing and tightening, he lazily leans back hungrily watching her.

Then he almost swallows his tongue when she bends backwards into a perfect bridge before lifting herself into a handstand, damn she was strong and deliciously flexible. Looking her in the eye was going to be even more difficult now.

His heckles raise when he sees another man approaching her suddenly, a Black man who seems way too familiar with his Cha-young based on the way they both grin and invade the others space. He sneers as he watches them whisper and grin at each other, who was this guy and why were they so close? He releases a sigh of relief when the man finally backs up, going to the front of the room before pressing a button and light soothing music begins to play.

He must be the instructor then. Wonderful. He prays that was the end of the unnecessary touching and standing too close to his lawyer. He doesn't want to have to make a scene.

It isn't the end. Not by a long shot.

The instructor who had introduced himself as Sean easily walked around, stopping every once in a while to correct someone or praise them for having good form. The ladies would preen and thank him and that was it, he would nod before moving on.

Cha-young was the only exception to this rule.

He watches mesmerized as the limber lawyer bends herself into a graceful pose that resembles a swan and he can't fight the images that start flashing in his mind of them in bed, her twisting around him with pieces of cloth. Tying him up and showing him just how flexible she is all night long until they both sore and sated.

When she suddenly releases the cloth and starts tumbling to the ground he finds himself jumping into action shoving the fantasy to the crevice of his mind, legs already moving to catch her before she saves herself with her ankles, her body swinging freely with her face only inches from the floor. His heart skips a beat before it starts chugging along again.

Why was she always worrying him?

"That was perfect Cha-young! You've finally let go of your fear of falling!" Sean praises her walking over and patting her legs, but he doesn't let go after the quick touch. He keeps those grabby hands on her thigh and helps her back up onto the cloth, he thinks that will be the end of it. He's wrong.

He moves her body into a new pose with the cloth wrapped around her shoulder and he glares when a hand runs down her back precariously close to her bottom before rolling back up. He pushes her gently on the cloth harness and she laughs gleefully before she whispers something to the instructor, it's hard to read her lips from this distance but he can make out, "with me."

He understands what she asked for when Sean nods and moves into position.

Sean wraps his arms around the same cloth and suddenly lifts himself off the ground, his face level with her groin and he wants to go over and rip the cloth from the ceiling and strangle the man with it. Then Sean pulls himself up and Cha-young slides out of her seated position, grabbing the cloth too until they're face to face and spinning in lazy hypnotic circles. They both have huge grins on their faces as they move together in perfect harmony, the last straw comes when she wraps her legs around his waist and their bodies are pressed together- he sees blazing red and disconcerting white and then finally pitch black.

He's fleeing before he's even aware of it. Bounding down the stairs, two steps at a time then shoving the entrance door open and letting the surge of cool air ease his anger. If he stayed another second the instructor would be dangling out the window much like that thug before except he wasn't sure if he would be able to pull him back up.

Why was he so anger? She'd looked fine, happy even. She clearly wasn't being taken advantage of. But his rage is bursting at the seams and he jolts when a hand suddenly grips his wrist. Instinctively he turns grabbing the person and slamming them into the nearby wall.

Cha-young looks up at him, face flushed and sweaty.

That will also be burned into his retina.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me." He warns taking deep breaths to suppress some of the frustration he feels looking at her, the memory still fresh in his mind.

"What's wrong with you?" She counters bringing her hands to his shoulders rubbing in a calming motion, "You look pissed. Did something happen?"

He watches her for a second, taking her in seemingly harmless question and recalls her legs wrapped around another man who wasn't him and he wants to punch that fucking handsy instructor right in his smug fac--

Wait.

She was smiling. No, smirking. Right up at him like she knew everything that was racing through his head.

He'd been played.

"Did you have fun?" He asks voice laced with snarkiness and he shoves her harder into the wall, red hot fury brewing in the pit of his stomach. She knew that he was part of the mafia but still acted like this. Did she not have any sense of self preservation?

"Were you jealous?" She asks in a ostentatiously cutesy voice like this is all a hilarious joke and he wants to kiss that damn smug look right off her face. No one has ever dared to treat him like this, acted like he was a joke.

She's playing with fire and he's not opposed to burning her up.

"Do you still think you have the upper hand right now?" He looms over her pushing his pelvis into her and she squeaks at the hardness that pokes into her. To his surprise she eagerly presses back, pulling him in by his waist until they are flushed chest to chest. He doesn't know if an upper hand exists anymore.

"Yes. I do, getting to see you jealous was the highlight of my day. Cute little jealous mafia lawyer."

He snarls at her feeling stupid because of how easily she can play him, and without thinking he wraps his arms around her.

"You looked really cozy with him."

She sniffs before pouting at him, "Yeah and you didn't fight for me at all. Where were the death threats and cold glares? Sean would have pissed his pants." Her giggles only make him angrier because she's seen through him all along.

He stares at her blankly before throwing caution to the wind and leaning down to capture her tempting lips, he runs a hand through her ponytail tugging her head closer to him and she moves easily with him standing on her tiptoes. He closes his eyes ready to put himself out of his misery when he feels a finger in his lips, he blinks his eyes open staring at her perplexed and a bit offended.

"What?"

"Are you staying in Korea?" She talks over him, her finger firm on his mouth.

They both stare at each other and her question spins in his busy mind, thoughts too full of her seductive moves earlier and how badly he wanted to destroy anyone who dared to look at her. He doesn't know why that question is coming up now, at this particular moment when he just wants to kiss her breathless. They can leave the rational thoughts for later, right now there should be more frenzied kissing. But when he tries to push her finger away she grabs his face hard, adamant.

He stares at her and finally he sees the chinks in her armor, gone is the overly confident Cha-young that he's so used to seeing and there's something softer in that stead, the vulnerability that always shrouds over her eyes when they have this reoccurring conversation is back and it leaves him feeling cornered as it always does.

He can't answer that question. The answer should be easy and it had been before her. He was going to take his gold and get the fuck out of this God forsaken country.

That had been the plan pre: Cha-young.

Now that plan was muddled and he could admit that he was jealous of other men stealing her away from him, at least to himself. Could admit that he wanted to wreck her completely, have her screaming in his bed those nimble limbs wrapped around him as he thrust into her over and over and over. But he wasn't ready to admit that he might feel something more than just intense attraction to her. That she had changed all his plans and made him consider settling down, with her. It was insane, he barely knew her and they weren't even in a relationship.

"No. I told you, I'm leaving."

He's a coward. He can admit that too.

She sends him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes before ducking under his arms.

"Then leave and don't confuse me. I'm not yours to get jealous over. I'll see you Monday."

She doesn't look back, walking straight to her car and speeding away without checking any of her mirrors as she's wont to do despite him constantly reprimanding her for it, he's certain she's over the speed limit.

He punches the wall with a yell, the pain in his fist nothing compared to the pain in his chest. It was a huge mistake coming back here.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #aerial yoga #don't try any of things I wrote about #you might die #i made this all up #man pain #emotional constipation

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sebbybooks · 3 years

Text

Never Mine

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Part One

"With my dog as my witness, to whoever was riding my ass if they didn't back off my bumper I was going to stop in the middle of the road and rip their windshield wipers completely off!"

That type of anger coiled around me like a snake, because there was nothing that bugged me more than someone driving bumper to bumper. The long and exasperated breath I just released helped ease the tension out of my body temporarily. Just in time for reason to settle in. Though in reality it wasn't like I was actually going to jump out of my car and confront this road demon. Who clearly needed to take a course on etiquettes of the road. What I did know was that whoever was behind the wheel of the car had headlights that were so blinding I am sure extraterrestrials in space could spot them.

Trying to find the calm in the situation I focused on the road ahead of me. What little road I could see for that matter. Which wasn't exactly much. I had checked the forecast earlier in the day with the report of it showing that there was to be only clear and blue skies. By the amount of downpour before me you would think there was a tear in the sky if that was how rain fell. I just needed to hang tight for a few more miles until I reached my exit to stop for the night.

I had been driving for nine consecutive hours and it wasn't until the third hour I realized I was not cut out for long distance driving. The plane ticket I turned down from my father was starting to look like a missed opportunity. I opted out for Cooper's sake. I just rescued the little guy a few short weeks ago and I didn't have the heart to leave him alone so soon.

Despite having only six more hours of this painful drive I needed out of my car. A hot shower and a bed was calling my name like a siren's call was to a dazed sailor at sea. I was fervidly drawn to it. Granted, I wasn't exactly going the speed limit in my own defense. Simply because I chose to be a cautious driver not a careless one unlike the dip shit behind me. Cooper and I were going to get to Sonoma, California in one piece if I had anything to do with it! I had no intention to speed in the rain even if it annoyed the person behind me. After all I was driving down a one lane road there was literally nothing else I could do but drive forward.

Taking a glance up at my trusty Garmin my gps projected that at this rate I wouldn't make it to my hotel for another hour and a half. Ahead of me the sky was starting to look like a terrifying shade of gray and to top it off the dismal weather was becoming more and more hard to drive in. I could barely see the paint on the pavement. My defrosters seemed to have given up on me as I began to notice that my rearview mirror fogged up as though it was twilight hour.

I needed to pull over to try to wait out the heavy rainfall. The only problem was that I did not know where I was nor could I see where the road even had an end. The cheap gas station coffee was starting to wear off and the pep talks could no longer motivate me. The words of encouragement quickly transitioned into self deprecating quips of "I can not fucking do this!"

I was too far from home to turn back now and hearing a lecture from my dad despite being well beyond the ages of even receiving one, certainly would not stop him from scolding at my absence. I am more than certain that fiancée number three would not mind if I missed their prenuptial celebration. Especially if arriving on time meant I would be showing up dismembered. It was official I was going to die in this storm.

All of sudden like I called upon a bad omen my tiny Kia Forte jerked forward. I thought I accidentally stomped on the gas pedal too hard without realizing it. When it happened again I knew exactly what it was. Clearly the driver had mistaken this for a game of bumper cars. I laid the palm of my hand on the center of my steering wheel and relentlessly pressed my horn. Not sure what that was going to necessarily ward off , but I had to try something in the efforts that they would leave me alone.

Cooper's head shot up from his bed in the backseat. He looked just as displeased and annoyed as I felt. Why wouldn't they slow down? Is the question I could not figure out. I don't know if it was all the Stephen King that I read, but my paranoia was increasing as I started to settle on the possibility that they were now following me.

Maybe I was tired?

Maybe my imagination truly was getting the best of me?

Or maybe whoever that person was also suddenly decided to take the same random exit as I was taking.

I didn't think. I veered my car off to the right and got on the first breakaway from this seemingly endless road. I had no idea where I was headed at this point and neither did my Garmin. It made multiple attempts to reroute itself, but even that could not locate where I was. I took an unexpected detour by driving off into the middle of nowhere with a now stalker in my midsts.

Adrenaline now filling up my bloodstream. I gave my steering wheel the death grip and drove as fast as the tire tracks of my car would guide me. On a midsize billboard to my left I saw a logo for a gas station and a non franchised bed & breakfast saying it was right up the road. I was taking a chance by trusting that the establishment was clean and safe. I just needed to go where a crowd of people would be. The battery on my phone was likely dead and yes this was now becoming the opening sequence for a King novel. I'd laugh if my heart wasn't fluttering as fast a hummingbird's wing.

I managed to make out lights ahead as I neared the petrol station first. However, it just about looked abandoned. The dim white lights flickered around the desolate parking lot. I saw only two freight trucks parked side by side and I immediately thought

. . .hell no.

I kept driving forward in the hopes that the bed and breakfast sign wasn't last updated in the early nineties. I nearly combusted from relief when I finally saw it. Several cars and mini vans lined up with people inside of them probably doing the same thing that I was. I didn't plan on staying the night I just planned on staying long enough to hide out from the rain and from the trouble that still followed my trails.

Luckily there were free parking spaces close to the entrance. It was still hard to make out what the place truly looked like. From my view in the car the rain made it look like it was a melting oil painting. In a swift motion I put my car in park, turned my ignition off, reached in the back to grab Cooper and grabbed ahold of my purse in the other arm. I bolted out of my car for the door.

It felt as though I was running through a hurricane. I was completely drenched. I could barely keep my eyes from closing as I ran up the slippery steps in my worn Toms praying that I wouldn't eat concrete. There was an awning over the door that offered relief from the storm's cruel embrace . Looking down at the fuzzy brown welcome mat I noticed a quote was scribbled out on it.

"some beautiful paths

can't be discovered without getting lost."

As I reached for the doorknob I couldn't help but notice the intricate design. I'm aware of how wrong the timing was to fawn over something so utterly mundane. I just could not conceal the fact that I was a sucker for antiques roadshow and architectural designing. Growing up with a dad that built and reconstructed vintage furniture one might pick up on the interest. It was a white privacy doorknob with hand painted roses, with a Victorian long plated silver keyhole. The sound of distant car door slamming snapped me out of my daze. I turned my head in the direction of the sound low and behold it was that same car. Crazy thing is I didn't see anyone by it.

Instinct guided me forward considering my brain was scrambling with worry. I ushered myself inside and it was as though I fell into a pink wonderland. From the pink carpet to the multicolored pink pinstripe wallpaper. Hot pink roses seemed to have been the main theme for the lobby. There were various black and silver picture frames with photos of pink roses hanging on every wall. On every surface my eyes could catch, red and pink plastic roses sat in circular olive green vases. It was certainly....something. I thought I was doing the most logical thing by coming inside, but it quickly dawned on me that I saw no one around.

"Hello?" I cautiously called out.

I paced myself as I walked up to the front desk, simultaneously looking around for any potential red flags. My right arm was going numb, my little guy was tiny but felt like I was lugging around a sack of potatoes. I wandered away from the desk to poke my head around the place. There was a entry way that led to a dinning area with a handful of seats adorned with of course pink table settings. I was standing next to a spiral staircase to what I assumed led to the rooms. There was only one door that held a sign for a bathroom. Perhaps there was a power outlet I could use long enough to charge my phone to call my dad.

The same door I walked in swung open and droplets of rain was blown in by the wind. A shiver rolled down my spine, sending a myriad of sparks that shot through my body. Turning around a strange sensation filled the pits of my stomach. It felt like butterflies and moths had taken up space there. Excitement and fear. I just stood completely mute like I had never seen a man before. Well to my defense I hadn't seen ones that look like him in my town. Without even seeing my reflection I had an inkling as to the state of my appearance. I was utterly perplexed by how he pulled off the kissed by an ocean look. To embarrass myself further of course my dog chose that moment to shake water off of his fur on to me.

"Really Coop?" I tried to hide my disgust, but he got it around the corner of my mouth! The good looking stranger offered a half smile that probably pitied my overall state.

"Is the black Kia parked out yours?" Even his voiced oozed sex appeal. He angled his frame so he could face me. There was about an arm length of distance between us. His eyes practically bore into my face I suppose waiting for me to say something. Must have been the buzzcut, the facial scuff, or the fact that some creep was still parked outside waiting to do who knows what. But my thoughts were not where they should have been.

I blinked and straightened up my posture. "Yeah why?" I finally answered.

It was a causal question, yet it felt completely random like there was something else to it.Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.The silence was so thick it would take a hacksaw to cut through.

"Well I'll be damned! I didn't think I would get to see you until after you got back from your trip in California." A woman most likely in her late sixties came rushing down the stairs for him. She draped her arms around his body clearly taking him by surprise. Her cotton candy colored pink bouffant made up for most of her height. Sebastian returned her embrace. Although it looked extremely awkward considering he stared at me the whole time and I stood there watching.

"Moe's old truck didn't give you too much trouble did it?" She asked.

"No it still got some life left in it." Sebastian's jaw went slack and he looked from her to me once more. Only this time he was looking at me with a cold glare. Realization suddenly crashed into me like a wild horse.

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shysneeze · 4 years

Text

persausion (part one)

George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

*part one*

Description: two years after she’s broken George’s heart at the hand of her parents’ persuasion, she bumps into George at the leaky and everything comes flooding back .

Warnings: alcohol, angst and I want to say swearing but I genuinely don’t think there is. It’s very AU. Fred is alive because he deserves to be (let me know if there is any ive missed please)

(Author note: not what i wanted it to be hence long ass delay in posting cause i got angry but hey ho. Also can you tell I’ve literally given myself a big fat crush on Fleur??”)

series masterlist

A giggle bubbles in (Y/N)’s throat as she sways slightly, arm hooked through Fleur’s as they struggle their way across the cobblestone of Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron in their heels. The winter air is crisp, and it bites at their bare skin. The plan was devised at the last minute and mostly fuelled by the buzz left from the bottle of wine they’d shared in (Y/N)’s apartment.

“It’s freezing!” Fleur shivers. “Why didn’t we bring jackets?”

“Excitement?” (Y/N) laughs with a slight shrug of her shoulder. “Probably the wine.”

“Definitely the wine.”

The woman burst into another fit of giggles, followed swiftly by a hiss of relief when they enter the warmth of the pub. They pause in the doorway together, long enough to fix each other’s hair and pull their dresses down. It’s not until they step further into the pub that (Y/N)’s smile begins to fade as the voices grow louder, and suddenly, she remembers why they usually stick to drinking in her apartment.

She can see it happening every time she steps in a crowded shop or in this case, pub, the exact moment that she goes from being a stranger in the corner of someone’s eye to (Y/N) Malfoy, first daughter of a notorious ex-deatheater. It’s no different this evening and her eyes sink to the floor when the whispering begins, already uncomfortable and longing to return to her apartment. Her change in demeanour doesn’t slip by unnoticed by Fleur who has already begun to fend off the dirty looks with a well-practiced glare of her own.

“Why is it so busy in here tonight?” Fleur sighs dramatically, standing slightly on her toes to see over the mass of people that are lingering around the bar without seats. “We’ll never get a booth!”

“How tragic.” (Y/N) makes an attempt to tease. “We’ll have to go back and drain the bottle of gin you got me for my birthday now.”

“No!” Fleur whines. “I have only just gotten you out of that apartment and I will not let you back out now. You’ll become a recluse!”

“Ouch.” (Y/N) pouts. “That’s harsh.”

Her own hurt at the comment is unconvincing to even (Y/N) herself as her pout soon turns into another bout of giggles. Fleur laughs with before returning to look out, searching every corner for somewhere to sit. She’s about to give up and reluctantly agree with her friend when she spots them.

“The twins!” She exclaims. “They’ll let us sit with them.”

Before she can even process what Fleur has said, they’re on the move again, Fleur’s dainty hand wrapped around (Y/N)’s wrist. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but as soon as they have (Y/N) comes to a halt instantly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. She doesn’t even try to explain herself when Fleur turns to frown at her, she’s already staring across the room where her eyes find George Weasley’s.

His eyes are just as wide, hand paused in mid-air with his pint halfway to his mouth, and for a second, all they can do is stare at one another. Then, his brows drop into a scowl and the look that falls onto his face is a jab straight to the heart for (Y/N). The disgust written all over his face forces the air out of her lungs and her hands to tremble nervously. She remembers back at Hogwarts, hidden away together in the astronomy tower or, after graduating, tucked away in his bed above the shop, how his eyes chocolate brown eyes were the only ones in the world that made her feel safe, the only ones that looked under her surname. Now, they make her feel nauseous with guilt as they bore into her own and she can’t even blame him.

“(Y/N), are you coming?”

Fleur’s question makes (Y/N) jump, turning back to her friend, mouth stuttering wordlessly as she tries to gather the sentences that she needs to tell her friend that she absolutely cannot sit with George Weasley.

“It’s only the two of them.” Fleur continues, hand slipping into (Y/N)’s. “They won’t mind.”

(Y/N) gives up on her protests and allows herself to be pulled towards the booth at the back because what is she supposed to tell her? How is she to explain that she can’t sit with her friend’s brother-in-law because three years ago, she broke his heart? No, she can only follow in silence with her eye firmly stuck to the floor. She already beginning to feel whatever confidence boost the wine had given her wearing off.

“Fleur?” She hears Fred exclaim, a drunken joyfulness in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to find a seat.” Fleur exhales a sigh as they come to a stop. “It’s so busy tonight.”

“Well, we’re not waiting on anyone else.” Fred states. “You and your friend can sit with us. We don’t mind, ay, George?”

There appears to be no response from George, though (Y/N) can’t bring herself to look up yet. Fleur’s hand slips out of (Y/N)’s as she goes to hug her in-laws and a sudden vulnerability hits (Y/N) at the lack of contact.

“I told you, (Y/N).” Fleur nudges her. “They’re fine with it.”

At the soft jab to her side, (Y/N)’s eyes filter upwards despite her own resolve to stare at the ground until it swallows her whole. She watches the recognition flicker across Fred’s face, smile forming a sort of ‘o’ shape. (Y/N) can only give him an apologetic look as she’s tugged into a seat across the booth beside Fleur.

“Hi.” She squeaks.

“Malfoy.” Fred manages, eyes drifting for a moment to his brother. “It’s been a while.”

“I forgot.” Fleur exclaims. “You were all in the same year back at Hogwarts, no?”

“Yes, we were.” (Y/N) manages quietly, sobering up faster by the minute.

“Yeah it’s been a while.” Fred agrees with an awkward grin. “How are you?”

The question is so clearly forced and (Y/N) can’t believe she ever believed that her and George had kept it all a secret from him years ago because now, two years later, it’s clear he knows everything and he’s just as annoyed as George is.

“I’m good.” She nods. “How are you two?”

“We’re great, right George?” Fred chuckles awkwardly.

Once again, George doesn’t reply and only raises his brows before downing the remaining contents of his pint. His glass is forced onto the table with slight thud and he gets to his feet without a word. Everyone at the booth watches as he silently makes his way towards the bar and all (Y/N) can do is purse her lips at the whole thing.

“Anyway…” Fred clears his throat. “I never realised you two were friends. How did that happen?”

(Y/N) can only hope her face portrays the gratitude she feels for him at this moment for that distraction. Rather than questioning George’s abrupt departure, Fleur jumps into explaining how she and (Y/N) met at (Y/N)’s shop and quickly became close friends, and Fred listens attentively, even in his intoxicated state, humming and a nodding at all the correct places.

“I never knew you owned a shop.” Fred blurts, leaning in slightly out of curiosity. “On Diagon Alley?”

“It’s tucked out the way somewhat.” She admits. “It’s just down the street from, um, your shop actually.”

She doesn’t quite know why she’d hesitated, as if bringing it up is incriminating in some way. It’s not of course, their joke shop is famous and not exactly subtle either, no one else would expect her not to know of Weasley Wizard Wheezes and no one seems phased by her mentioning it at all. Yet, a sudden anxiety hits her, as if acknowledging the shop is only a step away from revealing the secrets the apartment above it used to hold.

“Wow, I didn’t know that.” Fred exclaims. “What do you sell?”

“She does the best perfumes I’ve found here in Britain.” Fleur gushes.

“I guess it’s more of a boutique in a way…” (Y/N) confesses nervously. “I sell magically enchanted gift items of sorts.”

“Huh, I never imagined you doing that.” Fred admits. “Always assumed you’d be in the ministry.”

“Oh no, I’d hate to be stuck in an office all day.” (Y/N) shakes her head. “I like meeting people and making things with my magic that might make people smile.”

“That’s a bit like George and I.” Fred grins.

“Well, my roses tend not to bite.” (Y/N) jokes.

“Biting roses…” Fred begins to ponder. “That brilliant!”

“What’s brilliant?”

George has returned, face still devoid of a smile but no longer holding the same animosity it did earlier. It might have been years, but (Y/N) can tell he’s given himself some sort of pep talk at the bar. He slides carefully into his seat again, the contents of the glasses huddled in his arms sloshing dangerously up the sides. (Y/N)’s automatic response is once again to drop her eyes, afraid to meet his in case it takes her too far into the past again.

“(Y/N) just gave us a great idea for the shop.” Fred explains. “Roses that bite.”

“Hmm.” George hums uncommittedly.

He pushes a glass of wine towards Fleur once he’s sat, then, taking (Y/N) completely off guard again, he places a glass of wine in front of her, drawing her eyes up to meet his in surprise. His brows are peaked almost questioningly at her expression.

“T-thank you.”

With a shrug he turns away again, facing his brother as he bursts into a pitch for biting bouquets for Valentine’s day while Fleur giggles at his enthusiasm. (Y/N) fiddles nervously with the stem of her glass, watching the side of George’s face as he listens, eyes fixed on the smile that begins to tug at his lips over his brother’s antics.

It hurts.

It hurts to see him, a reminder of what she could have had if she hadn’t allowed herself to be persuaded to destroy it. She hasn’t got the right to miss him as much as she does, not after how she left him, with a poorly written letter full of excuses that she herself didn’t even believe. No, she deserves this cold shoulder, deserves much worse in fact. She almost wishes he’d just shout at her, to tell her exactly how evil she is.

“Thanks for the idea, (Y/N).” Fred announces, pulling (Y/N) out of her memories with a start.

“Oh.” She recovers. “I can’t really take credit. It’s all yours.”

“Me and George will have to come visit your shop sometime.” He continues. “It’s just across from us, George.”

George lets out another bored hum that makes his brother’s smile twist into an awkward grimace, brows tightened and frozen for a second as he considers how to recover from this.

“Don’t feel the need to go out your way.” (Y/N) mumbles. “It’s not all that exciting.”

“That’s not true!” Fleur bursts. “You’re being modest. Your products are fantastique.”

An embarrassed sort of smile creeps onto (Y/N)’s lips at this and Fred laughs a little at her shy expression at Fleur’s declaration. Fleur seems to be completely unaware of the fact that she’s made the entire evening that little bit more bearable for her. Fleur’s always doing these little things that make everything more bearable and (Y/N) has never been more grateful for their friendship.

“Thanks, Fleur.” (Y/N) smiles softly.

Fred picks up another conversation, one far less likely to lead to any awkward silences. It holds better than any of the previous conversations have this evening and (Y/N) considers that this is because it is mostly dominated by Fred and Fleur, not that she’s complaining. (Y/N) is quite content for the awkwardness to settle solely between George and herself, where it truthfully belongs, and not to interfere with Fleur’s evening, especially after she’d been so excited to get (Y/N) out of her flat.

She considers that, if nothing else, this evening will relieve her of her life sentence to become recluse as Fleur had suggested.

An hour or so later they find themselves walking together back along Diagon Alley, shivering in the cold and hobbling with blistered feet. With the end of the night within her grasp, (Y/N) can hold herself a little lighter, and she finds herself laughing honestly as she watches Fleur and Fred babbling drunkenly together. To her side, George hides a smile stubbornly under her gaze and now that they are far enough from earshot from the others, she takes a risk.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He asks, brows piqued quizzically.

“For not saying anything.” She expands. “I didn’t deserve that.”

He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a scoff before turning his head away from her, as if trying to hide his expression.

“I didn’t do it for you.” He states after a moment.

She knows this, it’s not a surprise. She’s suspected all evening that his lack of outburst and direct insult has been for the sake of his pride, for Fleur and for his brother, but certainly not for her, and so the knowledge doesn’t insult her. She’s glad in a way.

“I know.” She whispers. “But thank you nonetheless.”

She knows him well enough still not to push it any further and she quickens her pace to catch up with the others. They’re slowing to a stop in front of the twin’s shop and Fred flings his arms around both the Fleur and (Y/N)’s shoulder and pulls them into a hug.

“We need to do this again.” He announces.

(Y/N) can’t fault him in being as drunk as he is, not after he’s held the entire evening together so well. Instead, she laughs and nods as she pulls from his grasp. George is rolling his eyes at his brother, lips twitching into a sort of smile.

“Yes well, we need to invite Bill next time.” Fleur agrees. “He’ll be jealous to have missed it.”

“He does know you’re staying at mine, right?” (Y/N) asks, panic stricken for a second. “Neither of us are in fit state to apparate.”

“Of course.” Fleur assures dismissively. “You’ve sobered back to your worried self again.”

“Yes, but I’m no longer a recluse.” She retorts. “So, the evening hasn’t been all in vain.”

“I’ll take that achievement.” Fleur nods matter-of-factly. “Now, let’s go before we freeze.”

“Okay, okay.” (Y/N) chuckles. “Thank you for letting us share your booth.”

“Any time.” Fred curtsey’s mockingly. “Goodbye, Ladies.”

With a final eyeroll, (Y/N) loops an arm around Fleur’s waist and turns to make her way towards her own apartment.

As cliché as it may be, (Y/N) can’t resist the temptation to sneak a look behind her as they walk away, a last glimpse of the man she lost two years back. Expecting to see his back as he retreats into his apartment, she is startled to find him facing her, eyes capturing hers again. They’re not full of surprise or disgust as they had been at the beginning of the evening though. They’re the soft, brown eyes she remembers, the eyes that once held her hostage in the potions classroom, that shared secrets with only a glance across the great hall and that saw her as herself for the first time in her entire life.

Upon the realisation that his private moment has been witnessed, he turns away and follows his brother into the shop. A wave of tears stings her eyes before she realises what’s happening and they blur his retreating figure as they trickle down her cheeks.

“(Y/N)?” Fleur asks gently, coming to stop. “Are you crying?”

“Oh!” She jumps, turning back and forcing a painful grin. “It’s the sodding blisters. I hate heels.”

Fleur looks unconvinced, holding her friend’s eyes longer to try and decipher what’s caused this sudden bout of tears to spring loose. Frowning and with an almost imperceptible shake of her head, she lifts her hand and gently uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears from beneath (Y/N)’s eyes.

“You’ll ruin your mascara.”

Relief escapes (Y/N) in the form of a choked laugh. She’s amazed again at how perfect a friend Fleur is for not pushing her. She knows Fleur enough to know that she’s not let it go, but she’s willing to let (Y/N) come to her in her own time.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) sniffles. “I’m sorry for trapping you in my apartment all the time.”

“Nonsense.” Fleur dismisses.

“No.” She continues. “No, I’ve been selfish and scared. I’ll make an effort to be more adaptable in the future.”

Curiosity flood’s Fleur’s expression but a smile grows on her lips regardless and she lets out a soft, bell-like laugh. She hooks an arm through (Y/N)’s and guides the pair forward along the street again, huddled tightly to fight to bitter cold.

“You’re so formal at times.” She shakes her head. “Let’s get home and get your shoes off before you become a puddle.”

“Oh thank Merlin!”

#persuasion #george weasley x reader #george x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george #george imagine #fred weasley #fred and george #harry potter #weasley twins #weasley #malfoy #draco malfoy #fleur delacour #fanfiction #reader insert #malfoy reader

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yadds · 4 years

Text

Heyyyy so guess who’s not dead! Anyway, for anyone that’s interested, I’ve decided that I’m not posting ongoing works until I’m done with them then will post as I’m editing. Sorry! However, I do have an excerpt that I like a bit that can stand alone, so here it is! Also, despite the sexual nature of the initial conversation, this is pre-starker and isn’t really much about sex.

Minor background info: Tony has come back from the dead and is still with Pepper but they’re having issues. Meanwhile, the Starker bromance is developing and they hang out quite a bit.

____________________________________________________________________

“Spit or swallow?” Peter asked out of the blue as they sat on the couch watching reality tv.

Tony’s eyebrows were about to climb right into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Spit or swallow?” he repeated, over enunciating. “What are your thoughts?”

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about…” Tony trailed off slowly.

“You know, bjs. Blowies. I’m sure you’ve gotten one once or twice,” Peter said with a roll of his eyes, tossing several pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

“Yeah, might have happened on a rare occasion,” Tony responded dryly. “Well, honestly I can take it or leave it on the receiving end, doesn’t make that much of a difference to me.”

Peter’s head tilted back and forth, considering, before shrugging.

“When giving though, I generally don’t like either. Don’t get me wrong, I love going down on people and making them feel good, but I prefer if they don’t finish in my mouth. Obviously I’ve done it before and may very well do it again so I guess I’d probably say swallow? It’s already there, so why make a mess?”

Peter’s attention was now fully on Tony, the TV forgotten in the background. Tony glanced over and smiled wryly when he saw his gaping mouth and red cheeks. “What’s with the stunned mullet impression? Did you not literally just ask that question? Am I going senile already?”

Peter cleared his throat and turned back to face the tv again. “Uh, yeah, I uh I did ask. But I was thinking more on the receiving end - I wasn’t expecting you to talk about giving.”

One of Tony’s brows crept back up. “Oh? And why is that? Because you think I’m a selfish asshole in bed as well or because you think I’m shy?”

Peter shook his head quickly, not catching the amused tilt of Tony’s lips. “No, no of course not! I just didn’t know that you, uh, you know, partake, in partners of the, uh, male persuasion?” If Peter shoveled any more popcorn into his mouth after the desperate handful he just shoved in there, he was going to suffocate.

“Huh,” Tony said thoughtfully. Had they really never talked about this before? “Well, weird phrasing aside (because that was weird, kid, what’s up with that?), I thought it was pretty common knowledge that I was bisexual.”

Peter shook his head again, glancing back Tony’s way. “Nope, definitely not. At least not in any of the articles or interviews online. I mean, yeah, there are a few sources that mention the possibility of you not being completely straight, but they all sound like speculation.”

Tony was speechless for a minute. He watched Peter notice the extended silence and seem to realize what he just said, curling forward and burying his face in his hands, ears bright red.

He finally gathered enough wits to say, “Well, then I guess it was just common knowledge among people who actually know me. SI probably paid off the men I slept with - because heaven forbid the infamous playboy figurehead be seen with a man back in the day. I honestly never paid attention to what exactly was in the press, just made sure I was in it. If I’d known, I definitely would have been more blatantly obvious.”

He was quiet again for about five seconds before he pulled his leg up on the couch and fully turned towards Peter. “I’m sorry, I tried, but I can’t just let this go. I knew you were a big fan, but sounds like you’ve really done your research, Pete.” He couldn’t drop the shit-eating grin on his face.

Peter flopped all the way forward, shoving his face into his knees, groaning. “Can we not do this?” he whined. It only took another ten seconds of pointed silence before Peter broke. “Ugh, okay, so I may have had a crush on you when I was younger,” he admitted. “A teeny tiny, definitely not life-consuming, crush.”

Tony laughed. “And when was this?”

“I don’t know, it started when I was like 13 probably.”

“And you thought you should google my sexuality to see if, what, you had a chance with the guy four times your age that you’d never meet?” Tony didn’t think he’d been this amused in a long time.

Peter sat back up and peeked at him just to throw him a glare. “Yes, because thirteen year olds are so logical, especially when it comes to hormonal urges.”

“Never would have pegged you for being into older men.”

“Really? Because most people aren’t surprised - I apparently just radiate ‘twink with a daddy kink’,” Peter said matter-of-factly.

Tony choked, coughing loudly. “I’m sorry, did you just, in a roundabout way, call me a Daddy? In a way that has nothing to do with my daughter?”

“I- can we talk about something else now?” Peter squeaked.

“That...is probably a good idea,” Tony agreed, feeling his own cheeks heat.

They both stared very intently at the TV, trying to think of anything else.

After a while, Peter spoke up. “Why would you do it again?”

“What?” Tony asked, confused.

“Sorry, I’m back on the spit or swallow question,” Peter explained.

Now it was Tony’s turn to groan. “I thought we were talking about something else.”

“Yeah, something that’s not my personal and very embarrassing past. Now that I have the question, I can’t think of anything else.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. So why would I do what again, exactly? Give a blow job?”

“Well, I mean, that too, considering that you’re still with Pepper and I’m 99.9999% sure she doesn’t have the right equipment for that. But I was talking about spitting or swallowing. Why would you do either? You said you don’t like it.”

“Relationships are about compromise Pete, even in the bedroom. And I don’t hate it when I’m in the mood for it.”

“What a ringing endorsement,” Peter said flatly. “Yeah, there’s gotta be some compromise, but that should be more along the lines of maybe trying new things that you may not have done on your own but are open to. Doing something you definitively, straight up don’t like in bed should not be one of them.”

Tony looked at Peter, perplexed. “I...don’t even know what to say to that. When did you become an expert in this?”

Peter shrugged. “You’d be surprised how much of my time as Spiderman is spent just lending an ear when people are having a hard time. And sex and relationships come up a lot because I guess it’s easier to talk to a random person in a mask than to someone you know. I try to just listen and not to give advice most of the time, since I’m not an expert and everyone’s situation is different, but sometimes people are in circumstances that are dangerous, emotionally and mentally. So I took a couple relationship health and psychology classes my freshman year in college and read up on some of these things to know what to say.”

Tony’s heart warmed, hearing how earnestly Peter wanted to help people. He smiled softly. “Never thought you’d use that on Tony Stark, did you?” he joked.

Peter scoffed. “Please, you were like, the poster child for a lot of these issues. I like to think you’ve finally gotten wiser in your ‘old age’, but I’ve mentally given you several high-handed pep talks.”

Tony was taken aback. “Oh? And what was the subject of these pep talks?”

“Mostly self-worth and your complete lack of it.”

Tony chuckled again. “Well maybe you haven’t heard, but I actually have an unrealistically high opinion of myself, kid.”

“Yeah, do you think that if you keep talking about it loudly enough, you might start believing it?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised.

“Excuse me? I am one of the richest, smartest people on the damn planet. I single-handedly created a superhero while a prisoner in a cave. I created clean energy that can power the planet and I’m pretty sure I’m damn close to being able to end poverty,” Tony rebuked, getting irritated.

“I know, so why do you still feel like it’s not enough?” Peter asked with a shrug, pointedly not looking at him. “All those amazing accomplishments, things no one else would be able to do, but how often do you think about that instead of the few mistakes you’ve made?”

Tony crossed his arms. “Get out of my fucking head, kid,” he grunted.

Peter turned to him with a grin. “You think I should change my degree plan and become a shrink?”

“Definitely not. You’re pretty much done anyway and I need you in my labs, not consoling lunatics like me.”

Peter reeled back exaggeratedly. “You’re quite presumptuous, Mr. Stark, assuming I’ll be working for you.”

“You’d better,” Tony insisted.

“Is that a threat?” Peter asked cheekily.

“Definitely.”

Laughing, Peter settled back into the cushions and resumed his popcorn eating.

After several minutes of watching TV in silence, Peter turned back to Tony. “You know I still think you’re just as amazing as you try to say you are, right?”

Glancing at Peter out of the corner of his eye, he shook his head at Peter’s earnest expression. “No clue why,” he said wryly. “But yeah, I know. Thanks, kid,” Tony said, smile soft as his hand came up to grip the back of Peter’s neck before pulling him into a hug.

Tony cleared his throat and sat back before saying gruffly, “Now shut up and watch...whatever the hell it is you’re making me watch.”

Peter snorted but kept his mouth shut. And as he settled more comfortably under Tony’s arm, his back pressed up against Tony’s side as Tony’s arm draped across Peter’s chest, Tony had to wonder if this is one of the things Pepper had been talking about.

But as he felt the warmth of Peter pressed against him, felt the soft rise and fall of his breathing, felt the proof that Peter was alive and safe, Tony shook away the thought.

_____________________________________________________________________

So I’m starting to see a pattern - I tend to write like hell during the fall and winter and not during the summer at all. So apparently I have an off-season lol. Hopefully the pattern continues for the next few months and I can get a few projects finished!

#starker #pre-starker #starker endgame #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #idek #im so out of practice tagging #and i just don't care right now

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