#like girl that is the entire day gone what happened to elementary school when i was getting out at like. 2.

[camelspit]

me n the girls really do be doing anything except drawing

#lmao i have a maruca wip thats made almost negative progress the last 2 days #and that is. about it. #whenever i have free time i simply choose to read or sleep. #school has been sucking the life out of me #most week days my schedule is school. watch old episodes of bb australia. sleep. #does not help that school ends at 4 and i usually get home at 5 #like girl that is the entire day gone what happened to elementary school when i was getting out at like. 2. #do u think i can draw in these circumstances #wait actually! i have technically been doing art. #making a kids book for a childs lit class rn <3 its a remake of a book i made in 5th grade about a turtle named bob #putting my lifeblood into that project

[notiddygxthgf]

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since. 

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye. 

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.  

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character. 

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did. 

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless. 

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless. 

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt. 

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission. 

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm. 

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later. 

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man. 

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker. 

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them. 

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs. 

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year. 

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses. 

“Choso, baby.” 

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.” 

“You brought protection?” 

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker? 

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck. 

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks. 

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him. 

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him. 

Take that, Choso. 

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side. 

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south . 

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me. 

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger. 

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you. 

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori. 

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances. 

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform. 

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around. 

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door. 

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips. 

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room. 

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you. 

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs. 

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso #choso jjk #choso x reader #choso kamo xreader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #chousou #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuji itadori #itadori x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #choso smut #choso fluff

[ashes-writing]

b a k i n g | twilight ; p.lahote

** all images made by me. prompt credits go to the makers of the lists I used which can be found[ here ] [here] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [ here ] [here] [here]and [here] - a huge thanks to all the wicked talented creators of these prompt lists. **

𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 - 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐

↪ summary

---you're baking cookies at Em's and Paul shows up.. Pt 1 of 2

↪ pairing / fandom

--- fem!reader x Paul Lahote - Twilight.

↪ warnings

--- tooth rotting fluff. awkward flirting. Fluffy, kinda. Ft the ever popular dislikes him/her but we really secretly have crushes trope and an imprint bond.

↪ taglist, babes

--- my taglist is [here] if you'd like to be on it. huge hug to my bestie @tbmunson because we both needed this, tbh.

@krys-orion 

@moonileo

@m-rae23

@volturiwolf

The screen door bangs shut and you burst into your former babysitter’s kitchen, letting your backpack settle in an empty chair at the round dining table. Emily snickers quietly. “Rough day?”

“The worst, oh my god.” you drop into another empty chair dramatically. “I got partnered to work with the notorious Paul Lahote for a dissection during lab today. And naturally, the jerk plays sick and bails on school. Anything to get out of work, I guess.” you blow at the hair that’s fallen into your eyes.

Emily tenses just a little because she knows exactly why Paul had to leave school grounds and it had absolutely nothing to do with dodging the dissection you were stuck doing alone when he left and everything to do with you.

Apparently, when the teacher paired the two of you to work together, something about you awoke Paul’s inner wolf and he imprinted on you. And all day long, every time he thought about it happening, he’d scowl and grumble to himself because the two of you haven’t ever really gotten along at all. You’re quieter, you’re one of the ‘goody two shoes’ and aside from the imprint bond, there’s really nothing you share in common with him.

As soon as she realizes that you’ve gone on a tangent and you’re ranting in frustration about Paul and everything about him that annoys you, she laughs to herself and studies you a few seconds. “Oh my god, you have a crush on him.”

“Yeah, no. No, I do not. He’s Mr. Big Man on Campus, Mr. Ladies man. Nope, I’m good.” you’re digging around in the cabinets and sitting out all the ingredients needed to make a few batches of chocolate chip cookies for a bake sale you’re involved in and Emily is watching you and scoffing at your protests.

You pause with your hand raised partially to your mouth because you were about to eat a handful of chocolate chips. “What?”

“You really, really like him.” Emily giggles, smirking in satisfaction when you get flustered and you’re not able to look her in the eyes. And the confession slips out with a wistful and quiet, “But I’m a nerd and he’s.. Well, he’s him. Besides, I think he was less than thrilled to work with me today, I mean he blew off school entirely just because he had to… Boys don’t like girls like me and it’s okay.”

“They do. Maybe he does? Maybe he acts like a jerk around you because he really likes you?”

You’re the one scoffing at Emily now. “Right and the grass is blue and the sky is green. Not likely, Em.”

“You never know. I mean, I didn’t think Sam liked me at all.”

“Yeah well, you’re a knockout. I’m… Me? And like.. It’s not bad or anything, I just… I don’t see Paul Lahote going for me, the girl who regularly gets mistaken for one of the elementary kids.”

“You do not.”

“I do, Em. They tried to put me on the kids bus not even two days ago!” you insist dramatically and she laughs, shaking her head. You’re measuring flour into the cheery red mixing bowl and you’ve just poured the chocolate chips into the flour when the door bangs shut, making you jump a little.

“You?” you grumble, giving Paul an irritated look.

“Nice to see you too, half-pint.”

“Fuck yourself, Lahote.” you grumble, flipping him off. You swat at his hand with a wooden spoon when he tries to dip a finger into the cookie dough. “That has raw eggs, you fucking heathen!”

“And?” Paul asks through a mouth full of dough. “And, idiot, this is how you get salmonella.” You roll your eyes as you say it. But then Paul catches you sneaking a taste of the dough not even a few seconds later and he mimics your earlier tone, smirking at you the entire time he’s doing it. “That’s how you get salmonella, idiot.”

“Why the fuck are you even here, dude?” you whine, giving Emily a helpless look.

Paul studies you intently, stepping a little closer to you. The way he towers over you gives him a thrill, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t.

“Came to talk to Sam. Why the hell are you here, shortcake?”

“Stop calling me that, damn it. I have a name, Lahote.”

“Shortcake.” Paul deadpans, smirking down at you. You scowl at him in irritation and grumble “Asshole.” under your breath while rolling your eyes. “I’m here to make cookies for a bake sale. The fliers all over school?” you grumble yet again when all this produces is a blank look.

“If it’s not football, fighting or the cheerleaders, you’re not interested. Sorry.My bad.” you sigh and shake your head. There’s this look of disappointment in your eyes that both grates his last nerve because he assumes that you think you’re better than he is and at the same time, he wants to be better. To prove you completely wrong.

You grab for the pumpkin spice to go into the cookie mix and grumble to yourself offhand, “If I hear pumpkin spice one more time, I’ll scream, I swear it.”

Paul overhears you and chuckles quietly. You catch him dragging his finger around the batter bowl for the spice cake you have baking right now and you give him a little pout. “Hey…” your words trail off because you realize how close you’re standing to him when you turn around to face him completely -every intention on scolding him for what he’s doing, and you find yourself face to chest with him. You gulp and tilt your head slightly, gazing up at him. He chuckles again, staring down at you. “I make you nervous?” he questions, studying you intently. Almost like he's trying to stare into the depths of your soul.

“Pfft.. You wish you made me nervous, Paul Lahote. I’m not one of the cheerleaders, remember?” you say it in half-hearted teasing but when he picks up on the wistful tone to your words, he can’t help but stare at you, brows knit in confusion despite telling himself all day that he fully intends to fight the imprint bond because you’re too good for him and until right now, he had himself believing that you were at very least annoyed by him.

The strong notes of longing in your scent, though… They’re making him wonder if he wasn’t at least a little wrong.

Maybe there’s something here after all?

Maybe it’s worth finding out…

#paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote x fem!reader #paul lahote x fem!reader imagine #<- safe for everyone. a general tag for all my safe to read works. #-> female reader ; vague characterization {female parts + Quileute } #<- fall into fall 2022 writing

[blinkvlink]

i'm lying on the moon (my dear, i'll be there soon)

F!Detective x Adam du Mortain

Summary: life gets hard, Helena tries to hold on.

TW: Suicidal Thoughts, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm Themes

Read on AO3

1

'Love shouldn’t be made of fear.’ She read in her father’s journal. The leather was torn and dashed, on the cover. She had sunk her nails into it while she sat on her childhood room’s floor. ‘We should love with heart. Life is too short for anything else.’

She thinks he must have written that after meeting her. The woman with the dark brown hair, cold eyes yet soft hands. She can’t figure out how they work. She decides it’s due to not holding for a long time. From not caressing and pressing down. One doesn’t need to touch so hard and so long to push. It is a movement that happens in the blink of an eye after all. 

He must have noticed the need for bravery in the art of doting after he met her. After he saw the way she carried herself. She wonders if he listened close enough to hear the metal cling of her armor when she moved. Were the words written in an unapproving gaze? Or was he trying to find the courage within himself to love her despite who she was. It doesn’t matter, she thinks. In the end of the day, he fell for her, made space for himself in her heart. So big and so vast that with him gone, she is no longer whole.

We should love with heart, she wants to say to him, wants to beg on her knees, to scream it in his face. She thinks if she does any of that, she will find the power within herself too. But he leaves, slams the door shut. And she stays, a part of her still reaching out. 

‘You are so much like him.’ they all say, referring to both body and soul. Looking at the mirror becomes a chore. She bites down on the answer, blood and flesh alike. ‘No. I am not brave enough to love.’

*

Farah, the girl with eyes and heart of gold tells her jokes, keeps her heart light and soft. One day, after a long and never ending face painting event for the Wayhaven Elementary School, she sits her down and dips the thin tip of the brush to the yellow paint. Puts small dots on her nose, on her cheeks and she leans down, presses her lips to her forehead. Tells her she was made of stardust and light. Her words are confirmed when the young vampire flashes her a grin brighter than the sun, their laughter echoing like it will resonate within the four walls evermore.

“Are you giving up?” she asks one day, as they sit in front of the television. Jake Gylnhall starts screaming, she can’t make out a word he says. “Or did you already give up?”

Her feet are dangled in Helena’s lap, they are wearing pajamas and sipping on vodka and cherry juice. It burns as she swallows, sweet and bitter in her mouth. It has captivated the entire flat, the sharp scent. She can feel the bright gaze on the side of her neck. Her therapist who she last saw months ago would be disappointed in the counter question she hears within her own mind. ‘On what?’ 

“I don’t know.” she mumbles. Silence presses down, curious. “I don’t know.”

They leave it at that. She is forever grateful for it. 

*

He tells her about his family, and describes them in detail. Says he got his blond, shining hair from his father. The green belonged to his mother, a color he and his sibling shared. 12 years between them, yet Cecilia and him were the ones that looked alike the most, slightly different versions of each other. From their dimples to their laughs. He confesses, before he can stop it, that when he found her, bloodied and drained of life, he thought he was looking at his own corpse. And how he still wishes it was so.

She doesn’t-can’t- say anything as she reaches out, hand landing on his shoulder and she squeezes. His eyes blink shut, and she counts. 1,2,3…8 seconds to draw away from the touch, to hide himself behind all too familiar walls. He mumbles out words which she can hear but can’t understand and then he leaves like he does. She stands outside, barefoot, grass underneath. She doesn’t tell him that this is where she grew up, waiting. Doesn’t tell him how her own mother didn’t- couldn’t- look at her in the face because it was just so similar to his. She never had a body to look over and think she was staring into a lifeless version of herself, only reflections. All she had was photos and a single headstone she sat by, silent and hopeful. Besides, his eyes shine in every single captured moment her mother lets her see. So she can’t imagine him without a heartbeat, she just can’t.

*

The woman's face haunts her in her nightmares, her motionless body lying down at her feet as Helena stares at her hands, crimson red. He looks at her and screams. Asks 'What have you done?' She has made the wrong choice again. There is blood on her hands. Will it wash away if she drowns herself in the waters the woman touched with the tip of her finger?

'Forgive me, please-'

When she wakes up, her eyes are wet. She blinks the tears away before pressing her face down at her pillow, fingers grabbing the sheets so hard she is sure they will pierce through them. Guilt ripples within her like rain. She whispers thousands of little apologies until she falls asleep.

*

Nate keeps a close eye on her, watches her movements when he thinks she isn’t seeing. When she turns to face him, his smile is as bright, assuring. So is her’s. They mirror each other, talk about everything and anything. But when she looks somewhere else, she can see the way his face falls, from the corner of her eye.

She wonders if he can feel her slipping, feel her pull away, slowly. Can he hear when she thinks of retreating somewhere safe, somewhere warm? Is the dark circles around her eyes worse than she thought? The other’s don’t seem to think anything is wrong with her. They are all the same. So why isn’t he?

One night, she is on her way out from the warehouse when he stops her in the middle of the hallway. The clock on the gray wall shows 2 and her eyes burn from the lack of rest. Yet she gives it her all, chuckles at the beat and doesn't cross her arms over her chest. Shows him that she is open, that this is her and there is nothing hiding in the dark. 

When the small talk is over, he extends her a book. She takes it from his hands, slow and delicate.

“I recently finished it.” he says, his smile still lingering on his lips. She can’t help but break one as well, teeth and all. “I remember you saying you wanted to but didn’t know what to read. I thought this might help you get back into the habit.”

She turns the book around, stares at the brown pages. It's old. She can tell. And not 10 years kind of old. 50 or 70 years perhaps. Pages that were around when she wasn't.

“Thank you.” she chimes, looks him in the eye. That's when his smile falters. Slowly. 

“Are you okay, Helena?”

It's like a bullet finding its target, sudden and painful. Her entire body works together to keep the smile she wears afloat. She plays the scene well. 

“Yes. I’m okay.”

*

Chemistry class, 10 in the morning. Her eyes stared down the window of the second floor and she imagined the fall. The screams and the terror and the bone and the flesh. Skull cracked open like an egg, eyes watching the sun go down from both where it belonged and from somewhere further, where no one could see. Seeing from above as they buried her upon her father, soil traveling down her throat as insects diminished her form. A surrender of sorts, to the arms of the only one who would not be scared of the love within her that wants to bloom out of her.

She decided against the idea, in the end. There was no telling if it was all certain. And she needed a promise, needed the word of something greater that if she took the risk and she did the deed, his smile would be guaranteed.

Yet time changed her, touched her and set her aflame. She took the risk, swallowed it down and lied down on her bed. It was night time, outside there were a thousand stars ready to welcome her home. She was 17.

 

*

The unusual stillness within her mind let itself wander into places it couldn’t before because it was so focused on surviving. She recalled the day where she and her were in the armory of the warehouse, where her dear mother told her that she had no idea about the details of her father’s death. That she didn’t have the clearance for it at the time. And that caused conflict in her mind. How could a chamber member not be in the clearance to know the details of their own husband’s death?

The rest is still blurry, she notices. The walk to find Rebecca, the fight itself. The only thing she actually remembers from it all is the way her face twisted when Helena blurted out the connection she made. She is pretty sure, however, that’s when she started screaming.

*

What took her to show up was her heart stopping and being started again by force.

*

Things happen, things escalate. It slides down her throat like water until the bottle is empty, a perfect resemblance to what she feels as her head gets lighter and lighter. But something is pulling her down. A tug, to the gentle floor and beyond that, to the soil. She let’s it take her. And that’s when he finds her. Lying down on the carpet, eyes red. Heart clawing at her chest to jump out and end it all.

When he carries her to her room, he calls her detective. Anger burns her more than the alcohol did. She tells him to fuck off.

“I don’t have time like you do.” she whispers, tears sliding down. She is trying to push herself away but it’s in her blood to pull, to stay and to hope. When he grabs her arms and tries to keep her steady, she notices her hands are not like his. Hers are wounded, unsmooth. How long has she been grabbing at things that leave her bleeding, alone? Where does it all begin?

 “When will you kiss me? When my heart stops and my eyes lose the light within them? Will you tell me you love me when my headstone is placed on my grave? Or will you wait until there is nothing left but bones just to be sure?”

She hates that she loves the way his body responds to the questions, the way his muscles tense as if something pierced his skin and found its way underneath. She wants to dig deeper, tear muscle by muscle. Wants to look him in the eyes and asks if it hurts. But he opens the door, lays her down. His green eyes shine with unshed tears underneath the fairy lights she forgot to turn off. And then he leaves. He leaves, he leaves, he leaves-

“You said you were not strong enough to break again.” she whispers from behind him. She trusts that he will hear every word. “It didn’t matter, did it? You broke me instead.”

*

They don't talk about it, they let it die. He doesn't let it get to him. A soldier through and through. 

She can feel its ghost haunt her though. And she can swear there are scars behind the curtain. A few months ago, she would have reached out and asked if she could help, knowing she opened them. But now, she watches him as he walks and keeps her mouth shut. God knows she said all she could say to him.

*

She is still there, barefoot. She waits, silent.

*

Old habits greet her like old friends. It feels as if they have been waiting at the edge of her mind, patiently, looking out for the moment where she would bend enough to break. She settles into them, closes her eyes, tries and fails to ignore how easily the smoke rolls down her throat, as if the last time she allowed herself to inhale it wasn’t 3  years ago. She ignores the gutting feeling of hunger until she can't form a single thought, starves herself and pushes her limits. 

She takes away seconds from her future to feel the warmth which she just can’t seem to find in the people she wants to find it in the most. Punishes herself for things she knows she didn't do. 

One day, Morgan catches her outside, cigarette between her two fingers. Her brows rise, seemingly not being able to hide the shock. She collects herself quickly though, and calls Helena a hypocrite. She laughs and agrees before swallowing the smoke like it's water. 

They are returning from the facility back to Wayhaven when she grabs her arm and stops her from walking towards the car. Her touch is soft, like the way she would want to be held. And her usual wolfish appearance is softened at the edges by worry. Nose wrinkled as if the words she is about to speak are sour upon her tongue. Nate and Farah keep walking, leaves crunching beneath their feet as they do. 

“Don’t do this to yourself.” she whispers, knowing damn well the other two will hear. She practically spits it out from between her teeth, canines sharp as she sneers and frowns at the same time. “It’s hurting you, he is hurting you, Hel.” 

She is partially both happy and sad that he is not there with them to hear her speak. He is still deep underground, walking the halls of the facility with her, running errands and discussing plans. She doubts he would do anything if he heard any of the things Morgan said, doubts that he would give her anything other than a pained glance before he hid himself away again. It’s what he did, as they were leaving. Brown and green met for the shortest moment, he was saying a thousand words in that gaze, singing a thousand songs. She wanted to lean forward- her very soul was pulling her forward to hear them, hear every single thing he held in his grasp before he deafened her again, left her scared and abandoned in the dark. 

Her lips part to say something, to say anything. To say that she doesn’t care or doesn’t mind. That she understands. But it doesn’t come out. She is out of lies to birth.

“I-”

“Helena. I care about that stupid brick of a man. I do. But I care about you too.” she meets her eye and gives it to her straight. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Do you hear me?"

There is something else there, she doesn’t let it roll off of her tongue but says it anyway. 

‘It’s going to kill you. He will be the death of you.’

Tears. She hates herself, she does. All she can do is nod as she feels the lesson being burned into her existence once more. Morgan doesn’t say anything about the way her face shines. She simply squeezes her shoulder, and keeps her walking. Keeps her moving. Her hand remains on the edge of her neck until they reach the car.

Exhaustion creeps up on her, strangling her in the back seat. When she is defeated, she lets her head fall on the vampire’s shoulder, eyes fluttering close. They both know neither of them will tell a word about how Morgan places her own head upon Helena’s. It’s a silent agreement. She keeps the oath close to her heart as street lights linger on them for a mere moment and then pass like kisses from a lover. 

#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #a du mortain #adam du mortain #twc 3 #the wayhaven chronicles book 3 #twc rebecca #farah hauville #twc detective #nate sewell #twc morgan #twc fic

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

When in Bali...

Summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it?

Beginning Notes: I was thinking about @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie’s fic challenge when I came up with this, but Bali sadly wasn’t on the prompt list. Still hoping that this'll do as good as Sandcastles.

Tagged: @bragisrunes @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey @batmandallyboy (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

This summer holiday has been nothing short of awful. First, you catch your partner cheating on you two weeks before you’re supposed to fly, then you find out you can’t get your money back, and then, a wheel broke off of your suitcase. It’s a wonder you even made it to your resort alive.

Now, you’re at the pool, nursing a Mojito in hopes of soothing your heartbreak. There aren’t many people around. Most of them are probably going out. An elderly couple is suntanning across from the pool, there’s two kids throwing a ball in the shallow area and a guy at the bar that looks weirdly familiar. He’s practically devouring his chicken wings and you swear you know him.

The second you start looking away, the two of you make eye contact, and he gives you a bright smile, before returning to his wings.

It happens a few more times in the following days. Each time you see him, there’s this feeling you know him. But from where?

On your fifth day there, you eat dinner at the hotel’s buffet. You haven’t gone out once, either moping at the pool or your room. What’s the point without any company?

You grab this and that off the buffet, only avoiding the shrimps that look a little gray and the chocolate you’re saving for later. At your table, you’re completely alone, and you feel like you’re back in high school.

The stranger walks in, which confuses you, because you’ve seen him leave this hotel with a blond man a bunch of times while you were still lying at the pool. He hasn’t eaten here while you were there, not once.

Every table around you is deserted, and he still makes a beeline for yours. You send a silent curse to any god there might be but put on a friendly smile.

“Hey.” He says. “Saw you sitting all alone, and I thought I’d join you.”

“Hi.” You reply.

“I’m Hvitserk, by the way.” He tells you, holding out his hand. You pause. Hvitserk isn’t a common name, and you’ve only heard it once in your entire life.

You’re sitting on the beach near your parents, trying to save this sad sandcastle when you hear a shriek. Turning around, you see a blond girl your age throwing a crab into the sand after picking it off her leg, before running after a tall boy who’s laughing with sibling-appropriate malice.

“Hvitserk!” she screams. Behind her, a boy with dark hair cackles loudly, before the boy next to him elbows him.

The boy that is being chased runs up to you.

“You have to hide me!” he says, sitting behind you. “My sister is crazy!”

The blond girl that was chasing him isn’t impressed, crossing her arms to show that she can still see him, before she stalks off. You spent the rest of the afternoon ‘hiding’ Hvitserk and building more sandcastles. At some point, the darkhaired boy that was his younger brother crawled over, critizing your castle.

Third-grade you was crushed and immediately entered a sandcastle building contest with him, with Hvitserk as judge. For the rest of your stay in Spain, you and Hvitserk were inseparable.

Quickly, you shake it. “Y/N.” you reply. “Are you from Norway?”

“Yeah, I am actually.” Hvitserk says.

“That’s pretty far.” You comment.

“What about you?” Hvitserk asks.

“I’m studying in Australia, so Bali isn’t too far.”

“You’re really familiar.” Hvitserk blurts out suddenly. You laugh dryly.

“Does that line usually work for you?”

“No, I’m serious.” He insists. “Were you in Spain for summer vacation? Like in elementary school?”

“No fucking way.” You say. “You’re Hvitserk Lothbrok?”

He nods, and your mouth falls open. “Oh my god. I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.” He says, making his voice a little too deep to be serious.

“How are Ubbe and Ivar? And Brynhildr and Aslaug?”

“They’re all good.” Hvitserk says. “But Brynhildr is actually called Sigurd. He’s trans.”

“Oh so he’s the blond guy I thought was your boyfriend.” You reply. Hvitserk grimaces.

“Ew, no! He’s my brother.” Then, he smirks. “Wait, have you been stalking me?”

“No.” you protest. “Well, maybe a little bit.”

“Are you saying I’m goodlooking?” Hvitserk asks, casually taking a fry from your plate.

“I’m saying that I’m heartbroken and bored. And yes, you are semi-attractive.”

Hvitserk makes an insulted noise. “All these years of friendship and you call me semi-attractive.”

You laugh, sliding your plate to him, which he happily accepts.

“Fine. Hvitserk, you are so hot and sexy that you’re making me forget why I ever dated my ex in the first place.”

“Good.” Hvitserk says. “What are you doing in Bali anyway?”

“Non-refundable one year anniversary trip.” You grimace.

“Ouch.” Hvitserk nods sympathetically.

“What about you?” you ask. It’s nice catching up with Hvitserk. He’s exactly like you remember. Well, maybe a bit more flirtatious.

“Yearly Aslaugssons trip. Except that Ubbe has a kid on the way and doesn’t want to miss his daughter’s birth.”

“I haven’t seen Ivar around.” You comment.

“He’s kind of turned into an edgelord so he refuses to leave his room to tan. Sigurd’s out with his fiancé today, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

“Did I look that sad?” you ask. After a pause, Hvitserk nods, before you both burst into laughter.

“You should come with us tomorrow. I’ve convinced Ivar to come along for drinks and tacos, and he’s taking his girlfriend. Sigurd’s taking his partner. Why don’t you come as my date, so I’m not alone?”

“I don’t know.” You say. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Ivar and Freydís will be very preoccupied, but Sigurd’s partner is a treasure. They’ll love you; I promise.”

You think about it for a second. It could be fun, and your ex cheated. It’s okay to go as a platonic date for Hvitserk three weeks post-breakup.

“Please?” Hvitserk asks, making puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. But only because you let me win against Ivar when my sandcastle was falling over.”

***

Why are you feeling so nervous? It’s only a night out with an old friend of sorts. You’ve put on the dress that was meant for your anniversary dinner, a long bodycon dress that makes you feel pretty even now, when you’re feeling out of sorts.

You kept your makeup simple because Hvitserk casually forgot to tell you the dresscode, but it doesn’t matter because you managed to tan enough that it made you look just a little bit refreshed.

Hvitserk knocks at your door right on time – which surprises you. You’d think that Ivar would be perfectly punctual, and Hvitserk ten minutes late at the very least, but he’s there, and he’s smiling brightly, just like he did when he was still a kid.

“Hi.” You say, grabbing your purse off the desk and closing the door behind you. “How’s your day?”

“Getting better and better.” Hvitserk jokes, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious, you’re looking good.” He insists.

“I better. Spent at least an hour overthinking this dress when I bought it.”

“Yeah. Would be a pity if the dress went to waste.” Hvitserk murmurs, before he lets you out of the room and leads you to the entrance of the resort. There, Ivar and Freydís are already waiting.

“I thought Hvitserk was talking shit when he said that the Y/N was also in Bali.” Ivar greets you. He’s standing upright now, supported by legbraces and crutches.

“Still salty about my sandcastle being better than yours?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“Mine was clearly better. I’d say the judge was only a bit partial.”

“Freydís.” His girlfriend introduces herself.

“Y/N.” you answer. “Where’s Sigurd?”

“Him and Gale are already there. They said they wanted to enjoy the music a bit before Hvitserk begins ordering the entire menu.” Ivar replies. Hvitserk snorts, absentmindedly grabbing your hand as the four of you start walking. You blush furiously, but don’t let go. Not quite yet.

The restaurant is right at the beach, and a stranger comes bounding up as soon as you cross the threshold.

“You guys are just on time.” They announce. “Sigurd wanted to start ordering appetizers, even though that’s clearly Hvitserk’s assigned job.”

They go around hugging everybody and hug you too. “You must be Y/N.” they say.

“Yeah.” You reply.

“Sigurd told me you gave him your dessert once after Hvitserk ate his while he was in the restroom.”

“That was only because he braided her hair so nicely.” Ivar says sarcastically. So Sigurd and Ivar are still always fighting. You think.

Gale leads you to the table, where Sigurd is talking to a waiter. He hands Hvitserk the menu blindly, whose eyes immediately lights up. Ivar was right – Hvitserk orders six out of the eight appetizers on the menu.

“How are you going to eat all that?” you ask.

“My stomach knows no bounds.” Hvitserk replies. You all sit down, and Sigurd hands you a drink.

“It’s good to see you.” Sigurd greets. “I ordered a Mojito for you. Hvitserk mentioned you were obsessed.”

“Good to see you too.” You reply, before you turn to Hvitserk. “I am not THAT obsessed with Mojitos.”

“Yeah, you only had them each time you ordered from the poolbar.”

“Who’s the stalker now?” you fire back.

Appetizers come and go, as well as the main course, and Hvitserk keeps true to his promise, devouring everything that comes near his plate. At some point, Gale decide that they are full, and Hvitserk happily accepts their plate.

You catch up with Sigurd, since Ivar is making hearteyes at Freydís, who is talking to Gale and Hvitserk. He tells you all about the things you missed since Spain. From Ivar’s braces and his transition to Ubbe and Bjorn setting the BBQ on fire during a family reunion.

At the end of dinner, everyone except Hvitserk is stuffed, and getting ready to head back to the hotel.

“You and Y/N should stay, have dessert and catch up some more.” Freydís suggests, throwing Ivar one of those looks that only your longterm partners or siblings can understand. However, Ivar’s mouth not-so-subtly tugs into a smirk.

Before you can protest, all four of them are gone, Ivar handing Hvitserk some money for the check, who happily accepts while reading through his dessert options.

“Let’s share.” He suggests

“Share food? With you?” you say, only half-joking.

“We shared your fries.” He reminds.

“That wasn’t really decided by me.” You laugh. He hands you the menu, pointing out both options. In the end, you go for lava cake with vanilla ice cream, and Hvitserk scoots closer as the waiter brings a last round of drinks, courtesy of Ivar.

“I’m actually getting hungry for dessert.” You tell Hvitserk. What you don’t tell him is that all those drinks have made you slightly tipsy and Hvitserk is starting to look even better than before.

“And my stomach knows no bounds?” Hvitserk asks. You groan, leaning back against him.

“I think eating even more is a shit idea, but I really love lava cake.” You admit. Hvitserk puts an arm around you, and you don’t mind at all.

“Did you know I had a crush on you in Spain?” Hvitserk suddenly blurts out. You sit back up, staring at him.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s true!” he insists. “Honestly, I can understand younger me perfectly.”

You laugh, but you feel yourself growing nervous – in a good way. For a moment, you think back to your ex, but honestly, the feelings for them haven’t been very strong for a few months already.

“So you’re saying you have a crush on me now?” you ask. Before Hvitserk can answer, the waiter sets down the dessert. You both dig in, and holy fuck – it’s good.

“I take it back, eating this is a great idea.” You say between bites.

“I might have a crush on you now.” Hvitserk says after swallowing his first bite. Surprised, you cough, some of the cake getting stuck in your throat. Hvitserk smacks your back, until you can breathe again.

“Couldn’t that wait until I had swallowed?” you ask, your eyes teary.

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. Want me to kiss it better?”

You had forgotten how forward Hvitserk was.

“Uhh...” you mumble. “Sure?”

He leans forward, softly kissing you. You almost protest when he pulls back. You finish the dessert in comfortable silence, and on the way home, Hvitserk holds your hand again.

Dutifully, he drops you off at your hotel room, but before he can go, you pull him down to kiss him. After a few seconds, Hvitserk deepens the kiss, and holy fuck, he was an amazing kisser. Out of breath, you break apart.

“I’ll see you at the pool tomorrow?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He says. “I guess I should go to Bali more often, if it turns out like this.”

#hvitserk #ivar #freydis #sigurd #ivar x freydis #sigurd x oc #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk x y/n #hvitserk x you #vikings #ivar the boneless #history vikings #ivar lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitty #hvitserk imagine #modern au vikings #modern!hvitserk x reader #sigurd is trans #original non-binary character #cherry pie’s hot fic summer

[bluiex]

Okay so grian‘s backstory as I understand it I might not have all the information it has been a while since I’ve watched Sam gladiator but let’s do this it’s 12 o’clock I’m very tired.

So grians life that we see the start of, starts off with him being sent to Japan for elementary school where he is entered into school as female  now we see him consistently state that he is not a girl now you can take this as trans or his parents being neglectful this is where he meets Sam the bunny hybrid and taurtis the human (I don’t think it is stated anywhere that he is a hybrid)  No shenanigans insue and grian is pulled from school and take him back to England.

The next time we see him And sam gladiators yandere high school Series it’s a weekend and he’s coming to visit his friends for like the weekend it’s very normal they go on a beach day and then Grian goes back home

Grian then comes back for Halloween and this is where things start going crazy So buckle up buttercup they go around trick-or-treating with their friends from high school I’m not bothering to name everyone and at the end of the night they going to the “haunted school” Which is actually Haunted Sam goes crazy pull the knife out and stabs taurtis In the gut and then runs off into the night Grian manages to get taurtis onto a bus to take him to the hospital and they never make it the bus crashes and then someone calls 119 and they survive now taurtis is missing and is a John Doe but no one knows this and Sam has gone a bit cuckoo and is convinced that Grian is taurtis and has now basicallykidnapped him trying to gaslight him into believing that he is taurtis (Sidenote just for angst purposes Sam also force-fed Grian into eating Doritos cool ranch plastic bag included I hc that Grians has a eating disorder because of that) they find taurtis who has amnesia from the bus crash and is convinced his name is Jerry no matter what Grian says no one believes that Jerry is taurtis Sam somehow gets them in debt with the gang and then inducted into said gang They get in to witness protection which doesn’t last long and then they excepted into the police not the police academy into the police they are then given guns and told to arrest the yakuza that they were in Taurtis this memory is returned and Grian is finally able to leave swearing up and down to never talk to them ever again…. This does not last long

A bunch of things happened and they are moved to a new high school Sam Taurtis Grian and Domrao 

In this timeframe in order , to the best of my memory, Because I do not feel like watching all of Tokyo ghoul sam gladiators role-play again

The roommates Somehow, taurtis gets cloned multiple times, Sam picks a fight with a store manager for not hiring him, The clones are turned into slaves and they have to free them, Somehow get a new teacher who is the chupaca, they fight storm troopers, they meet the “ Queen of England” who is really just Lizzie or LD shadow lady, They run from the cops (again), meet an alien, Get drafted by the government to kill the aliens, The terminator is there I forget what he’s for, Taurtis turns into one punch man for a bit, Then they summon Cthulhu, some more things happen that aren’t really necessary knowledge for Grian but the Important thing you need to know is that Sam makes a deal with Cthulhu to end his entire dimension existence except for his house and his three roommates.

From here this is head canon until We get to the point where grian starts uploading videos and I will tell you when we get there





Now my head canon is that Grian also makes a deal with Cthulhu to learn magic so we can make a portal into a Minecraft hub server and takes taurtis and Domrao with him leaving Sam behind (for the better really that boy was crazy)

Grian and gang getting away from Sam’s abusive clutches clutches now trying to figure out how to navigate the server hubs this is where Grian discovers his love for a building and starts playing build battle and where he first meets pearl he then goes on to work for a recording company building their sets until the company dissolves and he just goes back to freelancing until he saves enough up to buy his own creative world and starts posting tutorials and start building a little Community he starts playing built swap with Taurtis and some new friends that he made then he gets the idea to make Evo

I haven’t watched evo yet so I know the concept but I haven’t watched it so we’re basically out of headken and territory now

Things happen tortoise leaves the server but they’re still friends and they still talk green makes evil with pearl and a bunch of new friends that he made where he starts discovering how much he likes pranks and how chaotic he actually is the near the end of the server the watchers come and all of that stuff happens I don’t know the specifics of this time period

Blah blah blah he meets mumbo they get to know each other very well and then Xisuma on mumbo‘s recommendation gets invited to hermit craft

And the rest is history!

Grians life is so traumatic I love it so much

This isn’t very cohesive but it is almost 1 o’clock I spent an hour on this I will not be editing this

good night

~🐍

Wow. That is A LOT XD but thats pretty crazy. Some of that I went like OH thats where that came from! (from reading fanfics that like hint at that stuff) really cool! thank you so much! :D

#long post #bluie gets an ask poggers

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 4 - Awkwardness Ensues

Ophelia uses her next paycheck to buy a violin, since she knows the Laurents expect her to be decent at it before she can work for their wedding band. She's not exactly a natural. Her ears are relieved when Libby invites her to hang out with her and the BFFs

The weather is terrible, but this Garden and Cafe that Libby invited Ophelia to is pretty cool. They're the first to arrive.

Ophelia: Did you get a makeover?

Libby: We were actually just on Dream Home Decorator! The host said we had to to be on TV.

Ophelia: Harsh

Travis is the next to show up. He seems weirdly nervous but the girls' lively conversation perks him back up.

Ophelia learns that the BFFs have known each other since elementary school. How do you make friends in a rabbit hole, Ophelia wonders?

Libby eventually wanders off to shop, leaving Travis and Ophelia alone.

Ophelia: So Libby told me this place has amazing pie.

Travis: The best. It's up in the second cafe.

Ophelia: Second cafe? Whoever built this place went all out!

Ophelia: Wow, you ate your slice before I even sat down.

Travis: Sorry, I'm just a little nervous.

Ophelia: About what?

Travis: ...Maybe after you're done we should talk someplace more comfortable. And better lit.

Travis: I think there's a real connection here, something that I haven't felt in a long time. I... I wanted to ask you... to be my best friend.

Ophelia: ...what?

Travis: ...Yeah. Y'know, best buddies. Super amigos... A third thing.

Ophelia: This is literally the second time we've met. You've known Summer and Libby since you were kids. Don't you think that's kind of insulting to them?

Travis gets up, very PO'ed.

Travis: You barely even thought about it before you clicked the No Way option! My parents met, fell in love, and got married in 8 hours and you won't even be my best friend after two days?

The woman was too stunned to speak.

Travis: It's not even what I was originally going to ask you, but now I'm glad I didn't.

Ophelia: Well, what WERE you going to ask?

Travis: ...Forget it. I was just trying to be nice to someone who's new in town. See you around.

Ophelia: ...Okay.

By the time Ophelia gets downstairs, Travis is gone. She doesn't know what to do... so she steals an entire pastry display. Not the best coping mechanism, girly.

Right after swiping, Summer runs in!

Ophelia: It was gone when I got here!

Summer ignores her.

Summer: OMW, what happened?! I just saw Travis storm off! Did him asking you out go that badly?

Ophelia: Wh-What are you talking about?

Summer: I've never seen him that upset! Couldn't you at least have let him down a little more nicely like I did with your brownies?

Ophelia: Summer, I don't know what you're talking about! Travis didn't ask me out. He asked me to be his best friend.

Summer: ...he what.

Ophelia: I swear, I had no idea he felt that way. He's never even done a romance interaction with me.

Summer: Oh My Watcher, that dummy. All last night he kept going on and on like "I'm really going to do it this time, I'm not going to chicken out like I did with Alex Moyer!"

Ophelia: I didn't mean to hurt his feelings.

Summer: He hurt his own feelings by being a goober. He has to learn to say what's on his mind. I'll talk to him later, calm him down. I don't want things to be weird between all of us.

Maybe Summer wasn't so bad after all.

I forgot to mention along with the pastry display, Ophelia also stole a whole sign from the cafe, lol

They're not worth much, so she keeps them for decoration considering she couldn't afford any when she first moved to Willow Creek. Maybe one day she can steal a decent TV.

Ophelia also treats herself to a non-stolen speaker, so the music-loving Sim can make housework a little more fun.

It was getting too quiet, but alas, that's the life of a single, first generation Sim.

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #The Sims 4 Legacy #The Lemon Legacy #TS4 #The Sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 #generation 1 #travis #libby #summer #ophelia

[jessicawhitebooks]

You can never get over some things, no matter how hard you try to move on with your life.

Stuck to the corner of my mirror like it was the day I left, the photograph of me and Dom at our last high school dance smiled back at me. For the third time since I came home yesterday, I was in tears over it. Still, I just couldn’t bring myself to put it away.

My hands flapped at my face, and I blew air up into my eyes to dry them as I took one step back to look myself over. “For criminy’s sake, Faith. He’s been gone twenty years. It’s time to let him go.”

Sitting at the edge of the bed I slept in as a child, I bent over to put on my designer open-toed heels I spent half my paycheck on.

I was a different person than the little girl who left this room last time, and the whole world was less terrifying from this grown-up woman’s perspective.

The house I once was so embarrassed by was now a treasure chest of happy memories. Smiling at the tiny crack in the window’s corner, I conjured up the image of Dom climbing through it to hold me until I went to sleep when I was too scared.

There was a time when Dad and I only passed each other in the kitchen when he came home from work and I left for school each morning. But he retired from the old quarry six months ago, so he had a few minutes to make sure I got a cup of coffee to take with me. “Good luck today, Faithy.”

I kissed his cheek and picked my folded-over pink fitted blazer off the back of the chair. “Oh, thanks. But it’s not really an interview or anything.”

After I worked the sleeves over my arms, I pulled my hair free from my collar. “I already signed the contract. This is just a meet and greet.”

He curled his lips under as he dug behind his ear and leaned into the kitchen sink. “Yeah, but...” His hand flipped away as he sighed. “You’re bound to run into some folks you used to know, and I’m sure there’ll be lots of questions.”

I reached for the cup and hooked my purse over my arm. “It’s okay. I’m ready.” Tugging the door open, I spun around to wave at him as I backed outside. “Love you. See you later.”

Walking to my dream car I paid cash for when I sold my business a few weeks ago was cool and all.

But it was nothing close to my excitement when Dad and Dom pulled the tarp off the old one they fixed up for my eighteenth birthday. Glancing back in the rearview mirror at the ghosts in the garage windows, I kissed my fingers. “I hope you’re happy wherever you are, baby.”

As soon as I turned left onto the road into town, I found the playground up on my right and my foot slid off the gas pedal for a moment as I spaced out a bit.

A little girl at the fence waved at me as my car trickled by, and I wiggled my fingers back at her. “Aren’t you a cutie pie?”

I was glad to see someone cut down that old scary tree, leaving only a stump behind for the kids to take turns jumping off of. But even gone, it was still a constant reminder that I’d thrown away the greatest thing that ever happened to me. “What an idiot you are.”

Happy, colorful drawings lined the elementary school windows, and I whimpered as I sped by them. “Your kids would have been close to starting high school by now.”

Though I worked at some of the biggest healthcare facilities in the entire country until last month, preparing myself to step inside this tiny four-floor building had my heart fluttering and my hands freezing like I’d never set foot in a hospital before. “Pull yourself together.”

As I inched along the parking lot, I pulled my standard old lip balm from my bag and swiped it across my bottom lip. “No one will probably even remember you, anyway.”

I dropped the tube back into my bag and pulled into the first spot I came to. “Hardly anyone knew who you were back then.”

Perfumed with blooming jasmine, tiny white petals floated down over me as I walked up the sidewalk.

The glass doors parted for me, and I stopped to straighten my hair in the gift shop window until a man with silver streaks at his temples came into view beside me. “Miss Bennett?”

I peeked over my shoulder and smiled at him as I turned around and held out my hand. “Mister Stryker?”

Immediately grabbing it, he flicked his eyebrow at me and urged me toward the elevators. “It’s great to meet you finally. How was the drive back home?”

Walking down the hall was like flipping through the yearbook on my bookshelf, surprisingly. So when the lightbulbs clicked on my old classmates’ heads, I gave each face a nod or a smile as we passed them. “Very long. So, I’m glad I never have to leave again.”

He leaned over to push the up button. “Are you getting settled in okay?”

We both peeked up at the lights to pass the time as I shrugged back at him. “I should have just paid somebody to unload everything for me, honestly. My back is killing me.”

He waited for me to go inside when the doors opened, pushing the button as he backed in. “Yeah, we have to be careful with that at our age.”

This man was at least ten years older than me, and I cringed at all the money I wasted getting my forehead creases flattened out if he thought we were so close. “I don’t think I asked how long you’ve been here. You’re not local. I would remember.”

He shook his head at the door and sighed as the car came to a stop. “No. The university put me in charge when they took this place over a while back.”

I readjusted my purse strap on my shoulder when we stepped outside again. “Well, it seems like you all made out well in the merger."

The management suite dripped with expensive-looking furniture and freshly painted walls. “The place looks fantastic.”

It seemed that a lot of things were different around here. The diner Carolyn waited tables at in high school was an ice cream shop. And the park at the town square had a water fountain and farm stand with handmade candles I’d like to stop and check out.

Yet when I looked up and came face to face with the ghost of Dominic Vasser smiling at me in the doorway straight ahead, he was almost exactly the same as the night he put that ring on my finger. “Oh, my God.”

#my writing #small town romance

[rookie-critic]

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. (2023, dir. Kelly Fremon Craig) - review by Rookie-Critic

This movie really charmed me. I was, of course, aware of the book's existence and of Judy Blume in general (I had read the Fudge series of books in elementary school), but I'd never read it. So I had no idea what I was going into when I went and saw this a couple days ago. It turned out to be a lovely story that tackles female puberty, female identity, and complicated family dynamics in terms of religion in a very candid and unashamed way. It's a coming-of-age film that actually feels like our central character does just that; a year in the life film where we feel like our protagonist has gone on a journey and come out the other side of it changed. Not in some grand, high-stakes, movie way, but in a very human way. In a way that only a year of life experiences at that age could change you.

In the film, Margaret is a girl on the verge of entering the sixth grade, and is being forced to move from the bustling streets of New York City to the suburbs of New Jersey. From there the general things happen: she makes new friends, learns things about life and womanhood she was previously unaware of, has big talks with her mom (played by the always wonderful Rachel McAdams) about grandparents she's never met, and just exists as a pre-teen girl in 1970s America. Nothing particularly mind-blowing happens in the film's runtime, but the beauty of this story comes from all of the subtle changes and things that happen. The conversations with her new friends, her first crush, her curiosity about Judaism and Christianity as a result of being raised in non-religious household, and the culmination of all of these things as they shape the person you know Margaret will turn into as an adult as a result of these experiences.

I think what impressed me just as much as the main storyline with Margaret is how well embodied her mom is as a character. McAdams' Barbara Simon feels almost as important as Margaret and the story tries hard to show how the trauma of her parents affected her, and how much her and her husband Herb (a big, sweet doofus played by Benny Safdie) are trying to keep the stressors and potential trauma of extreme religion off of their daughter. It's wild to think of parents that are that supportive and progressive existing in that era of American history, but it's also a very refreshing to see an example of positive and affirmative parenting on screen. The deft hand with which directory Kelly Fremon Craig (whose previous film, The Edge of Seventeen, I also loved) handles religion in this is impressive. The condemnation of extreme devout-ism while not shunning the concept of personal faith away entirely is a bit of thin tightrope walk, but Craig and the entire cast walk it beautifully. Allowing Margaret to talk her perception of God on her own terms and the exploration of how that word means something different to everyone (if it means anything to them at all), and how all of those different meanings are ok, is a wonderful message to send. This is just one of those movies that, try as I might, I can't find a single thing to complain about. It's lovely, it's life-affirming, and it's a wonderful film for everyone, man, woman, young, old, and everything on the spectrum in-between, to enjoy. The most effortlessly great film so far this year.

10/10

Only in theaters. Also, the soundtrack is front-to-back bangers, and the costume design department on this film deserves a ton of praise, because all of the outfits in this were cute as hell.

#Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. #Kelly Fremon Craig #Judy Blume #Abby Ryder Fortson #Rachel McAdams #Kathy Bates #Benny Safdie #Elle Graham #Echo Kellum #Isol Young #Amari Alexis Price #Katherine Kupferer #Aidan Wojtak-Hissong #Kate MacCluggage #Zack Brooks #Mia Dillon #Gary Houston #Simms May #Landon Baxter #film review #movie review #2023 films

[zukuist]

in the moment [hcs]

“they are desperate for help when admirers swarm them, and they choose to seek for your assistance”

fandom/s : 僕のヘロアカデミア // boku no hero academia (bnha)

includes: h. shinsō, k. bakugō, i. midoriya

your name is shortened to y/n, last name is shortened to l/n gender neutral, use of the pretend lover trope, they’re actually pining.

further note: yes i’ve been gone for more than a week, and yes it’s because of school. i promise i’ll be posting more!!

REQUESTS ;; OPEN !!

© IZUKULIE 2021, HORIKOSHI KOHEI OWNS BNHA, DO NOT STEAL ❕

—

shinsō hitoshi

finds it super annoying

and this is coming from him, someone that’s not easy to irritate

he’s conscious and aware that people find him attractive (which for some reason, he still questions why)

eventually, admirers are bound to appear like it or not, but they’re not this insistent as this girl, nope.

shinsō has never experienced something like this, in his entire life.

noriko was a familiar face, but not in the best way for shinsō hitoshi.

she used to be one of those girls that’d band wagon with her opinions. whenever people were hostile towards him

she would be hostile too

but as soon as everyone started finding him attractive, she’d change too.

and it’s.. a mess. what more when he himself is pining on someone that’s not noriko

let alone, a student from class 1-A?

and it’s not like he could brainwash her into leaving him alone

as soon as she would be released by his quirk, she’d tell everyone what he did. therefore, leaving that out of the many solutions

and now he’s backed up into a corner, with her chasing him all across the hallways.

he can only hope for a solution.

— scene —

“this is ridiculous..” taking another turn in the hallway, shinsō mutters to himself quietly, the sleep deprived student can still hear her shrill voice

and by ‘her’, he’s referring to the admirer that has been tailing him down ever since the day had started.

“there are times like this where i wished i didn’t care about looking villainous” is what he’s really thinking. damn quirk stereotypes, and curse him for not having a quirk like iida tenya

“what.. are you doing?” was he lucky, or unlucky? it just so happened to be that he bumped into y/n l/n, out of all people

“i’m in a bit of a situation,” his palm rests against his nape, and he has to hope that you get the message, when noriko’s nearly deafening voice cuts through the air

“you’re quite popular with the ladies, huh?” you joke, and shinsō would’ve laughed if he wasn’t being trailed down.

“as much as i—”

“there you are !” noriko exclaims, slightly out of breath from the insistent chase, “you still haven’t answered !”

“i have, and i said no.” he makes his intentions concrete, compared to earlier (which was a mistake) when he rejected her in the nicest way he could’ve done so, but it wasn’t enough to make her quit.

“well earlier, you’ve said you appreciated it !” the whine pains both of your ears, and you contemplate if you should just grab his hand, and make a run for it.

but, she’d just chase you down again. so maybe not.

“yes, but i also said i can’t accept your feelings.” in instinct, he backs up so he could stand next to you, and he looks at you with his own style of desperation, which was obviously different than noriko’s desperation.

“i happen to be taken.” shinsō claims, hooking his hand along yours. which might’ve been done because he’s desperate, but could’ve been done because he wanted to

getting the motive, you lock away your shock, and play along, accepting his touch.

“i don’t believe you.” noriko blurts, “you two look like best friends more than anything. i’m not stupid !”

you didn’t think it would have to resort to this.

with not much of a thought, you grabbed shinsō by the collar, and smashed your lips together. his lips are warmer than you’ve anticipated, the distinct taste of coffee makes you lean into him further. while at first taken aback, shinsō decides to accept the act by pushing you even closer to him

you let go, deciding it was enough, and when you stare back at noriko, tears dotting at her waterline, and she sputters in humiliation and rejection.

“i never liked you anyway !” she uses as a defense, before storming off. the both of you feel a sense of relief when her figure turns at the end of the hallway

“sorry for kissing you like that. it was kind of in the moment,”

shinsō chuckles, “didn’t expect our first kiss to be like that.”

“well, there are more opportunities to come for you, you’re quite popular.” you tease, and shinsō flicks your forehead in retaliation. in return, you hiss at the sudden sting of pain.

“we’ll have more opportunities when i take you out for lunch on saturday.” he pats you on the shoulder, before he presses a quick real kiss on your cheekbone.

bakugō katsuki

also finds it super annoying. actually, he might as well just fight them and move on.

bakugō knows it well that he’s.. well-known, for all the right and wrong reasons

but what he doesn’t know is that he’s also known for his good looks, rough and boyish in nature.

so eventually, there’ll be that one brave and fearless soul that’ll take one for the team. or even two, or three.

he hates it. doesn’t his aura and demeanor alone scare off all of the suitors?

since when were they super persistent, smh.

it didn’t help that he was trying to drown and suffocate his feelings down the pipeline.

because curse bakugō katsuki for having normal, teenage feelings. he had other important things in life, right?

but he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever confess to him like that

(not that it would happen any time soon. you were too busy being a tough training partner)

but everything aside, he wishes that people would just take the hint already.

because ignoring doesn’t help all the time.

the girl named fumiko would be a dreadful sight he’d be constantly reminded of.

from his shoe locker being flooded with love letters that speak nothing to him, and to the obnoxious commentary on his looks

he’d think that they were just harassing him to get a reaction, but bakugō katsuki will remain unbothered!

but he spoke too soon, because he was approached directly right after his late training session.

—scene—

bakugō hates it

he hates extras, he hates being outshined, and he hates distractions. what more was there to dislike in the world? everything clearly.

he can handle things properly, and with that tough demeanor of his, and he definitely doesn’t need a quick and easy solution, from the girl that’s glued to his side.

he told himself that a persistent extra is nothing, he can just simply ignore them and look at them, like how he always looks at useless pebbles, and they’d go away. but clearly not this girl

“get off, you fucking extra” he pushes her off, grabbing his water bottle and immediately storming off, but it doesn’t convince fumiko (he learned her name unfortuantely) to finally lay off.

“c’mon katsuki! this would’ve all been over if you just went out with me!”

bakugō can’t hide the cringe on his face, hearing his first name, ugh. he doesn’t know how she found out about his late training sessions, considering that she wasn’t in his class or class 1-b

he doubts that he’d run into anyone at this hour, they’d be all in the common room, and he did say that he wanted all of them to ‘fuck off’. but luck does work in mysterious ways.

“..what’re you doing here?” he questions, clearly surprised by your presence, and his frustration would’ve disappeared at that exact mom“dinner’s almost ready. actually, why do you look so.. alarmed? is there a villain?—”

his palms are starting to sweat, and it’s not because of his training, or because of the girl that won’t leave him alone. “no! fuck no. okay, there’s just some shitty extra that’s been following me around like some obsessed freak.”

you decide to be smug, “i knew there was going to be a brave soul out there, ready to sacrifice themselves.” you rest your hand on your left side, like it was heart warming, but the blond is not amused with your gesture.

“right, right!” you hold your hands up, surrendering. “okay, what do you want me to do?”

“just don’t say a fucking thing.” you can hear foot steps get closer and closer to the both of you, and in a hurry, he pushes you closer to him, the smell of caramel evading your senses.

before you could even say a word, he kisses you. it’s rough, and it makes you feel warm, and it’s definitely not because of his quirk, or because of the large, warm palms that rest against your sides.

you get a grip on him, holding onto his shoulder when you feel your knees buck because of the butterflies in your stomach, and it seems to get worse when bakugō holds you even tighter

“okay geez, i get it. you’re taken!” you can hear the girl exclaim in humiliation and disgust, “ugh, a guy like you wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway.”

and when she finally scurries away, the both of you break the kisses, the wind out of you being knocked out cold from his sudden act of ‘romance’

“i sorta understand the hype now.” you grin, your lips still tingle from the kiss, and you’re convinced that you want more, despite the kiss being out of spite, and for fumiko to back off.

“shut up.” you would’ve laughed at him if it was any other day, but for now, you’re left silent. your heart flutters once more, when his lips press against your cheekbone briefly.

“c’mon, idiot. we’re gonna miss dinner.”

midoriya izuku

he’s so alarmed, and honestly very scared

he wasn’t popular, or well known to begin with, and people only started treating him like he was a real person in highschool

he’s just so used to being looked at like a background character, or a npc in a video game.

so the sudden swarm of suitors, and people that want to date him shocked him to the core.

he was never treated like this in middle school, or elementary!

it flatters him, and he’s glad that people actually like him. but.. he’d never actually think about being with either of them

because they’re not you, obviously. but wait, what’s so different about you exactly?

well.. you’ve treated him with kindness, even when he looked like this.. really awkward kid that sat at the back of the classroom.

so yeah, he’d never think about accepting anyone else’s confessions, as long as they’re not you

but still, midoriya has treated all of his admirers with kindness, despite not wanting to be with any of them

knowing how it feels to be humiliated, he wouldn’t want to do that on any of them

but.. this one particular girl was one he’d never truly be comfortable with, as much as he’d like to fake it.

rieko was.. something. probably the most persistent one out of all of them.

he would’ve appreciated it, if it weren’t for the fact that she was super obnoxious to other people.

and most importantly, he didn’t understand what she’d get out of it, and it wrecked his nerves!

— scene —

standing next to you, all lined up for lunch, midoriya shifts uncomfortably as he tries his best to ignore the loud and obvious commentary that’s being directed to him.

at first, it was flattering. but now? he just wishes things would go back to the times where people had no interest in him, whatsoever.

he knows what rieko really like him for, and it’s honestly disheartening. the girl would compliment him on things like his looks, and even his new moves!

but as soon as he elaborated on how he did it, the interest would fade away from her eyes

not that it did matter though. midoriya didn’t really have any feelings for any of the people that’ve approached him, wanting to date him. he’s been kind, and they’ve been kind in return, getting the hint and backing off.

the freckled boy was flattered but, not interested

but clearly, rieko didn’t get the message, despite the way midoriya would back away uncomfortably. how he’d immediately excuse himself whenever he’d see the girl.

just.. all signs of disinterest

“go! just ask him already!” he can hear her friends encourage her, but he’s not very enthusiastic to know what they’re cheering her on for

“he won’t be able to resist! just walk right in and do it, you guys will be an attractive couple anyway!”

midoriya’s palms are shaky, and he tries his best to calm his nerves down by clenching his fists. this doesn’t go un-noticed by you.

“you okay, midoriya?” you ask, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and the green haired boy hopes that his cheeks aren’t turning red.

the both of you guys are awfully close! not that he’s complaining, it’s just that—

“is it about them?” you ask in a nearly quiet tone, and midoriya’s aware that you’re talking about them.

“uhm..” midoriya tries to formulate a proper answer, not wanting to sound as bothered as he actually is. how would he be able to explain this? “don’t worry about it,” midoriya reassures, “it’s just—”

“do you think that he’s dating that person? you know, the one beside them?” he hears that the topic of the conversation has shifted, and the group of girls are referring to you.

midoriya wasn’t planning on telling anyone about the dilemma. let alone his crush. it was something he was going to ignore, until the mess calmed down.

but now? you’re roped into it, and his nerves didn’t calm down at all.

“izuku dating them? no, it can’t be. he’s too good for them!”

“that’s the spirit, rieko. you should just go like.. now!”

to him, it’s the other way around. you’re too good for him, and you’re out of his league. so, this comment upsets him to all ends.

he’s pondering on what he should do, and before he could take you out of the line to get food at some other place, he feels something warm enlace his hand.

he slightly shivers when he realizes that it’s your hand he’s holding, cheeks flushed with crimson.

your eyes are ahead, a lot more composed than he is clearly, but if he looked hard enough, he could sense the nervousness in your hold.

“you wanna leave the line, izu?” his first name sounds different when you say it, and he thinks to himself that he prefers it a lot more when it comes from you

“y-yes.” and you smile, pressing your lips against his cheek quickly, before tugging his hand and pulling him out of the line, walking away from the group.

it’s a miracle that he didn’t drop onto the cafeteria’s floors.

you can feel his anxiety subsiding. despite his flushed cheeks remaining, he looks better than he did a few seconds ago, and you’re glad.

deciding the both of you were at a safe distance, you peek over your shoulder. you can see the absolute defeat on rieko’s face, and the scowl on her friends’ faces as they attempted to comfort their heartbroken friend.

“thank you, y/n.”

“no, it’s nothing, really. anyhow, what do you plan on eating for lunch?”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #bnha headcanons #bnha x y/n #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x you #🖋epiphany.writes #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya imagines #midoriya fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou imagines #shinsou fluff #mha fluff #mha headcanons #shinsou x you #bakugou x you #midoriya x you

[justauthoring]

Then, The Moment Came

Prompt: It just never was the right time. Not then, not later, until it suddenly is and everything’s... different. Requested by: no one.

A/N: The Atsumu debut on my account has finally happened. And yes, this is very loosely, loosely based off of A Silent Voice because I literally cannot get it out of my head. Oh, and I love soulmates au’s. Pairing: Atsumu Miya x F!Reader

A hard shove to your shoulders sends you to the ground with a huff, pain radiating through your being as you huff.

There’s jeering laughs that echo, hurtful enough that you don’t say anything, don’t try to stand up for yourself -- instead, you keep your head down, hair falling into your eyes as you bite your lips to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. 

It’s not even the shove, or the pain that follows, that has tears welling. 

They hurt so much less then...

“You’re just a freak,” Atsumu spits at you, “no wonder no one likes you.”

Atsumu Miya, ten years old, and he absolutely hates you. Why, you have absolutely no idea. It’s been like this ever since you moved into the house across the street from him, walked into his class that one fateful day, and introduced yourself. 

You’d felt his glare on your back as you took the seat in front of him, and when you’d turned to face him, a harsh kick at the leg of your chair had you freezing in surprise.

You’d never spoken to him. Never directly. But after school that first day, he’d found you on your way home, tripped you so hard you skinned your knee, and laughed as he walked off. 

Then, just as he went to turn, his twin beside him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else; Atsumu had turned to you, a glint in his eyes. “You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.”

It just never really ended after that.

But when you got home that day, brushing your mothers concerned hands away as she reached for your knee, you’d sat on your bed and looked at your arm only to see those exact same words.

Those cruel, cruel words, and wondered, how unlucky you must be to have a soulmate that hates you.

-

“Do you want to go to the game tonight?”

You blink, pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Misaki’s words. With a drawl, lips pulled downwards, you turn to her with a quirked brow. “No.” You say simply, shaking your head.

“Come on,” she huffs, head falling into the palms of her hands with a huff, “you never want to go to anything.”

You sigh. “That’s not true. I let you drag me lots of places.”

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

She pouts at you, lips pursed, eyes set into a teasing glare as she takes another bite out of her lunch. “Our volleyball team is supposed to be so good, though,” she whines, trying to appear nonchalant (though very much failing), as she lets her eyes wander on anything but you. “One of the best, actually. They make it to nationals every year and--”

“And they have their own cheer squad,” you cut in, “good for them.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

She just glares at you.

“If you want to go so bad, take one of your other friends,” you shrug, brushing her off. “I’m not your only friend.”

“Yes, but you’re my best friend,” she smiles, sickly sweet, all bright eyed and twinkling and you sigh, once again, at the look she sends you. “And I only want to go with you.”

Staring at her for a moment, you laugh; “you’re good.”

And her eyes brighten, hope flooding them; “you’ll go, then?”

“I never said that.” She deflates, “but... sure.”

“Eeee~!” She jumps to a stand, reaching across the table to grab your hands, shaking them with a bright laugh. “Yes, yes, yes! You won’t regret this, Y/N/N, we’re going to have so much fun!”

I’m sure, you can’t help but think. It’ll be so fun to watch him show off.

And even though you don’t say it aloud, Misaki seems to just know.

“Atsumu-san will be there too.”

“He is apart of the team.”

“Maybe you could even try to--”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you cut in, voice sharp, maybe a little more sharp then you mean to be. At the look Misaki sends you, you frown at the guilt that floods you, the hurt look in her eyes, before softening your voice. “Atsumu hates me, Saki. I’ve told you this.”

“But-But that was when you were kids--!”

“And he hasn’t talked to me since.”

Her shoulders fall, and she doesn’t argue after that.

Inhaling deeply, you reach across the table, taking her hand in your own like she had moments ago, though gently and squeeze it softly. It pulls her eyes on you, and smiling gently, you add; “I appreciate you, Saki, and what you’re trying to do. And I love that you want me to be happy, but I don’t need my soulmate to be.”

“You say that,” she frowns, “but you hardly ever smile...”

And she says the words softly, carefully, not wanting to hurt you, but you can’t ignore the pang in your heart at her words. Your hand slips from hers as the words repeat in your mind, and you think of all those years ago, the constant, relentless, cruel teasing that you’d endured from the person that was meant to be your one and only.

You realize, Misaki’s completely right -- you weren’t happy. And it was silly to pretend that you were.

“Yeah, well,” you whisper, and it’s like ironic and cruel perfect timing that has Atsumu walking into the lunchroom at that exact moment, surrounded by his friends, laughing. He hasn’t a care in the world, head thrown back with a laugh as passing girls flock towards him.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

-

“Damn you, Misaki.”

Huffing out the words, followed by a curse, as yet another call to your best friend is all but ignored, you grit your teeth.

Where the hell could she have gone?

One second she was right beside you, laughing and cheering as Inarizaki took an already expected win. And then you’d run to go to the bathroom for a minute, only to find the girl had absolutely disappeared on you. Seriously, she was no where. And it didn’t help that the gym was absolutely flooded with other people that you couldn’t properly see anyone.

“I swear to Kami, Misaki, when I find--”

“--Are you okay?”

You freeze. 

No. Please, anyone but him.

A hand falls on your shoulder, spinning you round and of course, it is him; Atsumu Miya in all his glory, smiling down at you. And then, as you meet his gaze, his own falters, and his brows furrow and the next words that leave his lips sting more then they probably should.

“Y/N? Y/L/N Y/N?” He laughs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you went to Inarizaki.”

Yeah, ouch.

You’ve only been in the same school as him since literally elementary.

But apparently, after he got bored of bullying you, he also got bored of acknowledging your presence at all.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Words feel like they’re lodged at the back of your throat, and it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe. All the people feel like too much all of a sudden, and you’re desperate to get away. You’ll apologize to Misaki later, but you need to leave. You turn, moving to run off, because you just want to get out of there, but then, he reaches for you and--

“Don’t touch me!”

People stop, pausing for a moment at your booming voice, all eyes on you as Atsumu pulls back like you’ve physically slapped him, shock clear on his face.

And then you turn, once more, and walk off before he can say anything else.

You don’t see the frown on his face, don’t see the way he glances down at his arm, nor the realization that dawns on him then and there.

-

“You just left me.”

“Technically you left me first.”

“Suna-kun wanted to talk to me.”

“Then, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

Pausing, you turn to Misaki; “I sent you a text.”

She blinks at you. “I thought you’d been kidnapped! Or worse, killed!”

“Now, you’re being dramatic.”

“Y/N/N!”

Pausing by your locker, you turn to her; “I’m sorry, I just... I had to get--”

“Y/N!”

What in the world--

“Is that--”

“I know who it is, Saki.”

“Okay,” she breathes, “why is he walking our way? Why is he calling for you?”

“I don’t know!” You stress, turning to her with wide, panicked eyes. “Hide me!”

“How in the world am I--”

“Y/N,” Atsumu smiles, finally reaching you.

You freeze.

Misaki stares at you, then Atsumu, then, with a light nudge, turns; “w-well,” she laughs, “I should really get going. Have fun, you two!” And she promptly ignores the absolutely terrified look you send her.

You’re so going to kill her.

Later. Definitely later, when you manage to escape Atsumu, somehow, yet again--

“I’m so glad I found you.”

Turning to him, you swallow thickly.

“I tried to find you yesterday, but I couldn’t and I got scared that--”

“What do you want.”

You’re blunt, more blunt then you mean to be. But you don’t want this mindless chatter, whatever it means, and you’re absolutely desperate to get away that you don’t even care if talking like that makes him mad. You used to deal with it as a kid all the time anyways, so...

“Well, I just wanted to catch up,” he laughs, lightly, a little too airy. Is he... nervous? “We haven’t talked since we were kids, so--”

“You mean when you used to bully me?”

You have no idea where this confidence is coming from.

“I’d hardly call it bullying--”

“I used to come home in bruises because of you,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you hug yourself. You’re uncomfortable. You want to leave, you need to leave. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I have to--”

He grabs you, your entire body going cold at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. On one hand, it’s like you can feel... this electric shiver run through your entire being and you figure it’s because of this supposed connection the two of you are supposed to have. But on the other hand, it fills you with such terror, that you almost want to cry.

“I didn’t know.”

But his words makes all that go away, and instead you’re just confused.

“What?”

“I didn’t know that we were... you know.”

Blinking, you finally meet his gaze head on. “How could you have not known?”

“You... You never said anything.”

Shaking your head, you rip your arm from his grasp. “That day, when I introduced myself--”

“You weren’t talking to me,” he argues, “not directly, at least. And you were always so quiet when I’d...-- But then, yesterday, when I grabbed you, well--” He holds his hand out towards you, and sure enough the words written on his arm are:

don’t touch me!

So, apparently he never did know.

It doesn’t change anything. How could it?

Him not knowing doesn’t excuse bullying you. Doesn’t erase everything he did.

It could never.

“What to know what my words are?” Practically yanking the sleeve of your sweater up your arm, you thrust it towards Atsumu, gaze harsh. And his eyes slowly flicker downwards, frowning as he reads the words.

You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.

And the stupid guilty look on his face pisses you off even more.

“I want nothing to do with you,” you spit, “so just leave me alone.”

-

What the hell is Atsumu Miya doing at your front door.

“I was hoping you still lived here.”

Pausing, you sigh. “You don’t give up do you?”

Grinning, Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, “unfortunately not.”

Sighing, you let your hand fall on your hip, tilting your head to the side curiously. “So what, you know I’m your soulmate now and you want to walk me to school?”

There’s a nervous smile on his face, one that seems odd on him, as he laughs lightly. “Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, “whatever.”

But he follows, and you don’t argue.

-

“Let me grab those for you!”

With a blink, the stack of textbooks in your hands is suddenly gone and in another’s. You sigh when you meet Atsumu’s familiar gaze.

“You don’t have to do that, Miya-san.”

“I want to,” he shrugs simply, and you pointedly ignore Misaki’s laugh from beside you. “And, it’s Atsumu.”

“What?”

He meets your eyes, smiling; “call me Atsumu.”

Misaki nudges you with her elbow, pulling your gaze on her momentarily as she grins brightly. Sighing, you turn back to Atsumu, watching as he gently places the textbooks down in the locker you’d just opened. Turning to walk off with a grin, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank you, Miya-san.”

“Atsumu!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Well,” Misaki adds after a moment, “that was sweet~!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

-

“I would like you to come to my game.”

Staring up at Atsumu, you blink.

“Please.”

Licking your lips, clasp your hands together behind your back; “won’t I be an embarrassment?”

“No.” And he says it quickly, barely letting you finish your sentence, adamantly shaking his head. “No, you could never.”

I used to be.

But you don’t say that.

“Okay,” you heed, hating the butterflies that flood your stomach at the bright grin that curls onto his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!”

-

“Congratulations on the win, Atsumu-san.”

“Y/N/N, you came!”

It’s hard to fight back the blush that threatens to grow on your cheeks at the smile he sends you. Hard to ignore the way your heart flutters as he calls you by that stupid nickname that he’d picked up from Misaki. And hard to forget the way everything screams in you for him at the way his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you.

“Misaki dragged me,” you gesture behind yourself where you know your friend is, shaking your head at the bright grin she sends the two of you.

“Still,” he nods, eyes softening as he looks down at you; “you came.”

“Yes, well,” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling nervous, you shuffle on your feet. “I should be going now. Congratulations again on the--”

You don’t make it two steps before he’s wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugged you into him and slipped the other around your waist. You’re flush against him, a huff of surprise leaves your lips as you blink up at the boy, trying to ignore the way it feels like your body has ignited with electricity at just the simple touch of him.

And then his fingers are ghosting across your cheek, brushing back loose hair, and pulling your gaze solely on him, where you can’t seem to look away as everything just... fades away. The crowded gym suddenly feels empty, and everything is quiet as you stare up at him.

You also note that you feel at ease at his touch.

“I never said sorry.”

Lips parting, you swallow thickly; “it’s okay--”

“No, it isn’t,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your own, and it feels like you might melt right there at the feeling of his warm breath on you. “None of what I did was okay.”

“Atsumu...”

“I’m so sorry...”

You relax in his touch, hands moving to fall on his shoulders, where you squeeze, eyes falling to his lips before flickering back up to his own.

“It’s okay...”

“...I want to kiss you,” he whispers, voice gentle, nervous. “Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling the words slip out all on their own; “please.”

And he obliges and suddenly everything just makes sense, just works, and all that gushing Misaki used to go on about about how wonderful soulmates are you completely agree with. Having Atsumu so close, having his warm touch on you, having his lips molding against your own, barely a breaths away, feels so incredibly amazing and right that you wonder how you’d ever existed without him.

He makes up for it all then. None of it matters any more, not the teasing, not the pushing and shoving, nor the tears that would follow.

It’s all worth it for this one moment now.

-

a little ooc? maybe?

whoops.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq imagine #hq x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu imagine #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #imagine #imagines #my fics

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Is it wrong to lie to children?

A personal essay on reconciling with a shitty childhood and the question: is it wrong to lie to children?

It’s perplexing to have a shitty “unorthodox” childhood because initially I tried to throw out everything about It. Toss out the plumping and the rafters and the roofing, dispense of every single part of my upbringing I could get my hands on and not look back. Naturally, this approach didn’t work. It wasn’t even a real possibility. You’re still haunted by it, a ghost in the bones of a house, a foundation that remains long after the builders have left. That’s part of recovery too, to look at that ghost, to look at those bones, and keep saying: I see you, I see. I let you in. You sit with it and accept, accept, accept.

The really terrible part of this, the part where I don’t throw away the baby with the bathwater, is that you then have to raise the thing, deal with it. You have to do the hard work of parsing through the endless bits of self and placing them in “keep” piles and “discard” piles. I want to keep my mother’s kindness. I want to keep my father’s sense of humor. I want to discard the isolation. I want to discard the delusions.

But then there are these weird . . . “I don’t know” things. The things I am unsure if they helped me or hurt me. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more and more of those “I don’t know” categories piling up. I’ve worked my way through most of the more obvious ones and now it’s all grey and mushy and as cloudy as a London winter. Recently, more than anything, I’ve been grappling with the fact my mother believed it was wrong to lie to children. She believed, in her flower-child way, that it was unethical in all forms.

I never believed in Santa Claus. I’m sorry to say I was a pretty obnoxious kid too because I would preach on the playground about how there was no Santa and there had never been any Santa. Which was a bit harsh, but in my defense I was under the impression these people were suffering from some sort of collective mass delusion. They were being lied to. And lying was wrong.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

I’ve known about sex since I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember why I asked, but it was something about where babies come from and so on. Most parents talk about a stork or love or some other abstract side-step. My mother described the anatomy to me and showed me a scientific diagram of the process. She told me that a sperm meets an egg and fertilizes it so the baby can grow. I learned most of this in scientific terms and was surprised when none of my middle school friends knew how a penis worked.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

When I was 9 or so our cat was eaten by a coyote. I asked my mom where he went and she said that he accidently got out the night before. She said they looked for him all morning, but it was too late. She didn’t use the word “gone” or “passed on” or “he’s in a better place now.”

She said he was dead. I said oh. She asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. For the record, I am not actually sure if 9 year-olds should see corpses. That is neither here nor there. It was something that stuck with me though, the body of my cat with his tummy ripped out. I had never seen intestines before. His eyes were open.

But there was something cathartic about digging the grave. About helping pick up his little stiff body by the feet and placing him inside. There was something about piling on the red dirt as the sun set and letting the tears fall.

People on sitcoms hate talking about death. It’s understandable, it’s not funny, it makes for good dramatic irony when the kid asks “Where’s Socks?” and the parents go “Uuuuuh. He ran away.” I’ve never felt more alienated at those points. My cat died. He was eaten. I saw his body, and I buried it. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t want to be told he ran away-- that he had a choice in whether or not he left me.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

For a long time I thought the entirety of my childhood was wrong and bad, because I was miserable and broken at the end of it. I will assure you, my parents fucked up time and time again. But sometimes I have to stop and keep asking: Was this the wrong part? Was this the part where they fucked up? Was any part of this valuable? It’s a hard process to comb through an entire life and decide which bits are worth keeping, and if there are any silver linings.

So here is one: I am an honest person. I am a crooked person too, unsure of where to place my feet in social situations, picking my way through others normalcy. I do not readily share information, I am not forthcoming, and it’s a slow burn for me to open up about anything.

However, I notice time and time again that strangers will share personal things with me. I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s just this pattern in my life. I once went on a car ride with a girl I barely know from my debate team. She described how she wanted to lose her virginity, she wanted it, but was scared God would be angry. That she’d be dirty afterwards. I told her that that was impossible, sex was just an act, it had no eyes, it had no priestly robes, or bearing on her soul. She cried. She said she hadn’t told me anyone this before.

I had a friend in high school who was struggling with an eating disorder, people had tried to get her to talk about it before, but I was the first person she admitted it to. In the hallway, sitting, just discussing nothing, and out it comes: I’m scared to eat sometimes. I was on a city bus and an old woman struck up a conversation with me. Over an hour or so, and she ended up telling me her fears for her own daughter going away to college. Her fear of growing old and passing on. Her problems with sleeping as she lay awake and dreaded it.

People have told me about their problems with substance abuse, their struggles with sexuality, and childhood trauma. People spill to me and I sit there thinking: Why? Sometimes I think it’s my gender or just how people are, but it always feels like I’m missing some part of the picture. Why do people open up to me, unprompted, all at once? Why me?

Is it wrong to lie to children?

Recently, I was reading a memoir set in 2001 where two young kids ask the narrator, their mother, about 9/11. They asked what happened to the people on television who were jumping off the building. Where did they go? The mother says this: They were caught. There are people-catchers that flew and saved them. Everyone is okay.

This story was meant to be heartfelt and lyrical, relatable. It ended like this: It is the job of mothers to offer gentle lies.

I had to stop reading because I was suddenly lost in a white-hot rage, unexpected, knee-jerk. How could she do that? I found myself frothing. They trusted her with answers and she lied. How could she? I knew it was irrational. It was silly even. This was a sweet story. It was meant to be heart-warming and framed in a way that suggested this is what all mothers do. This was what they needed to do. 

I felt my own mother, pumping through my veins, furious that these elementary school students were being betrayed. I stopped myself of course, I knew it wasn’t reasonable. I wasn’t raised “correctly.” I had no legs to stand on.

But still, is it alright to lie to children?

I am once again faced with that unending dilemma: how to throw-out those parts of myself that don’t work and keep the ones that do. It’s difficult to say, because in some ways I agree with my mom. How can I not? But death is cruel. Sex is weird. Santa Claus is a beautiful lie.

And what’s wrong with lying? I still don’t know. What’s wrong with letting them never hurt? Never knowing the pain or gross parts of the world? What’s the harm in letting them make-believe?

But sometimes I think about all those people who have cried to me. All these unprompted confessions come with an unspoken plea: I hurt. I am afraid. I am so scared. It’s all so heavy, these painful truths.

And some part of me stands there, the part my mother raised and says: there is nothing in this life that is too shameful. There is nothing in this world that is unnatural. There is nothing in this life to lie about, even to children.

Is death too painful? Is sex too gross? Would you tell an adult that a man lives in the North Pole and watches them?

I asked my mom, years later, when I was less furious and able to talk with her again without screaming, about why she believed all this. She had told me about it since I was very young, but I never asked why. She shrugged. She said: children are people, aren’t they?

I still don’t know what to do with this.

Children are people, but they are not adults. They shouldn’t be exposed to “adult” things, right? But is that line so concrete? Is the word “adult” just a mask for the greater word, the one we really mean? We all agree: honesty is good. Lying hurts. But it’s alright to lie to kids, because in many ways they aren’t people yet, they aren’t people yet, they don’t count.

I am admittedly an argumentative person. I was on the debate team, mock trial, United Nations, I studied political science in college and fought with every single one of my professors I thought was wrong. And I stood in that playground, age 6, and told every single one of my classmates Santa wasn’t real and I wouldn’t stop. The truth was important. And my mother, no matter what, thought I disserved it.

I often felt tiny and powerless as a kid. Terrified and holding myself together by shoestrings. I often felt there would be nothing better in the world than to be grown up. Not for the money or the dating or the job, I just wanted to feel like the hurricane would end. That one day I could stand on solid ground again. My friend often says: I wish I could be a kid again, ya know? No responsibilities. Just bliss. I want to be a kid again.

I can’t relate. I never have. I’ve been busy weeding through the pipes and lighting and the carpentry of my upbringing and asking myself: is any of this worth keeping? Is any part of me built correctly? There are no right answers.

But still, I am haunted. I sit and ask myself in circles: is it alright to lie to children?

------------

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#personal essay #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #writers on tumblr #story time

[harryspet]

secret service | bucky barnes

[Warnings] secret service!bucky x reader, reader is vp’s daughter, bodyguard!bucky, agegap, noncon/dubcon sex, brat tamer bucky, dominant x submissive, rough sex (wear protection kids!!)

A/N: this is for @nsfwsebbie​ ‘s dream fic challenge. Happy b-day sab! this is @mypoisonedvine​ ‘s dream fic and the prompt was “I would love anything dark bucky, especially if he starts out all nice and stuff but then he's all manipulative and it gets worse and worse until we're in heavy dub con/non con territory”. hope you enjoy bb!

In which a political trip to London allows you to be reunited with your favorite secret service member, Bucky Barnes. 

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything​ @saharzek​ @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet​ @what-is-your-wish​ @marvelslut-musicalnerd​ @brattypeony​ @hermayone​ @buckysugar​ @mandiiblanche​ @cherienymphe​

word count: 3.9k 

main masterlist

“You’ll need to be on your best behavior this weekend. We can’t have an incident like last year.”

You didn’t meet your mother’s eyes as you looked out the window of the private plane. Surprising to most, this time you spent watching her read her millions of paperwork was the most time you spent with her. Your mother cared for you but she was not warm. You didn’t believe a warm person could make it so high in the government. Being the daughter of the Vice President, you saw the kinds of dirty, manipulative politics that went on behind the scene. 

You wanted little part of it but, here you were, about to land in London for an important public event. 

“Y/N? Are you listening?” She continued to talk despite your lack of an answer, “That means you tell your agents when you’re going somewhere. I don’t care if you’re only walking down the hall to the ice machine, you tell them. You’ve known this since you were a little girl, I don’t know why you always give me a hard time.”

“I’m already here alone, Mom. Must you torture me further by suffocating me?”

“I know you must think it’s fun to rendezvous with some foreign prince but I must ask you to keep your legs closed for this trip and listen to your security.”

Your mouth parted. She thought of you as some whore but the truth was that you were far from the persona she forced upon you, “You don’t know me at all. And Alden isn’t a prince, his father is a prince. He’s just a duke,” You faked a smile and she scowled at you. 

You weren’t expecting her next words, “I have a surprise for you when we land.”

You paused for a moment, trying to read her face. She was perfect at disguising her true emotions and, as her daughter, the thought that you didn’t really know your mother was saddening, “A surprise? I thought you were lecturing me.”

“You won’t listen unless I bribe you, Y/N,” Just as the words left her mouth, the pilot spoke on the intercom. The plane was beginning its descent and in a moment you’d be landing. One of your mother's assistants had to approve all your outfits for this trip. After some discourse, you decided on a light pink dress for your arrival look. It hugged your curves the way you liked but it reached down to your knees modestly as your mother preferred. 

When you were finally stepping down the stairs to the plane, watching your mother wave to the press, and the diplomats ready to greet her, you realized what your surprise was. Two sleek, black cars waited at the end of the red carpet and the sight of the man standing in front of the second one made your heart race. 

It took everything in you not to run to him. His dark hair was styled neatly, his arms folded over his nicely pressed black suit and a soft look of happiness was displayed on his strong face. He was just like you remembered him, the earpiece in his ear and the gold pin on his lapel reminded you of his position. 

“This is my surprise?” Your mother turned to you with a grin. 

“I know how much you like Agent Barnes, maybe you’ll actually listen to him. You’re going straight to your hotel room, I will see you later tonight.”

“Of course, my beloved mother.  Like all teenagers, I love sitting in my hotel room and doing nothing while I’m on a trip.”

You watched your mother walk away from you, going to the first car while you approached the second car. Your speed picked up as you neared him. He opened the door for you, winking, “Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach. I repeat, Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach.”

Everyone the secret service protected had a codename. You’d been a proud girl scout for most of elementary school and then middle school when your mother went from Senator to Vice President. The name stuck and you thought it was annoying now that you’d grown out of that phase but you liked the name on his lips. 

As you carefully slipped inside the car, you were beaming and, as Bucky slipped in beside you, you had to wait to pounce. You attacked him with a hug as soon as the doors closed and none of the crowd could see you through the tinted windows. You felt his hand against your back, hugging you tightly and it was then that you realized how touch starved you had been. 

Everyone you came in contact had to go through your guards and that was often an intimidating process for most guys. Even though you had started college, you decided to avoid boys altogether because of this. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Your eyes were wide even as you pulled away from him, “How?”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “Well I can’t tell you all the details since they’re top secret but, let’s say, my mission didn’t take as long as predicted.”

Your eyes narrowed at him in curiosity, “So you killed the bad guys and they let you come back to play babysitter?”

Bucky shook his head, giving you an amused look, “So crass. I see nothing has changed,” He leaned over and, for the briefest second, you thought his face was leaning into yours. Instead, he had reached over to grab your seatbelt as he safely secured it around your waist. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself looking into the rearview mirror where you could see the two agents sitting in the front seat, “I apologize for being gone so long.”

“You didn’t miss much,” You said to console him, “Just senior year which was nothing special.”

Seeing him now made you think about meeting him those six years ago. He was so young then, just having served in the Army, but somehow aging had made him look even better. You had a feeling he was just as king and loyal as before. You were just a middle schooler at the time, hormonal, and constantly fighting with your parents about your lack of freedom. Maybe you hadn’t changed much either. 

You watched him fasten his own seatbelt as the car began to take off, “Nothing special, hmm?” He cocked his eyebrow, “What about prom? Graduation?”

“Oh, it was effectively ruined by my arch-nemesis. He stole my spot as Salutatorian, my prom date wouldn’t stop talking to him about nanotech for the entire evening, and guess who got into Stanford for early admission just like yours truly?”

“Little Peter Parker?” Bucky chuckled. 

“He’s not so little anymore,” You crossed your arms, pouting, “He’s only jealous that my mother was chosen as Vice President and his uncle was chosen for the lousy Secretary of Labor position.”

“Seems he must like you a lot to follow you to Stanford. To move all the way across the country,” You gave him an incredulous look, “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” You rushed out your words, trying to ignore that feeling you got when he called you princess. If anyone else had said that, you’d probably feel disgusted but … you couldn’t help but think that term of endearment had changed its meaning. The truth was that you never thought Peter liked you and now you were worrying that your lack of social awareness had caused you to ignore the warning signs, “The last person I want to talk about is Peter Parker, Bucky.”

“Fine,” He folded his hands in front of him, sighing. 

“Besides,” You side-eyed him mischievously, “I have someone far more important who feigns for my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky leaned in. 

“A duke,” You finished.

Bucky’s face seemed to fall, “I can’t imagine you as a duchess,” You couldn’t imagine yourself as one either but you liked the excitement that Alden brought you, “And your mother informed me of what happened last year. I’ll probably lose my job if something like that occurs again.”

“You’d tattle on me? I thought we were friends, Bucky.”

“That was when you were a harmless little girl. Now, you’re …” His eyes seemed to roam over your face then they fell to your neck but they moved back to your eyes before they could travel any lower, “You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

You reached out to tap his cheek playfully and smirked, “I missed you.”

+

You weren’t sure exactly what holier-than-thou charity that these rich people had gathered in ball gowns to donate to. It was probably a minuscule fraction of their wealth and they most likely were only here to keep up appearances. Still, you enjoyed a chance to dress up. 

You moved through the historical museum in a red ball gown, admiring all the expensive artifacts, as Bucky escorted you. You expected your mother to be with you during the event she’d forced you to attend but it seemed that she was once again too busy. You would’ve felt lonely if Bucky hadn’t been there. The other agents kept their distance, wearing tuxedos to blend into the rest of the crowd as they watched you from a distance. 

Every now and then your conversation with Bucky would be interrupted by a message coming through his squiggly earpiece. 

He looked quite handsome tonight and by the outline of his biceps against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, you could tell he had bulked up over the last year. 

“Madam Vice President had a run-in with the Prime Minister's wife. Turns out they’ve been dying to talk. She’ll meet you once the auction begins.”

“Oh, an auction, is that what this is? What endangered species are we saving tonight?”

“Funny,” Bucky added sarcastically, “... I don’t see your prince around. Perhaps he found another famous daughter to entertain for the night.”

You gave him a venomous look, “That cannot be possible when I look like this,” You emphasized your glamorous look that had taken nearly five hours to get on, “Now, would you please escort me to my table? I’m sure he’ll come and find me once you’re not standing beside me like a big tree.”

The truth was that you had no idea if Alden even remembered you from last year. He did make out with you but who knows how many famous daughters he had tried to entertain before. You hated how right Bucky seemed. 

Bucky didn’t add anything to your harsh words as he escorted you into a large ballroom. It was so elegantly decorated that the room smelled like money. Blue stripes of light wavered through the room making it feel like you were in the middle of the ocean. You couldn’t help that the feeling of drowning that she experienced was a bad touch on the organizer's part. 

Of course, your mother’s table was right near the front of the room. As Bucky pulled back the white chair, you took a seat, not meeting his eyes, “You’re dismissed, Mr. Barnes,” You spoke over your shoulder. 

To your surprise, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You cause any problems tonight, princess, and you deal with me.”

Your mouth pinched into a thin line as you were left speechless. When you looked back, he was already walking away, taking his position by the far wall. You looked away quickly, mentally cursing. So much for having the upper-hand. You slouched in your seat, looking around the hall which was now flooding with people. 

A few people you vaguely remembered having a conversation with approached you to talk. Hollywood celebrities, European politicians, and even famous designers hoping to get you to wear some of their designs. Lately, the paparazzi loved to follow you as you walked to class and gossip sites loved to talk about what you wore. 

Everyone was so busy trying to get your attention that you hadn’t noticed someone slip in the seat beside you, “You look like you need something to drink,” You were a bit startled but you immediately recognized his voice. It seemed a year had made him more handsome as well. With one hand he grabbed yours and kissed it and with the other he handed you a glass of champagne. 

“Your grace,” You greeted him, accepting the glass. You had almost forgotten that you could legally drink here. Despite that, you knew it would be improper to your mother. That’s why you took a sip, “Thank you so much-” You winced at the bitter taste but continued to sip. 

The young duke was tall and red-headed, his face peppered with adorable freckles. His royal get-up was even more attractive. 

You looked back at Bucky who was staring intently, “Is a night of fun in the cards for us?” You turned back to the Prince. 

“I’m not supposed to rendezvous with royalty anymore. My Mom was not happy with me.”

He leaned back casually in his chair, his leisurely nature was surprising to you, “Is she usually happy with you?”

“Touche,” You took another painful sip, “Still, I’m not supposed to leave this table and I’m supposed to go straight back to my hotel room. No funny business.”

“No shenanigans whatsoever?” He frowned and you wondered why the British accent was so heavenly, “You must, at the very least, keep me entertained through whatever ceremony this is-”

“An auction, your grace.”

“What endangered species are we trying to save this time? It won’t be enough money anyways since they decorated this place with literal diamonds,” You smiled as you saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, “Something stronger, perhaps?”

+

Bucky tapped his foot, starting to tune out the voice in his ear. 

The room was now full of socialites, Madam Vice President had been escorted to her seat, and now the auction was beginning. The Vice President hadn’t so much as hugged her daughter so Bucky doubted she had noticed you were drinking yet. The young Duke would refill your glass with a clear liquid every time it ran low. 

You were now giggling and laughing with him as a serious speech was given. You had to be at least six shots in. You played with his hand in your lap, leaning over to whisper in his ear, as you had the time of your life. 

Bucky didn’t panic, only made a quick decision, “Girl Scout is in need of some rescuing. Clear the exit.” 

Bucky scanned the room and his men began to follow his orders, as he approached your table. Before you could take another sip of your drink, his hand was on your shoulder. Your mother flashed him a concerned look but Bucky gave her a look to tell her not to worry. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed yet that you were about to go off the rails. 

“Want some?” You smiled lazily as you lifted your glass. Bucky took it from you, setting back on the table. 

“I think you need to use the bathroom, Miss Y/L/N,” You gave him a confused look. You wondered why he was being so stern with you. 

“Nooo, I think you have the wrong woman, officer,” Bucky grabbed onto your hand, urging you up from your seat, “Let me deal with this rude man, your grace, I’ll be back soon.”

It seemed the Duke was in a similar, drunk state and simply replied with, “Return soon, my darling. I shall wait for your return-” You couldn’t respond because Bucky was trying to pull you away. Luckily, Bucky hadn’t managed to cause a scene but he knew you’d end up getting blackout drunk and embarrassing your mother if you continued. 

Agents flocked around the two of you as you were guided out of the room. You almost tripped on the long skirt of your dress though Bucky easily caught you. You held onto him, giggling, “You couldn’t make it one night, could you?” You walked through a long hallway, staff carrying large plates of food passed and stared. 

He brought you to the bathroom which was ginormous in itself, chandeliers hanging across the length of it, and completely empty, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, officer.”

He leaned against the wall, “Walk around. Splash water on your face. Sober up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink counter, as you stared at your makeup. As if you would ruin your makeup to “sober up”. 

You pouted, staring at him through the mirror, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bucky. Only my mother.”

“Your mother is my boss. When you upset her, she’s upset with me,” Bucky was terse, and you wondered where that soft side was starting to disappear to, “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

You huffed, hating that this conversation was starting to ruin your buzz, “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you never had a sip of alcohol before you were twenty-one.”

“You think you’re more mature than you actually are,” You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face, “You’re not drinking for fun. You’re drinking to spite your mother.” 

He moved closer, his hands behind his back as he sunk his words into you like a knife. You turned to him, taking a challenging step toward him. He towered over you but you clung to that anger and turned it to what you thought was confidence. 

You grinned up at him, reaching out to play with the buttons of his jacket, “I thought you knew me better, Bucky,” You looked up at him with longing eyes, “I’m not a little girl anymore and you know that. You look at me differently. Your eyes linger on places you shouldn’t even be watching.”

Bucky grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, “Stop,” You knew you had touched a nerve. 

“See, I know these things now,” You teased, “You like it when you can swoop me up and save me.”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” He spoke sternly. He was still holding you despite his words. 

“What is it that you really want from me?” You pressed yourself closer to him, “A kiss maybe? Or something more forbidden?”

His eyes were dark with lust and you watched them linger on your lips at the mention of a kiss. What exactly did you want from him and what hole had you just dug for yourself? The alcohol was giving you courage but you weren’t actually sure how to finish what you started. 

Bucky decided for you. He turned your body quickly, pressing your back into him, as a hand tightened around your throat. He faced you toward the mirror and the two of you were illuminated with bright lights. Your eyes widened as you watched him lean into your ear, “You’re such a brat ….”

Maybe part of him wanted you to mess up. Maybe he wanted a reason to get you alone with him and away from the royal douche that you were talking to. Maybe he let you get to this point ... 

“Bucky, what are you-” His hand tightened around your throat and you felt your knees go weak. 

He shushed you, “You asked what I really wanted. I want to punish you, princess,” Shivers went through your body as his warm breath tickled your ear, “I want to fuck you speechless so you can’t talk back with that smart little mouth of yours anymore.”

You started to struggle against you but you felt his fingers tighten around the sides of your throat. His hands were so big that they wrapped perfectly around your neck, “Hands on the counter,” He loosened his grip but only so he could push you forward. Like instinct, your hands held the sink counter. You turned your head to look back at him but he grabbed your hair, forcing your face forward, “Look forward, I want you to be able to see your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” You forced out shakily as you felt the back of your dress being slowly unzipped. Through the mirror, you watched as he carefully took in the view of your body, “Please don’t hurt me-”

“Have I ever hurt you before?” He interrupted you, his hands traveling over your bareback, “I’ll always protect you, princess. I just think, if I’m going to keep doing my job, we need some new rules.”

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your breast. Again, as you tried to look away, he forced your face towards the mirror again, “Don’t be shy now,” He pulled down your panties, slapping your now exposed bottom, sending a stinging pain through your skin. 

There was aching between your legs and part of you feared what he’d discover when he took a closer look. As you watched him undo his belt, a dark look in his eyes, you knew that he was going to push you all the way. He slapped your ass again, watching your body convulse as you tried to run from the pain. Surprisingly, his intimate touch only made that aching grow. 

Upon closer examination, Bucky did discover the wetness between your legs. You bit down on your lip as his fingers roamed over your sweet spot, rubbing your sensitive bulb. You bent over further, allowing him more access which caused Bucky to smirk. 

Something switched in him once again because suddenly he was pouncing again, positioning himself behind you as he pushed you further against the counter. He wanted you to see his face as he entered you, roughly grabbing your hair as he teased you entrance with his hard, throbbing cock. 

“Please…” 

“Please what? You want me to fuck you?” You closed your eyes, unwilling to answer, only to receive another smack to your bottom, “Don’t worry about what you want, princess, I’m making the decisions here.”

He stretched you as he slowly entered you and you tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Y/N,” He cursed, moving deeper inside of you. At that moment, he was all that could feel, and all that consumed your thoughts. He moved torturously slow in and out of you and you gasped every time he sunk his entire length within you. 

“Bucky!” You cried out, your mouth wide as you gripped the counter for dear life, “Ah, t-t-too big … p-please. Ah!”

He moved faster now, reaching around to grab ahold of your breast as he thrust inside of you. You called his name again and that only made him speed up his pace. He was torturing with his ferocity and now you wished he’d go back to taking it easy on you. You watched in the mirror as he split you apart, taking whatever innocence you had left within you, “Good girl, princess,” He praised you, “Taking my cock. So. Good.”

He was moving too fast now. With each thrust, he was hitting the right spot and sending pleasure in cascading waves through your body. You couldn’t take it, already tightening around his cock as you orgasm. You tried to run from it, trying to pull your body forward but he grabbed your arms, forcing you back onto his cock. Tears stung your eyes as he went even deeper. 

When he finally came, he grunted hard, his moaning deep and heavy. You were defeated, conquered, though you didn’t understand why being violated could feel so good. 

You leaned against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily, before pulling up his pants and tightening his belt again. He adjusted his earpiece before looking at you over again. Shaking, you were pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Sober now?” He asked, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s try yes sir and no sir from now on. Understand?”

“Yes… Sir.”

+

i love the whole secret service concept so i hope you enjoyed it too!

#dark fic #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky smut #marvel #marvel smut #writing challenge #bucky barnes angst #secret service!bucky #president au #politician au

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Samuel ‘Rocky’ Douglas

(My gif/there’s like no decent footage of ‘kick back’ online)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Rocky meet when you’re young. You’d lived next door to the Douglas family your entire life so it was pretty much inevitable that you’d end up becoming friends with at least one of the boys growing up. 

- Funnily enough, it wasn’t Samuel that you’d befriended, it was Jeffrey. 

- You’d tried to weasel your way into all the boys lives; and succeeded in becoming a surrogate older sister to Tum Tum over the years, but it seemed as though Sam just …didn’t like you very much. 

- Any time you were around him, he’d seemingly try to get away from you as quickly as possible, or distract himself with something so that he could barely acknowledge your presence. He’d always cut your conversations short or give you two word answers and any time you felt as though you were having a break through, he’d seem to realize that he was being friendly and close himself off yet again. 

- But Jeffrey, or Colt, would usually pull you away from his older brother anyways, distracting you with some game or activity that he wanted to play/do before you could dwell on his brothers borderline rudeness. 

- Colt had never understood why his brothers …approval; for lack of a better word, mattered so much to you and for a while, neither did you. But the older you got, the more you realized that you’d always had a bit of a crush on the boy whether you knew it or not. 

- But you couldn’t tell Colt that. Instead, you had to tell him that you just didn’t want things to always be awkward when you joined him and his brothers on their little adventures; secretly sighing in relief as he accepted the answer. 

- Unbeknownst to you, there was a reason for Rocky’s closed off attitude: he’d had a crush on you since elementary school and he’d, admittedly, never been very good with girls. 

- So, while you were wondering why your best friends brother hated you, he was internally scolding himself for not being able to say more than two words to you before his knees felt like buckling beneath him. 

- Considering how shy he was with you, things could have easily continued on like that for, well, forever. But then something changed. 

- One morning, you arrived at the Douglas house and found yourself walking into a very tense atmosphere. You could tell that Colt was upset about something and given how quiet the rest of the table was, you assumed it had something to do with one of his siblings; assumedly Rocky from the way he was avoiding the boys occasional pointed looks. 

- The minute Colt noticed you, he shot up out of his seat and pulled you out of the house with him, leaving you little time to meet the gaze of Rocky whose eyes immediately shot up to look at you. 

- As you walked, you tried to pry some information out of the boy but it was pointless, he refused to answer any of your questions, opting to stay nearly silent or telling you that it “was nothing”; even though you knew better. 

- It’s a whole week before things start to go back to normal but there’s still some tension between Rocky and Colt. Your dear pal Jeffrey, who once loved having his brothers tag along, now seems hesitant to allow his older brother to accompany you guys. …And here you thought things were awkward before. 

- Another week goes by before you learn exactly what happened. You’re sitting at home when your mother calls you, telling you that you have a guest as you head to the front door. Standing in your foyer is Rocky, a sight you never thought you’d see, and the sheer surprise you feel upon seeing him makes you stop in your tracks. 

- His eyes meet your frozen figure and he licks his lips, opening his mouth to say something before he shuts it again. A second passes before he manages to get out a “hi”, watching as you finally begin to walk towards him again. 

- You give a quiet hello in response and a beat of silence passes between you before he asks if you can talk, letting you lead him outside after you nod. 

- The two of you are quiet for a while before he turns and asks how you’ve been just as you’re about to say something to break the silence. You answer that you’re fine with a little laugh and you ask how he’s been before you ask the question that's really been on your mind. 

“Seems like you and Colt have been fighting.”

“A little I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

“...Well uh …he found out something he isn’t too happy about.” You quirked an eyebrow up at his words and asked what it was. 

“...That I …like...you.” He says slowly, as though he’s forcing himself to finally say the words. 

- The phrase could mean a few things but you immediately know exactly what he’s confessing when he says them and a small smile finds it’s way onto your face. 

“Yeah, you should never bring that sort of thing up to Colt.” You say, feeling an overwhelming urge to tease the boy just a little. 

“Yeah I guess I found that out,” He laughs a little and you can hear the nervousness in it. “So, uh...” You hum questioningly and he continues. “What do you think?”

“Think about what?”

“About …about me liking you....”

“I think I like it,” You give him a smile. “I like you too Rocky.”

- The two of you have your first date at the beach. Colt and Tum Tum probably found out you were planning on going and just immediately went with you, forcing you to come up with ways to sneakily bond with each other during your borderline disastrous date. Regardless, you still enjoyed the day, even if you didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time alone. 

- You share your first kiss when you arrive back home. Colt and Tum Tum had immediately gone inside while Rocky and you stayed behind to talk a little. He apologized for the brotherly ambush and you assured him you didn’t mind. 

- He asked if you were sure and you laughed, nodding your head …then it just sort of happened. He leaned in and then you did and your lips met in a soft quick kiss before you pulled away and said a quiet goodbye. 

- Colt may not have been too happy to spot his brother locking lips with his best friend but he got over it and gave his reluctant blessing, letting you accomplish your childhood dream of being with Samuel. 

- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship; mainly because his brothers are almost always nearby and he’s a little shy about that sort of thing. When there is pda, it’s usually pretty quick or on the friendlier appearing side of affection. 

- His arm wrapped around your shoulder whenever you’re standing together. 

- Sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around you. 

- Handholding.

- Tight hugs. He always scoops you up in one whenever he wins a game or match. 

- Cheek kisses. 

- Soft, almost featherlight kisses. 

- Hair ruffling. 

- The two of you usually cuddle snuggled into each other with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, although, if you’re going to be completely alone, he must admit that he does enjoy spooning quite a bit. 

- Gushing over him whenever he wears his glasses, assuring him that you’re not making fun of him and that he really does look good in them. 

- Holding and momentarily stealing his hats. 

- Singing songs together/singing along to the radio.

- Teaching him about your interests and hobbies. He likes learning about them and trying them out whenever he can; even though he’s probably awful at them or knows he won’t like them.

- He likes looking at you whenever you aren't looking. You’ll catch him staring at you after you snap out of a daze or look away from whatever it was you were gazing at. He usually just shakes his head with a small smile whenever you ask him “what”.

- When you’re together, you’ll probably want to hang out somewhere outside or at your house; considering he shares a tiny room with both his brothers and you’ll never be completely left alone if you stay there.

- His brothers constantly interrupting the two of you.

- Both his brothers and occasionally his grandfather teasing him about you. He gets really shy about the whole thing and they love embarrassing him before you show up.

- He tends to just call you by your given name, though it’s very likely that he or one of his siblings/grandfather will come up with a nickname for you and he’ll use that a lot.

- Playing baseball; or all the other sports he plays, with him. He likes being able to teach you and watch you get all excited when you get better.

- Going to his games. 

- Letting him teach you karate. He always shoots his brothers dirty and warning looks when they laugh at you.

- Motivating and cheering him on at everything he does.

- He looks back at you whenever he’s going to do something, making sure that you’re watching before he does something impressive. He likes showing off when you’re around.

- Taking walks in the woods together.

- Climbing and sitting in trees.

- Talking over the phone/tin can. He always has to call you to say goodnight.

- Getting visited whenever you’re sick. He comes to make sure you’re okay and keep you company; even if he gets a little sick himself.

- He’s always jumping to help you; even when you tell him to do the opposite or that you don’t need his help. It’s endearing yet annoying.

- Riding bikes together. 

- Playing video games together; he either lets you win or tries to sabotage you depending on the day.

- Helping him cook and bake. You’re usually joined by Tum Tum who you have to watch very closely to ensure that the food actually gets made instead of consumed before it’s cooked.

- Getting taken to meet his grandfather or having Rocky introduce you to the man as his girlfriend after the two of you get together; at his brothers insistence. 

- He occasionally likes to sneak up on you and tap your shoulder from behind to make you jump. You can’t even be mad at him, not when you turn and see the smile he has on. 

- He hates seeing you upset and always asks a bunch of questions in an attempt to find out exactly what happened, making promises and trying his best to cheer you up while he does so.

- He’s pretty reasonable when it comes to jealousy so he doesn’t get jealous very often. On the off chance that he does, he’ll be patient but will tell the guy to back off if he doesn’t leave you alone; and if he’s obviously making you uncomfortable. 

-  Speaking of telling guys to back off, he’s always ready to defend or protect you when necessary. He’ll also always go look for you when you disappear or are gone for longer than you should be, wanting to make sure you’re okay and that nothing happened. 

- He has a habit of snapping when he’s embarrassed or mad so expect a snide comment or two. You’ll usually just say something along the lines of “ok geez” in response and a moment or two of silence will pass before the guilt gets to him and he sighs, beginning to explain himself and/or apologize. 

- If you have a real fight, he’ll do whatever he can to make you forgive him. He always makes promises, even if he doesn’t exactly follow through on them; but he does have the best intentions regardless. 

- He tells you that he loves you quite a bit; even though his brothers tease him for it. He just smiles at you and gives them a shove in response, not caring what they think. 

- A guy who loves you through puberty is definitely a keeper so congratulations on finding your ninja, honey. 

#3 ninjas imagine #3 ninjas imagines #3 ninjas headcanons #3 ninjas headcanon #rocky douglas imagine #rocky douglas headcanons #rocky douglas imagines #rocky douglas headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

For dayton can you write being childhood best friends with him and you've always been there at his races and one day your running late so you don't get to see him before for his pep talk. And his race goes horribly and eventually when he sees you he gets angry and you get in to a argument. But eventually he makes it up to you.

A/N: Alright, here’s my first go at writing for Dayton White! I watched Logan Lucky and absolutely adored it. Dayton does not get the love he deserves! I decided Im going to make this at least a two parter, potentially spanning into one or two more. I really want to dive into the past with these two! This will focus more on their relationship growing up, while the second (and potentially third) part will contain more of the angst. Once again if I don’t write for a Seb character you like, just ask and I’ll try and gain access to it! I hope you guys enjoy. I also really hate to do this, but I recently quit my job due to a toxic work environment. Here is my ko-fi, if you can donate that would be cool, but if you can’t no pressure!!! Love you all ❤️

https://ko-fi.com/kyleey01

Pairings: Dayton White x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, no proofreading (I’ll get to it)

Word Count: 2.5k

You’re Always There Part 1

Your earliest memory of Dayton was meeting him at Memorial Park in your hometown. You were both 5 years old, new to the world outside of your home. It was the day before Kindergarten, and both of your parents wanted you to make new friends before the first day of school. Hopefully meeting someone in your class, they felt you wouldn’t be as scared being truly away from them for the first time. You only had a single mom, and she did everything for you that she could, even taking you to the park after her long day at work. Dayton had both parents, making it easier for him to let go and meet new people. His home was “complete” by societal standards.

“Mommy I don’t wanna go play on the slide. I wanna go home and play dinosaurs with you” you said looking up at your mother.

She kneeled down to look you in the eye, holding her shining gaze with yours looking both serious and concerned, “Honey, you know you go to school tomorrow. This is your chance to go meet someone new, maybe even have a friend when you go into school tomorrow.”

You were extremely hesitant. You loved your momma, and she loved you more than anything. You had friends on your street that you liked to play with, but your mom was never far away, only a quick yell and she would be there. This was different. She had told you she wasn’t going to be there if you needed her, and that you would have to wait until school was over to see her again. You cried for two days straight after you had the “school” talk. What were you going to do without your mom? She was your superhero, your friend, and the best mother in the whole wide world. You didn’t need anyone else. That’s what you thought, at least. Until you met Dayton.

“Go on chickadee, go make some friends. You’re a big girl now who can build pyramids with blocks and cut out dinosaurs with scissors, you can do anything” your mother said with a smile.

This was all you needed to muster up the courage to conquer the slide. You nodded at your mom and ran off towards the wooden playground. They really should’ve made these things plastic, with splinters and bee stings being common afflictions of being on the playground, but it didn’t matter to you. It was fun all the same.

You began to climb the steps of the huge castle, making your way through drawbridges and holes through the wood to get to the slide. There were two other little girls there, a little older than you, maybe seven. You mustered up a quiet “hi” but they didn’t hear you, already screaming and running off in a different direction. Just when your hopes of making a friend had been dashed, you heard another voice from behind you.

“Hi. What’s your name?”

A boy of brunette hair and ocean blue eyes was staring at you expectantly. You weren’t expecting anyone to respond except those girls, so you were timid at first. You opened your mouth to speak several times but nothing came out. You started to become overwhelmed, tears welling up in your eyes.

The boy noticed, looking at you confused. He had only asked you your name. However, his momma always said if someone was crying, you fix it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me your name. Do you need a hug?”

All you could do was nod, strangely opening up to this welcoming boy. He smiled and brought you in for a tiny hug. He wants gentle, kind of rough actually as he swayed you back and forth with energy. He pulled away, hoping you had felt better. You did.

“I’m Dayton” he said, smiling at you.

You smiled back, with tear stains still on your cheek.

“I’m Y/N”

“Y/N, it looks like you need another hug” Dayton gave you another hug, holding you until he stopped hearing the faint sniffle that escaped your body every so often.

You pulled away, nodding to indicate you were alright now.

“You wanna go down the slide? My mommy is probably wondering where I am” Dayton asked innocently.

You nodded, relief washing over you that someone wanted to be your friend

“That sounds awesome.”

_______________________________________________

From that day forward, you and Dayton were attached at the hip. Elementary school had been a breeze. Thankfully, Dayton was in your class your first year. Although it didn’t stay that way, you would always find time to meet and play during recess. Recess time turned into meeting after school, and meeting after school extended into high school.

Dayton began racing during freshman year. Your school offered a racing club which allowed students to meet after school and go to various tracks in the state to see what it was like to race. You and Dayton had always gone Go-Kart driving on the weekends, but you never thought it would turn into anything serious. Dayton, however, has found his passion. He started building his own race car after school sophomore year, and even asked if you would come over to help. You knew absolutely nothing about building a race car, but Dayton wanted you to be there and that’s all that mattered.

“Y’know I know nothing about building a damn car right? Do YOU even know anything about building a car?” you posed to Dayton in an almost accusatory tone.

“As a matter of fact, Y/N, I have been studying how to build this ‘damn car’ for over a year now, so why don’t you put a little respect on Francine’s name?”

“Well, Dayton, I suggest you begin studying geometry before you fail the quarter. And you named the thing already? Is it your lover or you car?”

“It’s both” he gave you a weird wink, one on the left, and then another on the right in secession.

“You are absolutely gross, White. I can’t believe I ever agreed to go down that slide with you when we were five. It was probably all apart of your evil plan to keep me from being someone else’s best friend just so I could build this car with you” you rolled your eyes as you sat on the hood of his family car.

“God you’re so right. You caught me. Our entire friendship has been a sham, and it all led up to this moment. And now that I finally have you where I want you...” he said with a low growl, planting both of his hands on either side of you as you sat on the hood of his car.

“I’m gonna get ya!” He said tickling your sides

You shrieked, absolutely taken aback that his hands were all over you.

God, his hands were all over you.

Alright, maybe he is cute, but there was no way you two would ever date. You came to that conclusion a long time ago. Your crush developed in the 6th grade, which is absolutely astounding considering middle schoolers are anything but normal. Even in the most awkward stage of life Dayton still managed to be charming and cute as ever. You were determined to tell him, but he would never shut up about Stacey Waterson. You hated her with every fiber of your being. What was wrong with you after all? You had it all, at least that’s what your mom said. You were decently pretty, immensely funny, and his best friend. You shared everything together. What more could he want? Well, the answer to that question would be Stacey Waterson. He wanted her, and not you.

You came back to from the tickling after laughing for what seemed like minutes. Your sides were hurting from contracting your ab muscles for too long. You pushed Dayton off of you playfully, but he pounced back on you, pinning your arms above your head.

“Say the password and I’ll let you go” he stared you down, being absolutely serious.

However, you wanted to double check.

“You can’t be serious” you retorted back, completely flustered due to the situation you were currently in on top of the incessant tickling that occurred just moments before.

“Oh, I’m serious. Say the password and I’ll let you go!” He said with a huge smile on his face.

“Jesus Christ, let me go you dick” you said while struggling to get up.

Dayton made a loud buzzing sound in your face.

“Try again!”

“Dayton come on let me up!”

Dayton made another loud buzzing sound in your face.

“Come on Y/N, just one little word and this can all go away. All you gotta do is say..”

“Goddamnit Dayton, chicken! Chicken for fuck’s sake” you said waiting for his response.

Dayton made another loud buzzing sound in your face.

“I’m sorry, that’s the old password. There’s a new password” he smiled at you, knowing this was ridiculous.

You finally mustered up the strength to push him off of you.

“What do you mean the password has changed!”

The password “chicken” has been used in every single scenario since you first let. For whatever reason, You and Dayton found that word hilarious when you were at a birthday party in the third grade. It was Danny Henry’s 8th birthday, and of course it was chicken themed. Every child gets infatuated with a new thing every year. Danny happened to live on a farm, and all year he wouldn’t stop talking about getting a pet chicken. You all wore chicken hats, there were chicken plates, a chicken cake. There was even a “Pin the Beak on the Chicken” game which, if you do say so yourself, was way more entertaining than “Pin the Tail on the Donkey.” You and Dayton lost it by the time your mom picked you up from the party, absolutely hysterical in the backseat. Ever since then, it was your secret password for everything.

“I was thinking we should change stuff up. Make up a new password, it has been seven years since we thought of one.”

“Oh yeah? And what is this new life changing password that is soooo good that our childhood memory is being brushed under the rug?” you question.

Dayton had an almost hurt look on his face, but he proposed the new password to you anyways. 

“I thought the new password could be Francine. Y’know, I just think this is another great milestone in our friendship, working on this car and all. This day is really important to me and I’m glad you’re here” he said with sincerity.

You didn’t know what to say. This day did mean a lot to him, and your friendship overall. 

You nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, the new password is Francine. However, I will still be accepting chicken as a password in the future.”

Dayton smiled one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen.

“Deal. Now, let’s get this car on the road. We have a lot of work to do if I’m gonna be ready for my first ever official race next Saturday.”

______________________________________________

Race day was here. You woke up early next Saturday morning and drove over to Dayton’s house to pick him up to go to the race track. Dayton’s dad was taking his race car down in their trailer, but you and Dayton wanted to head to your special place before the race. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Dayton had until noon to get to the race track. 

Ever since the 6th grade, you and Dayton would walk to this rock in the woods after school to talk about your day. Your mom got home at seven every night, so you only had four hours to do something before she got home and realized you were “missing.” You talked about everything on that rock, and that rock was also where you realized you had the biggest crush on someone since your infatuation with Paul Rudd in “Clueless.”

You pulled up in your beat up Dodge Intrepid, newly sporting your license. You grabbed some granola bars and bottles of orange juice to enjoy while sitting on the rock.

You both sat down on ground, leaning up against the thing. You both sighed and enjoyed the crisp cool morning air. Finally, you broke the silence.

“You nervous for today?”

Dayton looked down between his legs while chewing on his granola bar.

“I am absolutely terrified. I mean, what if I mess up?”

You laughed a little.

He looked at you with confusion.

“What’s so funny?” 

You shook your head.

“it’s your first are Dayton. It’s okay to be nervous and even mess up. At the end of the day, everyone is going to be proud of you. We’ll all tell you how great you did because we know how much you care about this. You’ll do amazing.”

He smiled, almost not expecting such kind words to come from your mouth.

“You’re something else Y/N, ya know that?”

“Oh yeah? Stacey Waterson is something else too I bet” you said half jokingly, half serious.

He rolled his eyes. 

“Who gives a fuck about Stacey Waterson when I have a girl like you to cheer me on and surprisingly gives the best pep talks.”

“Well the way I see it she was the one who got the invitation to prom, not little old me who will be spending that Saturday night in my basement playing my PlayStation.” 

He shook his head again.

“I never asked Stacey to prom.”

You suddenly shifted to look at him square in the face.

“What?”

“I said, I didn't ask Stacey to prom.”

You were dumbfounded. He told you he was absolutely determined to take her. What had changed?

“W-Why? Why didn’t you ask her?”

He kept smiling and shaking his head.

“God Y/N, for being one of the smartest girls I have ever met you really can be dumb sometimes.”

“Excuse you, Dayton White, I happen to be taking AP U.S History, Honors Biology, and-”

That’s when you thought heaven had fell down from the skies and landed right on that rock.

Dayton had leaned in and kissed you. God, why did he have to be so charming?

He slowly took your lip into his mouth and gently sucked on it. You reciprocated by taking his top lip into your mouth and began moving your mouth with his. Time had stopped. It felt like you had molded into one person, enjoying the sensation of each other’s lips. 

He finally pulled away, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Do you understand now?”

You nodded, still stunned by his actions.

“I think we better go. I wanna see this handsome boy I kissed win his first race.”

#dayton white #dayton white x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan characters #logan lucky

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get some childhood headcanons for the mercs, thank you!

I’m taking a break from the longer headcanons - I’m finishing all my existing requests before opening up my headcanons back up - so I’ll do this one to get the gears turning. There are two here, but I will do more if prompted:

TF2 Merc Childhood Headcanons

Spy:

Spy was a shy child. Painfully shy.

His family was poor, so he had to steal most necessities. By the time he was twelve, he could hop or climb over most fences and hide in most buildings.

The entire reason he became a spy was seeing poorly translated VHS tapes of American espionage films. Spy was frustrated that he never looked the part - he had no suit, no cigarette, no girls.

But, not to worry, he would get all of those things when he went to Britain for schooling.

As a child, though, all he could do was pretend.

He had a “gun” made out of sticks and rope, mimed having a tie, hat, and overcoat, and drew a few shaky feminine features onto a pillow (whom he dubbed Mademoiselle Coussin).

This change in play actually helped him socially: whenever he felt nervous, he would just pretend he was a spy instead of a petite, messy-haired boy with freckles. This caused his popularity among the street boys to spike, and they were soon at his beck and call.

However, despite his fulfilling life as a street rat, he turned back into that timid mouse of a boy whenever he was home. He never dared use his charm on his parents. He already caught a flogging when he tried slicking his hair back.

This led to an odd, one-sided relationship with life where he put on two different masks for two different places, but could only be his true self when he was alone.

He learned to stifle and release emotions at will (keeping himself from crying when he was hit and then letting the tears flow when he was fooling unsuspecting tourists), and was cynical about any relationship that didn’t benefit him immediately or at all.

Except for one.

Every Christmas, a specific fruit vendor, an elderly man named Lucas, came to town. He would give one piece of fruit, usually an apple or peach, to every child that came to his stand. They never had to pay - they only had to say Merry Christmas.

Spy only hung around the stand for the first few years - his house was so far away that by the time he got there, most of the fruit was gone - but one Christmas, Lucas beckoned him over.

The vendor reached beneath his cart and pulled out a single orange, which happened to be Spy’s favorite.

“Joyeux Noël.”

“J-joyeux Noël, monsieur.”

Lucas held out the orange, which Spy accepted gratefully and held in two tight hands.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur! Merci, merci!”

Lucas only smiled and waved his hand.

This became a tradition for many more years.

Spy would come to the cart, wish Lucas a warm holiday, and would receive an orange that had been saved for him.

But, one Christmas, Lucas didn’t come. Nor the next one. Or the one after that.

Even though Spy knew he was never going to get an orange from that cart again, he still went to that street every Christmas until he left France.

Now, whenever Spy receives an orange, either as a mandated vitamin supplement or if he happens to steal one from a witness’s house, he puts it in his suit, only eating it in his smoke room.

And if he is feeling particularly nostalgic, he’ll, just like he did when he was a child, eat the peel.

Heavy:

Heavy had a wonderful childhood compared to most of mercs.

His father was only vaguely present - and later absent - but his mother was a huge force in his life.

Though Heavy was never bullied exactly, since he was big even as a child, he was ostracized for his size and general clumsiness.

He often broke things, hurt other kids and even staff, and put holes in the wall simply because he was a pre-schooler in an elementary schooler sized body.

But, no matter how many calls she got from the school, Heavy’s mom knew that he wasn’t violent - all she asked was for him to try and fix what he had broken and apologize to the people he had hurt.

“My child, a bear may be big, but they are strong and beautiful. So are you.”

One day, after a particularly rough week of shattered vases and bruised classmates, Heavy ran from school into a random building, blinded by tears and shame. He ended up ticketless in a large theater, but he was only a child, so no one noticed. They assumed he was just someone’s kid.

He ended up on the roof, breathless and gasping between sobs.

Suddenly, he heard an orchestra beginning to play. He looked through a glass pane built into the roof and gazed at the stage below.

He saw one petite ballerina making her way across the stage, doing a few twirls as she went. Then, a much bigger man, who was almost as big as Heavy’s father was, came from stage right and joined in the dance.

Throughout their performance, Heavy kept wincing, expecting the enormous man to crush the small woman. But he never did. The performer moved with grace and a quickness that the boy didn’t expect.

Something awakened in him - a realization that he too could be nimble, despite his size. As the performance ended, Heavy went back down the stairs, his confidence renewed.

He became fascinated with ballet, and watched tapes of shows over and over again until he knew all the steps by heart. At first, he only moved his feet so his arms wouldn’t break anything. Then, as he grew more controlled, he learned how to dance and step around things.

His mother got less calls home, more and more kids began to trust and like him.

He still wasn’t popular by any means, but at least he could play soccer without breaking someone’s arm.

With that success came interests in all things quick, dainty, and detailed. Heavy learned how to knit, paint, and play a bit of piano. He was never very skilled at any of them except for knitting, he enjoyed practicing his coordination and mitigating his clumsiness.

But, one day, Heavy made the mistake of bringing his knitting to school. It was around Christmas, and he had to finish his sister’s sweater so he could wrap it.

The boys, who now knew that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly, started teasing him mercilessly, calling him a sow (female pig), a bitch, an old crone, and all sorts of other nasty names.

Heavy, with growing frustration, said something along the lines of, “Will it be your dead mother, then, who will mend your shirt when you are old? Or will you willingly catch your death?”

What Heavy didn’t know was that one particular child’s mother died a few months ago.

The boy went into a rage, giving Heavy a black eye and a bleeding nose before he finally took him by the underarms and held him away from him like a rabid chihuahua. Finally, the boy tired himself out. The other kids had since run away, not wanting to get in trouble or get beat up by Heavy.

The bully, after finding that he was helpless to the situation, began to cry, letting out all the emotions he had been shoving down in order to save face in front of his abusive father.

Heavy went straight into protective mode, having dealt with his younger sisters and their own grievances. After the bully calmed down a bit, he admitted his feelings, and how awful his circumstances were.

Heavy didn’t say anything much, but just handed him a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. The boy learned to knit that day, and after Christmas, many other abused boys came seeking the same kind of closure and validation.

He made many friends this way, and it pretty much eradicated his bullying problem - so much so that he was pretty much untouchable to anyone looking to make trouble.

Though violence is how Heavy makes his money now, the merc learned from the very beginning that the best way through life is a gentle touch.

#tf2 #tf2 fandom #tf2 headcanons #tf2 headcanon #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 mercs #ask blog #send asks #send anons #humor #funny post #just for laughs #funny content #funny