#the RAGE these girls feel when one of them buys him like. a sweatshirt or hat and the next day fucking mochi is wearing it

[musubiki]

love the idea that for big gift events like limes birthday/christmas/valentines day, lime just has a MASS of gifts from all the girls at school who like him, and then while hes opening them up mochi is RIGHT THERE getting first dibs at the stuff he doesnt want

#sometimes mochi just starts opening shit and going (ooh so cute!!) and hes like (uhhh yeah thanks for asking first sure you can have that) #the occasional moment where someone hands something to him and hes so tired he just passes it straight to mochi without even looking at it #its usually like snacks or something since no one really knows him well enough to buy him something hed actually really like #the RAGE these girls feel when one of them buys him like. a sweatshirt or hat and the next day fucking mochi is wearing it #and when they get mad hes like (What? it was too small for me. plus its mine now so i can do what i want with it) #OR mochi: haha what a coincidence i just bought the same one from [store]!! seems this style is popular!! #and its not beyond reasonable doubt so they just sit there mad #when mochi runs out of snacks but instead of buying more she thinks (ah but limes birthday is soon so that means free snack restock...) #full disclosure he tells all of them REPEATEDLY not to buy him things and warns them what will probably happen #but no one listens as usual #oscar and coco eventually sitting there too like (can i have that--) and he goes (if mochi doesnt want it you guys can have it)

[luwritesomething]

JJ MAYBANK HEADCANONS PART 2 !!

i said i was bringing a part 2 and here it is. part 1 is here. jj deserves love and validation and i'm here to give him both. also this is longer,,,

• can play the ukelele because kiara taught him some chords but never actually learned all the other chords because he has a lack of patience.

• makes a lot of disney movie references.

• his favorites are simba ones

• he makes a lot of dad jokes

• and bad jokes

• he does a lot of jokes

• he thinks they are hilarious

• one time he spent half and hour laughing at his own joke

• kiara timed it.

• jj laughs at friendship bracelets but he wants one so bad.

• he really likes it when kiara or pope start rambling about smartass - as he puts it - things and he can't understand shit. he likes to listen to them.

• and boy is he a great listener

• wants to have two kids and teach them how to surf.

• considered joining the selling weed business but pope convinced him it was a horrible idea.

• he really likes how vanilla smells but doesn't like the taste

• also, jj's favorite color is blue

• and green

• and he likes red a lot

• oh and also grey

• and that's probably what he'd say if you ask him

• he can't decide

• he was the kid that when someone was going to buy him an ice-cream he would collapse at the time of choosing between chocolate and strawberry

• then ended up always picking strawberry

• because he doesn't like the little pieces of chocolate that the ice-cream brings.

• jj takes the most stupid decisions when he is stressed

• also when he is not because stupid decisions have good outcomes all the time.

• jj is clingy and he is constantly hugging his friends

• he's touch starved, my poor baby.

• WANTS A DOG AND HE WANTS TO CALL HIM RUFUS AND TEACH HIM TO GO THROUGH THESE PLASTIC COLORFUL HOOPS AND TO BRING HIM HIS HATS AND HIS CAPS AND TO BE HIS FUCKING BEST FRIENDS.

• he bets on everything

• and he loses a lot of bets.

• "ten bucks he falls from his board in like ten seconds"

• "bet"

• has 'acab' drawn on his sneaker's sole.

• swears like a sailor

• he would always try not to swear in front of his friends' parents.

• he knows he is already considered the bad influence and he doesn't want to cause his friends any trouble.

• another book he has read is the first one of the series the famous five

• he still owns that book and has read it like a hundred times

• he really likes it.

• can't understand communism

• and doesn't know why we can't print more money

• "inflation, deflation! whatever it is, it's all made up!"

• raging feminist

• if he wasn't a feminist he would be the type to do the 'that's what she said' jokes

• but he is so,,,

• thinks chapstick and lipstick are hot

• dances. a lot. and really good. he really likes dancing.

• master with the skate. his cousin ricky taught him.

• won't apply sunscreen unless someone applies it for him.

• he steals things for the people he likes as in,,, his friends. if you don't accept it he gets upset.

• jj digs mayo as much as he digs surfing.

• he only uses blue ink pens.

• doesn't know how to pray.

• he has family on florida, but he only saw them once - it's the family of the cousin with the dolls.

• kiwis makes his tongue itch.

• would let his girl friends - as in friends who are girls - put make up on him and paint his nails in the most horrible colors, as long as they take it off afterwards and take no pictures.

• GREY SWEATPANTS JJ GREY SWEATPANTS JJ GREY SWEATPANTS JJ,,,

• he has this cozy big grey sweatshirt and cozy grey sweatpants he wears 24/7 on winter and cold summer nights

• he's very private about his nights and the girls he hooks up with. when he does brag, he gives no names unless he is talking to kie - his biggest confidant.

• jj has no feeling for kie lol fuck it

• hates school

• for some reason he's really good at physical education and chemistry.

• john b teased him for months about liking chemistry.

• he has like, what, five jobs and likes none of them because he still hasn't gotten over the fact he will never be able to be a kook.

• he's banned from mcdonald's for life

• pope has to get his happy meals.

• taco bell >>> mcdonald's

• happy meal >>> everything else

• survives on junk, fatty, processed food and only works out on his own for like one day every two weeks

• and john b hates him for it.

• has a thing for cherry chapstick. drives him crazy.

• he would be good at spanish if he at least tried.

• you bet he has a drawer with clothes of his own in all his friends' rooms - and at ricky's too.

• he feels cold easily, even on summer.

• and he gets like a baby when he is cold.

• he throws tantrums, a lot.

• jj's in dire need of attention.

• he pets every single dog he sees on the street. he's going late to work? doesn't matter, he's taking his time to pet the fucking dog anyways.

• most loyal friends (and boyfriends). CANON.

• he'll defend you with his life, even if he knows you're not right.

#jj maybank my beloved #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #obx headcanons #rudy pankow

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (21/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,110

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, fluffiness, SMUT

masterlist

a/n: you guys

“Stevie?” You murmured softly as you laid on his chest, tracing shapes on his shoulder absentmindedly.

“Yeah, honey?” He asked with a grunt, his eyes closed. He was clearly really, really close to falling asleep, but…

You couldn’t sleep.

You were wide awake, the only sign of exhaustion being the ache between your legs.

Steve had just gotten back from a mission a few hours before. It had been no contact for a week as he took down this bad guy or that bad guy in… Where was it this past time? South Korea? Seoul, you were pretty sure.

Though, you didn’t understand why he was considered ‘undercover’ anywhere, considering the fact that he kind of stood out no matter what he did.

“Have you… Have you ever thought about marriage?” You asked, voice trembling. You two had been together for a few months, but… He’d already told you he loved you.

And you just wanted to know if you two were on the same page for the future.

Your boyfriend’s body went tense underneath you, and a sense of dread filled your heart.

You knew you shouldn’t have asked such a dumb fucking question.

“Sweetheart…,” he said slowly, coughing to clear the lump in his throat as he smoothed down your hair. “You know I love you, right?” He relaxed a little as you responded immediately with an affirming nod.

You sat up as he did, straddling him as he cupped your face in his hands. You needed to be close to him, pressed against his chest and leeching his warmth.

“The man that wanted marriage… kids… the whole picket fence thing…” He took in a shaky breath. “He died in the ice… That’s not saying that I don’t want a future with you, because I do! You’re my girl. You’re my forever,” he said reassuringly, his lips finding your forehead. “I don’t need to involve the government to know that—they’ve involved themselves in my business enough—or a dumb piece of paper. If you want a ring, I’ll buy you all the rings you could ever want.” Steve gave you a warm smile, the same smile that was plastered all over tabloids and history books alike. “Besides… We don’t need a piece of paper as long as we’ve got each other, right?” He asked.

“Right,” you said without hesitation, giggling as his lips pressed to yours and he flipped you over, ready to ravish you all over again.

“Malen’kaya?”

You stared out the window above the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water.

“Honey?”

Vaguely, you can hear the mirth in his voice, tinged with a bit of worry.

But you’re too busy staring out the window, watching as the storm raged outside and rain pounded against the glass.

“Sweetheart? Darling?”

You’d watched Steve leave you from this window. Your life had ended, or so you thought.

So much had changed since then, and… And it was all for the better.

You jumped a foot in the air as gentle hands found your hips. His metal appendage slipped under your sweatshirt, gently rubbing your tummy. “H-Hi.”

“Hi,” he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? You’ve been staring off into space for ten minutes.”

Sure enough, you realized that the formerly hot water in the sink had gone cold and most of the bubbles had disappeared.

“I was just thinking…”

“Oh, yeah? Sounds dangerous.” He let out a laugh as you smacked his arm, not caring that you were getting him wet.

“I was just thinking about the last time we were here and I was in this spot… and how much better my life is,” you said.

You could feel his sharp inhale at your words, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles into your skin. “Yeah? You mean it, pretty girl?” He asked, his lips ghosting against your shoulder.

“I mean it.”

Bliss surrounded you two like a heavy blanket as he held you, the both of you relishing the closeness.

“Maybe we should just stay here forever,” you said with a lazy smile, finishing the dishes as he held you.

Bucky hummed softly, his eyes closed. There was no way he was going to disagree. “Why are you washing the dishes by hand if we’ve got a dishwasher? A very expensive one, might I add.”

“Because,” you snorted, rinsing your hands and drying them after letting the water out. “Sometimes it’s better to do things yourself…” Heart warm, you let your head fall back against his shoulder as he slowly began to rock you back and forth.

A hum from deep in his chest lulled you, some forties song.

“Heaven… I’m in heaven,” he started to sing, surprisingly well. “And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak, and I seem to find the happiness I seek when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek…”

It was all you had ever dreamed of, when you were younger. Like in that dingy motel room. Despite knowing it was wrong and he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that, you had so wanted the Soldat to love you. You had wanted him to take you like how the older girls had talked about when you were barely a teenager.

Of course, it hadn’t been your Soldat doing that. He wasn’t like that.

But the other Soldats had been, and you were lucky that yours had protected you so well as you’d gotten older.

“Yes, heaven… I'm in heaven, and the cares that hung around me through the week seems to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak when we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

“Isn’t this song usually a lot faster?” You asked, a smirk playing on your lips. “Are you just so elderly that you can’t keep up, Barnes?” Squeals filled the air as he tickled your sides, and you thrashed in his hold. “Jamie! Jamie! No!”

Hot breath tickled against your ear as he stopped. “Are you gonna let me be all sweet with you or are you gonna keep being such a brat?” He asked, squeezing you close once again.

God, you’d let him sweet with you all he wanted and then some.

“I guess you can be sweet with me,” you said after a moment, voice breathy and barely audible. “Especially since you actually aren’t a half-bad singer.”

“Not as good as you,” he said, beginning to rock you once more as lightning lit up the sky outside, a clap of thunder following soon after. “I love listening in when you’re putting Morgan to sleep… singing her those little lullabies…” He pressed a kiss to your hair before he continued on, “Oh, I'd love to climb the mountain, reach the highest peak, but it doesn't thrill me half as much as dancing cheek to cheek.” He finished the rest of the song, before humming a faint melody as your head lulled back against his shoulder.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world, James.”

“And you’re mine.”

Bucky, the loving man that he is, led you to the couch and tucked himself in beside you. “Friday, turn on the fireplace,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you. The hunk of a man pulled you to his chest and onto his lap. “You know, if we keep joking about staying here forever, I’m gonna take it seriously and you’ll be stuck here with me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,” you said, your lower lip tugged between your teeth as you leaned back against him. Your fingers ran up and down his arm, tickling his skin. “Just you and me… Maybe Morgan can come visit…”

“Or we can go live in the woods like a bunch of cavemen,” he said. You could feel his lips turning into a slow smile against your shoulder. “You wanna watch a movie? We could continue on our journey of catching me up on pop culture.”

You turned to look at him, mouth opening with a response. But as soon as you looked into his eyes, every thought you had ever had just disappeared.

The cerulean of his eyes seemed to pop, glittering in the flickering warm light of the fire. Shadows danced on his face and for a moment you could’ve sworn he was a Greek god.

You have compared him to Hades many a time in your head.

Bucky breathed out your name, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“James… I—” You suddenly cut yourself off as you rushed forward, pressing your lips to his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It wasn’t like the one from the aquarium. This one held so much more.

“I need you,” he breathed out as he kissed you over and over again, his hands cupping your face. His broad chest was pressed against yours as he moved one arm to wrap it around you and lay you down on the soft couch. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this.”

“Trust me, I’ve probably been dreaming of it longer,” you insisted with a snort, the two of you laughing into the kiss.

You never used to laugh with Steve during sex. It was always so serious, so intense.

You liked being able to laugh while the love of your life was holding you, touching you, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

Bucky pulled back enough to look you in the eyes. “Absolutely not. I’ve been dreaming of it way longer than you have.”

You sit up on your elbows so you can kiss your noses together. “Jamie… I’ve been dreaming of this since I was sixteen.” A smile spread over your face as you watched his cheeks go red.

“That’s not fair,” he insisted as he pouted at you. “If I wanted you like that back then, I would’ve been a sicko. You were allowed to have a crush on me without being a creep.”

There’s another round of kiss-drunk giggles as you peck his lips over and over again. “Not my fault. Though I do really appreciate that you didn’t see me that way when I was a literal child.”

His vibranium hand slips up underneath your top, tickling your tummy as he left a trail of kisses down your neck. “Not that I didn’t find you absolutely adorable back then, but can we please not talk about you as a child right now?” He murmured against the delicate skin of your neck.

“Yeah, I guess that’s fine,” you said, trying to joke but losing your voice as his lips found a particularly sweet spot right along your collarbone. “Oh, Jamie…” Your skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere he touches you. “Fuck…” You barely heard him curse about how small the couch was for his super soldier frame, before he scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Arms wrapping around him, you found his lips again as you kissed him deeper. “Where we goin,’ Jamie?” You asked with an impish grin.

“Right here,” he said, chuckling as he laid you down on the fur rug in front of the fireplace.

Tony had resorted to only buying fur from indigenous vendors. Hell, he’d given Natasha a whole lecture about how her faux fur and faux leather (AKA plastic) clothing and accessories were worse for the environment than real fur and leather.

Which was true.

He’d spent the last decade of his life doing everything he could to turn his life around, even though he did mess up quite a few times.

But you’d rather not be thinking about the environmental logistics of fur at the moment.

The only thing about fur you wanted to think about was how soft it was against your skin as Bucky laid you down, leaning over you and pecking your lips over and over again.

“Comfortable?” He mumbled in between kisses.

The fire crackled beside you as you nodded breathlessly, shivering as his hand found its way to the hem of your shirt, tugging on it.

“Can I take this off, darlin?’” He asked, his voice husky and deep, slow like molasses.

You were pretty sure you heard a bit of his old Brooklyn accent slipping in there.

Fuck, that was fucking hot.

“Please,” you said, lifting your arms so he could tug it off of your frame and toss it somewhere to the side.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” the man breathed out as he looked at you under him. His hands went to your cotton sleep shorts next, and his eyes flicked up to meet yours in a silent question.

“I trust you,” you said, lifting your hips for him.

It was like a wave of reassurance had washed over him. He carefully tugged your shorts down and pulled them down your legs. The shorts did get caught on your foot, and he scowled as he had to untangle it, though he clearly wasn’t actually mad.

The air was soft and light around you, which you hadn’t been expecting. When you’d had sex with anyone else, it was always so heavy and hot and intense. Stifling, was the word you were looking for. It felt like you were performing when you were naked with anyone else.

With James, in your mismatched laundry day lingerie, you felt more like yourself than you ever had been.

“I like this,” he teased as he nodded to your Calvin Klein bralette and your bright tie-dye patterned panties. His flesh hand had wrapped around your ankle and was holding your foot up so it was up at his chest. “I didn’t know it was possible to look so cute and so sexy at the same time.” He pressed a kiss to your inner ankle, right next to the bone. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Jamie,” you whined, instinctively covering your face. “Stop it.”

“What? Nah. That would make me a liar. A liar by omission,” he said as he kissed up your calf, taking his sweet time. Occasionally he’d give a little nip and smirk at the way you jumped. “And baby girl, we both know I’d never lie to you.”

You’d never been loved on the way he was loving on you. Your insecurities seemed to disappear under his heated but adoring gaze. “James…” You wanted to reach out and pull him to you for another kiss, but at the same time, you never wanted him to stop the trail he was leaving up to your knee.

“You know, I could spend hours just looking at you…,” he said as he started to lay down between your legs, his lips pressed against your inner thigh. “I went to art school back in the day… and I could fill an entire gallery with pictures, sketches, paintings, sculptures of you.”

Despite how calm he seemed, you could feel the slight trembling of his hands, could hear the waver in his voice.

He was nervous.

His baby blues focused in on the wet spot at the front of your panties, his breath hitching in his throat. “Can I touch you, baby doll? Please?” The second you nodded, his hands were on the thin, silky fabric, and you gasped as you heard the tell-tale rip.

“You ripped my panties?! Those are one of my favorite pairs!” You whined, pouting. “And all my other pairs are in the laundry!”

“Good thing I can buy you a million more,” he shot back with a sheepish grin. “And I don’t think you’re gonna need panties for the rest of the day, honey. Or clothing, for that matter.”

Rolling your eyes, you peeled your bra off your body and threw it in the general direction of the couch. “You’re such a bad influence.” But every thought in your head completely disappeared as he leaned in and his tongue ran through your slick folds. The moan he let out shook you to your core. “Holy shit,” you cursed as your hands flew to his head.

Bucky just smiled as your fingers tightened in his hair and accidentally pulled as he did it again. “You taste like heaven,” he said into your pussy as he sucked one of your folds into his mouth. Using his fingers, he spread your pussy open so he could get a good look, letting out a groan. “So pretty… So soft.”

“Jamie… Please… feels so good,” you breathed out as you instinctively tried to push his head closer again. You needed more. He couldn’t just tease you like that.

He really didn’t need anymore encouragement, and he wasn’t going to make you beg for something he’d been daydreaming about since he’d seen you again, when he’d broken out of Hydra’s control. When he’d seen you again, and even after he’d found out that you were his best friend’s girlfriend.

You had no hope of hanging on the second his tongue found your clit. For a moment, you felt like you’d blacked out as your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you. “JAMIE!” You shouted as black dots appeared in your vision. Chest heaving, you tried to catch your breath as you laid back on the rug.

“How you doing, baby?” Bucky asked huskily as he kissed your hip, rubbing your thighs soothingly. “You still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m with you,” you breathed out as you reached for his face, pulling him close to kiss you. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” he said as he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m with you.” He smoothed down your hair, pecking your lips. “You wanna keep going? It’s up to you,” he said, voice low and soothing. “This is all about you, malen’kaya.”

Running your fingers through his hair, you kissed him fiercely. “I wanna keep going. I want you. I need you.” You didn’t hesitate as you pulled his shirt off of him, drinking in the sight of his broad chest. “Beautiful,” you said as you ran your hands over his hot skin. Your fingertips traced over the scars on his left shoulder, and you could feel the shaky breath he took. “You are, James. You’re so fucking handsome…”

The blush that dusted across his cheeks complimented that bashful smile he wore. “Now you’re just flattering me, sweetheart,” he said, kissing you as he worked off his pants with one hand.

“Commando? Really?” You drawled as you glanced down between you. However, you were mostly just trying to not let yourself panic a little at his sheer size.

Steve had been long, yes, but Bucky was thick.

What was it Peter liked to say? Thick with two c’s?

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asked quietly, pulling you out of your head. “We don’t have to.” His fingers blazed a trail along your hip, dipping into the apex of your thighs. As he waited for your answer, he slipped two fingers into your wet t, heat, slowly pumping them in and out and scissoring them to open you up, preparing you for his length. “You gotta talk to me, pretty baby…”

“Yes, I wanna do this,” you insisted, mouth falling open as he found that soft, spongy spot inside of you. “Fuck… Jamie, please… Don’t wanna wait any longer.”

Thankfully, he relented and withdrew his fingers, leaving you with an empty feeling. He lined himself up as he gave his hard cock a few strokes.

The air left your lungs as he slowly pressed against your entrance, before he finally pushed in.

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking tight, angel,” he whispered, the strands of his hair tickling your face as his head hung low. “Is it romantic of me to say that I might cum just from this?”

Laughter bubbled up in your chest as you nodded, raising your legs to wrap around his waist. “The most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” you teased. “I wouldn’t judge you if you did. I know how good my pussy is.”

Bucky had tears in his eyes from how hard he was laughing, nuzzling his nose against yours. All of the anxiety you had noticed before had dissipated, leaving behind the man you knew and loved.

The fire crackled beside you, and you reached up to caress his face. “You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you said. You’d told him before, but you felt the need to remind him.

“And you’re mine,” he answered as he pushed in further, moaning lowly. He was really struggling with the whole not cumming too early thing apparently. “I haven’t had sex with anyone in over seventy years, let alone a dame as stunning as you,” he said, stuttering over his words. “Fuck… Really not trying to embarrass myself, come on, Barnes.”

He hadn’t even noticed that you were losing yourself to the pleasure he was giving you, the delicious ache the stretch of his cock brought.

“Jamie, please.”

It must’ve been the whine in your voice or something, but his eyes locked in on yours. “Fuck. I gotcha, baby girl.” Focusing hard enough to cause a vein in his forehead to pop, he bottomed out inside of you, taking a moment to compose himself before he started to move. “My sweet malen’kaya,” he said against your lips. His fingers threaded into your hair as he leaned on his elbows for support. The roll of his hips was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, head falling back to expose the smooth, unmarked column of your throat.

Well, it wouldn’t be unmarked for long.

You squealed as his lips found your neck, sucking and biting. It might’ve been a little juvenile, but the thought of him being so desperate to mark you up, to show the world that you were his, got you even more hot and bothered than before.

“Feel good, baby? You like that?” He asked in a growl as he jerkily moved one of his hands down your body to rub your clit, awkwardly having to take a moment to regain his balance on one elbow. “You feel like heaven. My own little corner of paradise…”

The rainstorm raged around you, but you didn’t notice or feel the thunder that shook the earth. The only thing you could focus on was Bucky.

You would’ve liked to think that you would’ve been a lot more eloquent, perhaps sexier and kinkier, if and when you two finally slept together, but every thought had left your brain. It was like he’d fucked you stupid.

It didn’t take long before you felt the familiar tightening in your belly, your nails digging into his back muscles. “Oh, god. Yes, yes, keep going,” you begged, finally finding your voice. “Yes, holy shit, yes. Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna… Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me? Huh?” He rasped, brow furrowed. “Go on… Cum for me. On one… two… three.”

Your back arched sharply off of the bed, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you to him as he continued thrusting. Your climax came on like a tsunami, and if you weren’t so dazed from the orgasm, you might’ve been stupid enough to been embarrassed by the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your core.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said, biting at your neck as his thrusts became sloppier and harder. “Fuck, fuck, holy shit, malen’kaya.”

“Inside me,” you said, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Please… Need you to fill me up, Jamie. Please.”

At that exact moment, you watched a moment of panic come over him before he suddenly slammed his hips against yours before going incredibly still.

Your heart caught in your throat as you felt him cumming, spilling inside of you and filling you to the brim.

“Darlin,’ you can’t just say shit like that and not expect me to lose it right then and there,” he rasped, feeling like he was walking on air.

The tight grip your legs had around his waist stopped him from pulling out.

Not that he was complaining.

“Mmm… I need to lay down for a minute… let some blood get to my brain,” he said, lying completely on top of you and hiding his face in your neck.

“Mmm…. I think we should just stay like this forever,” you said as you closed your eyes, letting him take his comfort from you. You craved it. Loved it. Your lungs felt heavy as you (somehow) snuggled even closer to him.

“Me, too,” he said as the two of you started to doze off, utterly exhausted. “Me, too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Love Story (Part 3) Ghosts

.... .... The clouds are gathering...

@rurifangirl

Like the summer days and winter nights in the arctic, it was getting hard for you to keep track of time. So when Caesar taps on the closet door to wake you up, you almost ask what day it is wondering if you sleep for 3 days straight, like before.

You still feel a little achy in your bones but otherwise your pain is gone. There is only the lingering fatigue and gnawing hunger. Caesar was prepared with a hearty breakfast of oatmeal fruit and eggs.

“Eat up and get dressed. We have a lot to talk about.” He was not dressed in his flamboyant work clothes so it must not be evening just yet. He had on a simple grey sweatshirt and jeans. Still, you pause and look because it was so rare to see the Gattuso heir dressed so casually. He tosses you some clothes and you catch them.

They were nothing like the sexy cheongsams that you were used to wearing, just a simple woven sweater and puffy slacks. Comfortable, like his clothing was. In fact, the sleeves were a bit too long. You open the door of the closet and yawn, rubbing your sleeve against your eye. The men had bathed already. Caesar was sitting in a chair slightly too short for him. Chu Zihang was leaning on the wall next to him, in a button down shirt and dark pants, arms crossed, his long sword slung behind his back. He looked at you pointedly, but didn’t say anything.

“Where’s Mingfei?” You ask, looking left and right for him.

“Lu Mingfei is on a special assignment. Turns out he escaped from Genji Heavy Industries by being mistaken for evacuees. And he just happened to have the young Uesugi Clan chief with him.” Caesar sat back in the chair making it creak. Despite the sweatshirt, there was no hiding the musculature there.

“Oh… Is that bad?”

“It’s good and bad.” Caesar said. “There’s a lot I can say about her. To start, it looks like she’s been extremely isolated her entire life. According to Lu Mingfei, her living quarters in Genji was a replica of an old Japanese house. It doesn’t seem like she was ever let outside of it. While we were watching her, she was just sitting and listening to birds. So it's reasonable to believe that the area was nearly soundproof.”

You’re still hungry so you make your way over to a minifridge they had delivered and grab a small tub of yogurt.  “That’s awful.”

Caesar shrugged. “It’s all she knows. The theory is her mind is so unstable she couldn’t handle a drastic change in environment without losing control. But… in this case. Mingfei said that she insisted he stay in the room with her for comfort. Because she seems to have an odd trust in him, his presence puts her mind at ease. Taking him away would be dangerous, so we thought it best he stay with her for now.”

“Mmm… I guess that’s okay if she’s okay with it. After all, it’s how I’ve been living all this time.” You say.

Caesar eyes you silently for a moment.

You continue. “I just … wonder if Lu Mingfei will be okay with it. He’s kind of a perv.” 

“You picked up on that too huh?” Caesar grinned bitterly.

“Right. He was always anxious about my so-called purity, he must have been having impure thoughts.” You take a bite of yogurt thinking to yourself. Mingfei is the brother of Z after all.

“He might have those thoughts but he’s terrified of her.” Chu Zihang muttered. “And with good reason. You never said anything about it so I assume you didn’t know how we all escaped the Trieste disaster. You said you were rescued by dolphins, but if it weren't for Uesugi you wouldn’t have survived long enough for rescue.”

You pause, spoon hanging from your mouth. “I thought you blew up the monsters with Royal Fire?”

“I tried, but Royal Fire is limited in water.” He fixed you with his cold gaze. “It was really Erii Uesugi who destroyed the remaining enemies by producing a massive iceberg out of thin air and ramming it into the beasts. They were all eliminated  in one blow. I thought I’d never see anyone with a Yanling that powerful… but…” Chu Zihang trailed off.

“So she saved us?” You ask.

“We don’t think it was intentional to save us. We just happened to be saved.” Caesar replied.

“That Yanling  is called 'Judgment' and is so powerful that it makes her look like a god standing in the clouds judging humans, hence the name. But the actual effect is to eliminate all life in its field. It’s a rare 'command' type of spirit of speech." Chu Zihang continued. He then glanced at Caesar.

You start to get a strangely uneasy feeling. Like there was something they wanted to say but were nervous about saying it. Your eyes shift from Chu Zihang to Caesar. “So… what’s the plan? Are we holding her hostage or...”

Caesar chuckled in disbelief at the notion. “We can’t hold someone like that hostage. Chisei Gen we can capture, but her? Her power surpasses his.” He sighs.

Chu Zihang lets out a breath. “Chisei is supposed to be the strongest a White King Hybrid can get. He surpasses the blood-threshold and still remains sane. The only explanation for her being stronger than him is that the Uesugi family head is an anomaly. She is the strongest Ghost. She surpasses Chisei but her bloodline is not stable." Chu Zihang said slowly.

“So she’s like me.” You raise your eyes to him.

Chu Zihang’s eyes shift from yours “You were not as unstable as she is. That said, your use of Blood Rage has not helped matters. Without specialized equipment, I can’t tell how unstable you are.”

Your heart beats a little faster and your eyes widen. “Are you scared of me?”

“MC… relax!” Caesar says sharply. “Both Chu Zihang and I have already talked it through. It was fine keeping you here, so it should be fine to keep Erii in the short term. Especially keeping Erii out of the hands of Hydra while we wait to get in contact with the Academy.”

“Then… … if she does endanger Mingfei, I will fight her?” You ask quietly.

“You’re the only one who could stand a chance.” Chu Zihang said.

“But let’s not jump to such dark conclusions yet.” Caesar gives Chu Zihang a steady warning look and you wonder if Chu Zihang told Caesar that he was authorized to kill you if needed. Caesar said they had talked it over, but you’re getting the feeling that the talk was more of an argument. Chu Zihang was going along with it, but they were not of the same mind.

“It’s hard not to think that though.” You say. I’ve been questioning for a long time why I was awakened and sent here  with you after being asleep for 20 years. I’ve always been raised as a weapon, but… I’ve never been needed in my full capacity.” You turn your dark eyes up to him. “What better reason to wake me up, than to serve as someone who could potentially defeat Erii Uesugi?”

“No…” Caesar’s voice was firm. “That won’t happen.”

You grip the yogurt cup tightly in your hands. “I think you should plan for it. If she’s really as strong and unstable as you say, to go against her I will need to do more than create an 8.0 earthquake. It will be like Godzilla vs. Godzilla. No matter who wins, all of Tokyo gets destroyed!”

 "How can you compare yourself to Godzilla?” Caesar turned to you, putting on a winning smile. “I’ve never seen you that way, MC. When I look at you, all I see is a beautiful girl! Same with the Uesugi Clan Chief. I wouldn’t pit two beautiful girls against each other.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it calmly.  

Chu Zihang looked stone-faced.

You let go of your tight grip on the yogurt cup but it was completely crushed. You toss it away. Of course he wouldn’t pit you against each other. But the world was cruel and evil and might not give him a choice.

“By the way, there was something you wanted to tell me in the trunk of the car… what was it?” Caesar asked, exhaling smoke.

“Oh… right.” You take a breath. “When I was using my abilities to cause the quake, I was under Genji Heavy Industries, at the lowest point. And when I put my mind into the ground, something big was there. It was distant… but the fact I would sense it over that distance meant… it’s very big.”

Caesar’s lips closed over the cigarette. “Dragon?”

“From what I heard?” You say seriously. “More than one.”

------

The Kabuki theater you are invited to is over 100 years old and is considered the throne of Kabuki theaters. It has been burned down and rebuilt several times, and today, the building has a distinct Momoyama-era style, with a purple cloth hanging in front of the door.

 Numerous national treasures of Kabuki actors have appeared here, and it is considered a great honor for newcomers to debut in this theater. This night a newcomer was on stage and, although the attendance was not expected to be high for newcomers, the tickets for tonight’s show were sold out early and a banner saying "Thank you" was hung in front of the ticket window. Those who came to buy tickets were young women, dressed in fashionable and hot clothes, not at all like the traditional older audience of Kabuki. This bright young throng crowded in front of the ticket window. The theater manager, who hadn't seen such an unprecedented turnout in more than a decade, was thrilled to the point that he thanked God that this ancient art had not been cut short and had managed to attract such a large young audience. The staff who knew what was going on said with a bitter smile that the manager misunderstood. They did not come for the traditional art, they just wanted to see the man who was amazing.

The newcomer on stage was named Ruri Kazama, and the play was "A New Telling of an Ancient Tale.”

The ticket you received was for a special royal box seat, separate from the seats of Chu Zihang and Caesar. Lu Mingfei couldn’t attend, obviously, so they graciously allowed Whale to come take his spot. 

For you, this great and illustrious occasion was part of the MC Romance contest and you had star-heart tickets to give away to a suitor who pleased you best. But because tickets were sold out for the show, the only thing they could do was send you gifts and give you a complete makeover. When you entered the Takamagahara spa and beauty salon, the entire boutique staff of the Takamagahara was waiting for you, lined up in two neat rows on the left and right sides of the door. They all bowed simultaneously with a loud “Irasshaimase!” 

The day outside was warm and bright and sunny. Perfect for a day out on the town, but the worst weather imaginable if you wanted to avoid the searching eyes of Kaguya. You would get a complete makeover that would hide your identity.

It started with full body skin treatments, shaving and hair removal, even massage. After that, you were whisked away in a fluffy robe for a manicure and pedicure where your nails were buffed and shined. Then your hair and scalp were treated to make it soft and aromatic. At this time, when you were sitting in the chair, your hair being pulled through a hot press, a Japanese woman in a pinstripe suit with long legs and sharp eyes walked into the room. You’d never seen her before but she seemed familiar with you.

She looked you up and down with a critical glare as all the workers stopped and let her inspect. “Well, things are coming along pretty well for our diamond in the rough. But my boss needs you to look like a queen and so long as you have that wide-eyed stare, you won’t fit the part.”

“Your boss?”

The long legged woman handed you an oblong carved sandalwood box that was tied with a red ribbon.

You pull the ribbon and remove the top. In the box was the deadpool's claw, buffed to a mirror like sheen. The raw knuckle bone was now inserted into a wooden hilt painted in vermillion and engraved with gold. It looked like a weapon one might find in a hidden tomb surrounded by other precious artifacts. A legendary weapon. The note said, “From Z.”

When you look at this woman again, she puts her finger to her lips. “There’s something I need you to understand. As the queen, the world only exists by your express permission. So from now on, I need you to simply ignore everyone around you. If you act like an ignorant girl, people will question you. Only pay attention or acknowledge anyone if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Knowing that this woman was acquainted with Z raised goosebumps on your skin. So rather than say yes ma’am, you turn away and stare into the mirror.

Your immediate obedience seemed to please the woman who said, “Good girl.” Before leaving.

You sit still while they paint your face with pale powder. Then they pile your hair up on your head. One of the women shows you an intricate golden comb the shape of a flying phoenix. A card came with it. “From Diamond,” it said. You nod mutely and they use it to secure your hair in front. The comb was from Diamond. Another shows you a bottle of floral scented perfume “from Armani”. You nod again.

At the end of the night, two men carried a large mirror to you and you caught a glimpse of yourself. The person reflected doesn’t look like you. You don’t see an orphan from Siberia but a delicate young woman. She smiled from the mirror. Her eyes were bright and sparkling in shy surprise and delight. Her eyebrows were dark and slender. Her ebony hair bloomed with flowers, gold and jade.  Her clothes are fine linen and silk brocade, a Chinese Hanfu reminiscent of the Tang Dynasty that reached the floor and pooled underneath her in red and white. Her shoulders are draped with translucent gold colored silk shawls. 

She didn’t look like you. But she was you.

Even though Caesar said you were beautiful over and over, this was the first time you ever felt that way about yourself. You find yourself swaying in the mirror, observing the way the silk shawls sparkled on your arm, a little giggle makes its way out. You feel a strange sense of thrilling excitement. Joy even.

You’d always thought of Renata as much prettier than you. Renata’s pale hair and her blue eyes were like the sun and the sea. But your dark eyes and your dark hair reminded you only of ravens. You cared for yourself like a potted plant, so you never thought of yourself as something to be admired, something dainty. You were a weapon. That was all you were good for. But now you admire the tendons of your neck, the curve of your collar bones, the taper of your wrists.

The sun sank in crimson and gold over the city of Tokyo. The light of the sky went out and the city lit up like a sea of stars. A sleek black limousine rolled up in front of the Takamagahara as it opened for the night, but you would not be there for the performers. Instead, the performers were lined up to see you out. The suitors in white suits while the rest of them wore their finest blacks.

They tilted in a stiff bow when you appeared. Per the instructions you received through the Japanese woman, you keep your eyes forward. In doing so, you feel a smile come to your face as you walk between them. Your heart swells and you straighten your back and lift your chin. 

You step out into the humid night. Heads turn, but you’re accompanied by your suitors who walked you to your limousine on the left and right of you. Even if someone were going to try to get a picture of you, the view is blocked. 

They only get a glimpse of royalty.

In the box right next to the stage, you sit in a velvet chair. There was one seat next to you but it was empty. You can look down directly onto the stage and the lower audience.

The curtain was low and the stage was dark, and the guests whispered quietly. They are all regulars at nightclubs, usually laughing and exchanging drinks, but tonight no one is making any noise. The audience is dressed in fine kimonos or foot-length evening dresses, ladylike and reserved. Although he is a male escort, Ruri Kazama's performance has been praised by several kabuki masters, who didn’t mind saying in the newspapers that they have gone out of their way to visit rowdy nightclubs to listen to this kabuki lover's performance. This is not a game, but a proper Kabuki performance, a masterpiece.

 Caesar and Chu Zihang were sitting in a box on the second floor, so you couldn’t see them but they could see you clearly from across the theater.

 "Ah… I guess this is my seat.” A familiar voice says. Chance walked down to the seat next to you. At your wide eyed surprise he said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

You were expecting Z to show up. But of course you couldn’t say that. “I thought none of you could get tickets.”

“I have an inside contact.” He winked and you notice that he has a pin on the lapel of his tux.  It was the Chinese character "ghost". Your jaw drops and you stare up at him in concern. On the envelope containing your invitation, there was a small seal in the corner, consisting of a painted dragon and that same character. Caesar told you that meant that this performance was hosted by Ruri Kazama and that Ruri was a Ghost and belonged to the Devil Clan, the enemies of Hydra. Chance raises one finger to his lips. “I see you understand.”

“You’re the inside contact. You’re the one who told Ruri about me. About… all of us?”

He nodded once, winking.

You lean forward, smiling nervously. “Then you’re… like me? You’re with the Devil Clan?”

Chance smiled warmly at your bright enthusiasm, but sat back in his chair. He was still wearing his bright gold chains and hands were freshly painted with a new pattern in Henna. “Have you ever seen a performance like this before?”

You shake your head. He was clearly changing the subject to avoid talking about his unstable bloodline. The knowledge that he was a Ghost like you cast Chance in a new light. You had so many questions. You had more in common with him than you did with Chisei Gen.

 "Just look at the translation screen above the stage. The lyrics will appear there for you to read so you understand the show.”

Z said that this Kabuki performance would answer many of the questions you’d had since waking up at Cassell and your pulse quickened. Finally, you would start to get a grasp on your new reality.

 The lights suddenly went dark, and someone struck a snare drum. The drums sounded hoarse and low, like a ghost whispering in a distant ancient time. The curtain was pulled back and the plain white woman stood quietly in the center of the stage, draped with long, dark hair.

But it wasn’t a woman. It was Ruri Kazama.

"All happiness in this world is a fleeting blossom in the shadow of the moon. 

Only loneliness and pain are always with us in the depths of Hell.”  

He sang and slowly raised his head, his face as pale as paper, only the corners of his eyes were a harsh blood red.

His costume looks like a stark ghost in the depths of the underworld, but his body is graceful and feminine, just like a stunningly beautiful woman wrapped in a veil, making people's hearts flutter.

But the words he sang. In the first lyric, Ruri Kazama presented a stinging rebuttal to your response to him the day before, when you proudly told him you were not perishing. Chance turned to look at you. His hand moved over your hand and he gave it a gentle squeeze but that was scarce comfort. You were suddenly struck with a sense of doom, as though the voice of Ruri Kazama were a death knell.

#dragon raja

[catfe-overlord]

“Feral”

Part 3

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

::in which the Bakusquad comes in clutch, and Kirishima and Bakugou have a cutesy moment together::

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

“Kiri, you with us?”

That voice was Ashido. Yeah, that was definitely her giggle that followed. Funny, because he was just dreaming about her.

“You were, were you?” she snorted. Someone else snickered.

Yeah, he’d dreamt they were at the amusement park. Kaminari got sick on a roller coaster. Ashido got cotton candy stuck in her hair. He’d nearly pissed himself in the haunted house.

Laughter erupted, jarring him out of the last remnants of sleep that were clouding his mind. He blinked up at his three friends, who were all grinning down at him, their giggles dying down to welcome him back to the world of the living.

“Do you always talk in your sleep, dude?” Sero asked, holding his stomach after laughing too hard.

“Uh, I wouldn’t know,” he retorted. “I’m sleeping.”

“Oh my gosh, that was hilarious. My face hurts from smiling so much,” Kaminari stated, wiping a tear from his eye. He forced himself to turn serious after a few moments of collecting himself. “Hey, Kirishima, I’m really sorry about electrocuting you yesterday. I panicked, and I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. It’s just, Bakugou is terrifying on a good day! When he turned on me and something was definitely wrong, like, he had claws and slit eyes and he looked like he wanted to cut me to shreds, I couldn’t stop myself! It happened so fast, I—”

“It’s okay, Kaminari,” Kirishima stopped him there. “I totally get it. Mistakes happen. It was probably a good thing you stopped Bakugou when you did. He could’ve killed someone.”

Ashido leaned in to give Kirishima a big hug. He was thankful for the warm embrace. Other than the new gauze Recovery Girl must have applied after he passed out, he’d slept shirtless and his blanket had fallen down to his waist at some point in the night. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms.

“How are you feeling?” Ashido asked after pulling away.

“Better. Groggy, definitely, but it’ll pass once I’m up and moving. Thanks.”

She pinched his cheek before standing up straight and snapping her fingers at Kaminari. “Fetch the gifts, peasant.”

He stuck out his tongue in her direction before turning toward a few plastic bags on a table across the room. He brought them over to Kirishima’s bed and dumped the contents at his feet. “Ta-da!”

It was everything Kirishima had purchased yesterday at the mall. His crocs and hair dyes and gel and the red sweatshirt. He was so relieved to see them. He’d spent nearly ten-thousand yen on everything, and after Bakugou had been hit he’d just dropped everything and didn’t think twice about it.

“Whoa! I can’t believe you guys found all my stuff,” he beamed, the smile evident on his face. “Bakugou’s too?”

“You bet!” Ashido winked. “We left his two bags outside his dorm, since the door was locked. I doubt anyone would have the balls to touch something of Bakugou’s anyway, so I don’t think we have to worry about it going missing before he gets back.”

“Speaking of Bakugou,” Sero said warily, “how’s he doing? I mean, I know you just woke up, but you were with him last night, right?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m honestly not sure how to answer that one. He was definitely still struggling with the quirk when I left him last night, but he’s a fighter.”

“What exactly did the quirk do you him?” Kaminari asked. “He looked terrible. And he had murder in his eyes, like, more intense than usual.”

Kirishima chuckled at that, but he didn’t really find it funny. “Aizawa kind of explained it to me. It’s like he’s stuck in some—how’d he say it?—oh, ‘animalistic rage’ is what he said. And it changed some of his appearance, but I’m sure you guys saw that. I’m actually going to visit him in a little while.”

“You are?” Ashido asked excitedly. “Where is he? Is he still here, at UA?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s in a safe room. But I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to see him right now. He could hurt you guys. The only reason I can go is because of my quirk.”

Ashido pouted. “I know you’re right, but it still sucks. Just keep us updated on Blasty, okay?”

Kirishima offered her a smile. “I will. And I’ll tell him you guys said hi.”

Sero stood then and stretched, cracking some of his joints. “So, Recovery Girl said you should be good to go once you were up. Wanna grab some breakfast?”

Kirishima could feel his mouth water at the thought. “An omelet sounds delicious right now.”

After Kirishima cleaned himself up, removed the last of the bandaging from his torso, and threw on his new red sweatshirt and his fresh crocs, the proclaimed “Bakusquad” made their way to the cafeteria. It was a Saturday, and other students were filing in and out at their leisure. Kirishima caught sight of Midoriya and his own group of close-knit friends, and they waved to one another.

Kirishima inhaled his food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite. His friends chattered amongst themselves, and he half listened to their conversations, but he didn’t say a word other than a grunt of affirmation here and there until his plate was clean.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he was just leaving to head back to the dorms. It was Aizawa.

Heard Recovery Girl gave you the OK. Visit Bakugou whenever you want. Text me when you get here and I’ll let you in.

Kirishima smiled down at his phone. “Guys!” he said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. “I’ll catch you later. Aizawa just texted me with the go-ahead to see Bakugou.”

Ashido slumped, but she waved him off. “Alright, but tell him we wanna visit soon too!”

“You got it,” he said, spinning on his heels and heading over to the building he remembered Aizawa leading him to last night.

Once he’d been buzzed in by Aizawa and lead down the elevator to the sub surface level that held his best friend, Kirishima suddenly found his stomach fluttering with nerves. He wasn’t sure which Bakugou was waiting for him: the angry, feral Bakugou he’d fought on the street yesterday or his angry, less-feral-more-bitter friend that he cared so much for.

Or maybe it was the Bakugou he’d said goodnight to. The quiet, careful Bakugou who didn’t dare hurt his friend. Who fought the quirk with every last ounce of strength he had to hold himself back.

When Kirishima peered through the one way mirror, it wasn’t a sight he’d expected. It was just Bakugou, still obviously under the effects of the quirk judging by the black, clawed hands and cat-like eyes, and he was just laying on his side on the shredded mattress, head propped up by his elbow. He was finishing up a bowl of rice and chicken, and he had a manga in front of him that he slowly flipped through.

“He’s been like this for the past hour,” Aizawa informed him. “He goes between ballistic and himself pretty often. I’ve had a few conversations with him this morning, but no one can get near him yet without him attacking. If you want to go in, I’ll allow it, but I want you to stay away from physical contact.”

Kirishima nodded. “I mean, Bakugou isn’t a very touchy-feely kind of guy on a good day.”

Aizawa swiped his key card through a small device attached to Bakugou’s door. The little red light turned green. “Well, he’s been asking when you’d come by.”

Kirishima was genuinely surprised by that. “Really? Why me?”

Aizawa sighed. “Because you’re his best friend.”

Kirishima tried to suppress his smile, but he knew he was failing miserably. Aizawa waited patiently while Kirishima pulled off his new sweatshirt and tossed it onto a chair before he finally opened the door for his student. He’d raised an eyebrow, surely wondering why the redhead decided to go shirtless, but he didn’t ask questions.

As soon as Kirishima stepped through the door, Bakugou looked up at him and stared for a long moment. His face slowly twisted into a snarl. Kirishima suddenly felt pretty self conscious and a hint of fear at what his friend might do next, but before he could say anything, Bakugou was yelling.

“SHITTY HAIR! WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR SHIRT?!”

Kirishima stopped breathing. His heart might have skipped a beat. His lips twitched into a smile, so grateful to have his Bakugou back to normal, at least for now. “I was wearing my new sweatshirt, and I didn’t want you to ruin it.”

“Well, fuck. Go put it back on, dipshit.”

“But what if you get all angry again and tear it up? I like it.”

“I’m not gonna do that, fucker. And if I did, I’d just buy you a new damn sweatshirt.”

Kirishima smirked. “What, you’re not enjoying the gun show?”

He flexed, and the look on Bakugou’s face was priceless. His cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and he turned away to glare at the wall. It took Kirishima a moment to realize he was blushing.

He put his arms down and turned back toward the door, but the smile was still evident on his face. “Alright, I’ll put it back on. But don’t ruin it, Bakugou. I swear, I’ll be really pissed off.”

Aizawa was already standing at the door holding the red sweatshirt. Kirishima thanked him and pulled it back on before making his way over to the wall beside the head of Bakugou’s bed. He slid down to the floor into a criss-cross position and stretched his spine.

“Kirishima,” Bakugou said then, a seriousness in his voice Kirishima wasn’t used to. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday. For hurting you… and ruining your favorite shirt… and probably losing all of the shit we bought.”

Kirishima blinked. “What?”

Bakugou glared at him. “I’m not gonna say it again, Shitty Hair, so accept it.”

“Oh! No, dude, listen. You don’t have to apologize for anything. The Bakusquad found all of our stuff. See?” He used a hand to refer to his sweatshirt and crocs. “I bought these yesterday when you were looking at those headphones. Ashido said they left your stuff at the dorms. And don’t worry about the shirt! It was getting pretty old anyway. I have lots of favorite shirts.”

“No, that one was the favorite. And I fucking ruined it.”

Kirishima tilted his head. “You were under a quirk, Bakugou. Really, it’s okay. I was way more worried about you than some stupid shirt.”

Bakugou looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he said so quietly, “You called me Katsuki yesterday.”

Kirishima looked up at the blond, surprised. “Uh, yeah. I did. Sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I just… I thought maybe it would help? Like, help you to remember yourself, and overcome the quirk.”

Bakugou wet his lips. “Yeah. It did. Help, I mean. It did help me. So, uh, thanks.”

They were both quiet for a few long moments. Kirishima thought about the way his name sounded in Bakugou’s voice yesterday. He wasn’t going to point out that Bakugou had returned the favor in calling him Eijirou, thinking maybe he didn’t remember it. Kirishima didn’t want to make things awkward. Er, more awkward.

“You can keep doing it. If you want.”

Kirishima stared up at Bakugou, trying to read his calm expression, but the blond wouldn’t look at him. “Huh?”

He sighed through his nose. “You can keep calling me by my given name. I wouldn’t mind it. Fuck.”

Kirishima went light headed for a second. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—!

He gave Bakugou a bright smile and a thumbs up. “Sure, Katsuki! And feel free to use mine too!”

Bakugou sank to the floor a few feet from Kirishima, leaning back against the cot. He had his arms wrapped around himself protectively. His face was still flushed pink.

“If you don’t want to waste your day here, it’s fine,” Bakugou spoke. “It’s boring as fuck, I get that. It’s Saturday, and I’m sure there are a lot of better ways you could be spending it.”

Kirishima laughed. “No way, dude. I’d rather spend time with my best bro, even if we’re stuck here. You’re not a chore, Katsuki.”

He seemed to shrink in on himself. “Well, you’d better fucking bring some cards or something next time. I’m not a conversationalist like you and the other extras.”

Kirishima made a mental note of that. “Cards. Gotcha. Anything else you’d like?”

Bakugou’s eyes tightened. “Mm. There’s a book I was reading that I left on my desk. You still have the other key to my dorm, eh?”

“Yep! So, cards and book. Got it. Just text me if you need anything else. You have your phone, right?”

He grunted in confirmation. “Aizawa has it. I don’t want it because I’ll probably just fucking break it. I’ll have him text you.”

Kirishima nodded. He’d stretched out his legs so their feet were almost touching. Aizawa was pretty persistent on avoiding physical contact, but Kirishima couldn’t help wondering if a simple touch really could throw his friend into a frenzy. He didn’t want to ruin the moment though, because he really did enjoy being with Bakugou.

It was at that moment Kirishima noticed the jolt that seemed to pass through the blond. His eyes were wide, and his hands were shaking as he stood in a rush.

“You should go,” Bakugou said quickly, unable to look him in the eyes.

Kirishima quickly scrambled to his feet as well, aware that Bakugou stood between him and the exit. “Are you alright?”

“Get out, Eijirou.”

Kirishima flew past Bakugou on his way to the door, but he stopped to look back at the blond. “I’ll be back later.”

Bakugou clutched his head—the source of his pain—but he managed a nod.

And with that, Kirishima left.

+++++++++++++

Oh boy oh boy I love these kids. They take up too much of my brain capacity. Anywho! I have two more chapters planned and I think that’ll be it. I have many a fic planned, and as much as I love this lil guy (which was honestly supposed to be a oneshot), I’m just about ready to move on. Also, I love prompt suggestions !!!???? So like ???? Please send them my way ???????!!!

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and stick around for the last two chapters (which will hopefully be up by the end of the week). Have a lovely night, friends

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

Read part 6 here

8/19/2020

#bakugou is hit by a quirk #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #kirishima angst #kirishima whump #bakugou whump #bakugou angst #kiribaku #bnha #mha #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku fics #boko no hero academia #my hero academia #whump #angst #kiribaku fluff

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 15: Trickster Treats (Loki X OFC Pairing)

"You know, not that I'm complaining here, but you don't have to bribe me with chocolate chip pumpkin pancakes and pumpkin spice latte, as much as I missed those breakfast foods this time of year," I assured my best friend in the whole fucking multiverse.

"You have no idea how fucking bored I've been since you went MIA, I tried making new friends honest, but you of all people know how hard that is."

"Even in Salem where the weird are welcomed?" I asked.

Zari just nodded while shoveling crispy strips of freshly made bacon onto my already full plate. "I also think you need this, I know you don't extensively need to eat being dead and all but how the hell else do you recharge after kicking terrorist ass?"

"Mischievous magical sex certainly helps," I chirped.

"Is that why he hasn't come down for food like you did?" she asked, jerking her head toward the guest room we stayed in.

"Not as much as usual actually, we were both just tired and needed company over intimacy. Asgardians are fucking addicting, pun intended."

"Let's hope he doesn't wish he knew how to quit you," she teased.

I scoffed and shoveled more food into my mouth. "He aint never had it this good, the best thing about necrophilia is the dead can't say no."

"Jesus, woman, still with the dead jokes after all this time?"

"Always," I replied smoothly.

"So what should we do today while I got you?" she asked excitedly.

"Like you said, I gotta recharge and then I gotta celebrate properly since I missed out so many times, too many really, it's a good thing I got out before I missed it this year or I'd be seriously depressed."

"You're only really alive during this time of the year despite the veil between worlds being so thin and your death powers being strongest then, irony that is. So what was it like being in the Avengers company?"

"Kinda boring when I wasn't actively shagging the only other person on house arrest there, I'm not terribly into new state of the art tech Tony's all about. I mean yeah it looks cool and shit but like I've no idea how to use the majority of it."

"It did take forever for you to get a smartphone when the rest of the first world had been through like 5 at least."

"That was partially because I was under the impression I couldn't afford one or didn't need that much stuff just to contact people."

She rolled her eyes at me and scoffed. "Whatever, Ms. Slide to Text Not Smart Phone."

"Call me what you want but whenever I dropped that phone, the worst that happened was the battery popping out, let's see you drop a smartphone any height without a protective cover and see if it even works after that."

"Get with the times, woman!"

"Don't wanna!" I retorted and crossed my arms in a pretend pout.

"How the hell does Loki put up with you really?"

"I already told you, copious amounts of kinky and experimental sex, keep up."

"What about sex?" a familiar smooth accented voice interrupted.

We both turned to see a groggy looking Loki that shifted into his mortal form Tom seamlessly, a hand combing through his short sandy curls and a lazy smile tugging at his lips upon setting his eyes on me. "Zari wants to know why you put up with me."

"Put up with? Why would it be a chore to be with you?"

"My thoughts exactly. See, Zari, it's not me, it's you," I taunted.

"Shut up and eat your damn pancakes," she demanded.

"So orange is for the pumpkins everyone picks and carves into what you then call Jacko Lanterns, black is for the night of the holiday and the darkness and death that comes after the season more or less, white is for the spirits free to roam about, what about purple, I know I've seen some of that mixed in as well as green," Loki commented while we raided some more tourist stores full of holiday goodies.

"Purple seems to come out more in kid friendly type decor or even dare I say glitsy stuff I'd rather not. Green's also a bit kiddish but it also goes with the monsters and other characters people tend to dress as for the occasion," I explained, sifting through the sweatshirts that all had Salem something or other on it.

"And what's the most common costumes?"

"Well I mean every year there's always a select group of costumes that's all the rage of that year, like maybe Tony did something wicked awesome the world knows about so everyone's gotta be Iron Man that year, but then there's also something for the girls that's excessively popular but at a certain age or older it's gotta be either slutty or some other form of sexy because that's society in a nutshell. Dudes can be anything but chicks are just breathing sex dolls."

"That's disgusting, why didn't you people let me destroy New York when I had the chance?"

"What do you mean 'you people'?" I asked suspiciously. "You know how I feel about that city."

Loki picked up a rather cute looking scarf that of course was green and wrapped it around his neck then turned to me. "What do you think?"

"Lay off the green or go back to your real form, you can't have it both ways, even I know that and I never go undercover."

He scowled at my logic as he had made a habit of by now but put it back all the same and chose an orange one with black skulls instead. "As a child then, to your knowledge and not society's, what were the most popular costumes of choice?"

"I think even before I came into existence, the classic ones were: witch, ghost, devil, clown, cat, skeleton...those ones at least. They were the easiest to make as well if you didn't have the money or time to buy one and the economy has always been shit. Oh and there was the Grim Reaper of course, how could I forget that?"

"That was your first costume, wasn't it?"

"Nah." I smiled. "I don't remember much before I died, no faces or names or anyone really but I do know I was a witch...glad I can remember that much of my childhood. Ghost was the absolute easiest fucking costume to make but witch was the bees knees for me."

"What made a ghost costume?"

"Oh just find any old white or offwhite bedsheet that didn't drag too much on the ground or you'd probably trip over it half the time you're trick or treating, cut two holes for your eyes, boom done, you're a ghost, I sheet you not."

"Zari warned me you were fond of bad jokes and puns, I found them amusing but now I'm sort of wary."

It was my turn to scowl at this, he seemed to enjoy my wordplay till she had to ruin it. "She and I are gonna have words later about that, ruining my fun when I just got here." I snagged a comfy looking black and orange hoodie with a cute witch pun on it to purchase and snagged Loki's scarf as well to pay myself despite his protests. "Shush, Zari gave us spending cash since we want to stay under the radar and cards will fuck us over that way."

"I know but I wanted to pay for it myself," he insisted.

"Listen, this city is all about my favorite holiday and said holiday only has one law, trick or treat and since you are the master of tricks here, if you want anything in this city, it'll be my treat."

He opened his mouth to argue a few times before deciding he wasn't going to win what I thought was a smooth as fuck reply that should also be bulletproof too. "Fine. Well played."

"Jolly good, and thanks, been known to happen. How long do you think we'll have before we're found by either party?"

"Stark will hopefully find us first, I'd rather not be locked up again, I'm sure you agree there. As to how long...a few days give or take with his resources. Worried, love?"

"Something occurred to me just now. While this is my turf and I'm nigh unstoppable here, I don't want the other agents coming here and sullying my slice of heaven or Valhalla in your case and that's what they'll do, they're a plague, spreading and destroying everything they come in contact with."

"I can understand that, that's what I felt with Asgard before it went down in flames. What would you have us do then?"

"I don't want them here, but I still need to sort out the traitors, there's gotta be more than the two I saw there at the base. I'm also tired of being targetted, that's the reason I left the country in the first place and literally the second I come back before I can even touch native soil, I'm back to being wanted by the wrong people. This country sucks."

"The Avengers have already tried many times to nip it in the bud as you Midgardians would say. I'm willing to bet there's several more hidden bases off the radar we won't be able to find ourselves unless they want us too."

"What are you saying?"

"We won't be able to rid them of the world unfortunately, they've been around since 1940s at least and don't plan on retiring despite their old age. Although...what did you say about getting rid of certain household arachnids earlier on?"

I blinked and wracked my memory, wondering where he was going with his musings before it dawned on me and a wide wicked grin spread across my face. "If you can't kill em, make em wish they never came in. What do you know, you can teach an old god new tricks."

His smirk from pulling a page out of my own book went back into an unamused though half hearted glare at my last bit. "You're lucky I don't know how to quit you."

And once more I was the one scowling again. "You wouldn't survive the withdrawals, I'm a fever you can't sweat out. Also, it's rude to spy on other people's conversations. That's classified information you don't have clearance for."

"I'm a god, I have clearance for everything, silly woman."

"Eventually that card will expire that you keep pulling," I muttered, tugging him out of the shop and onto another while pulling on my new hoodie.

Outside in the heart of Salem, the cobblestone streets were damn near packed like Mardi Gras  in the South, street vendors everywhere, tourists and people that just bloody love the upcoming holiday getting it while it was there. The park across the street from all the chaos was busy with fair rides and games for the kiddos, fried dough, candy apples and fresh apple cider as fair food. This was my home, my heaven, if I died for good then and there, I'd regret nothing because I'd already be in heaven and there was no telling what kind of afterlife I was in for. The air was crisp and smelled of hay rides and apples and I couldn't remember a time I was more in love than I was then. I pulled Loki out of the crowded street and into a side alley between shops, grabbed him by his cute new scarf and snogged him passionately. Even in human form I couldn't get enough of him, would you blame me? He cupped the side of my face once we pulled away and studied me almost tenderly.

"This will be our place," he murmured. "Not Stark's, not the Avengers, not Hydra's. I've already watched one place I love go down in flames and I've already lost one woman I love fall before that even happened, I won't let either of which happen again, not while I'm still breathing. I swear it on my life. We can't let them near this but we can't run from them either, so we'll take the fight to them or die trying."

"Well, you might die, I'm already there but yes, I concur. First we enjoy our mini vacation, then we raise some hell and all the damned that comes with it. To mischief, to merriment, to manslaughter!"

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki romance #the avengers #hydra #necromancy #necromancer #nell the necromancer #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki x nell #zombies

[starrybethany]

Elias Pettersson - Ed Sheeran & Pink Roses

Word count: 3603

A white gown covering every inch of my skin because he says we should show skin “after the wedding.” A veil, because “a lot of my friends find you attractive and I don’t want to deal with that on my wedding day.” And a rock that weighs my hand down because it shows his power.

The eyes staring back into mine aren’t my own. A year ago I was so happy, but then this relationship was so rushed- so passionate- so dominate.

It took over every part of my life.

He took over every part of my life.

And the worst part is, I let him.

Somehow no one notices me slip out of the dressing room. No one hears my heels click against the marble floor of the fancy ass hotel he demanded we have this wedding at, and no one watched as I slipped into the passenger’s seat of my sister’s car.

“You don’t need to tell me ‘I told you so’,” I state blankly, keeping my gaze forward and on a window of the hotel.

I’m waiting for his mother to stop out, full of rage like she always is, and demand me to get back in the hotel and marry her son so that they can both torture me for the rest of my life.

“I know.”

“I can’t be here, Y/S/N.” I slump down in the old seat, thinking back to the first date we had when she picked me up outside the restaurant. I giggled and gushed about him all the way home and she sat there, driving, and smiling quietly.

“I know.”

My gaze moves to her and, like she can feel it, she looks back over at me. I guess she can see the look in my eyes. She can see the broken, desperate, lost little girl who fell too quickly into love and just as quickly out of love.

“I can figure something out, Y/N. I’ll take you to the airport and we can go from there, okay?”

“Do you have any clothes I can change into?” I mumble, avoiding her eyes by searching her backseat.

I find some jeans and a baggy sweatshirt one of her ex-boyfriends left behind by the time we make it to the airport. I enter the bathroom without a word, wiping off the three layers of makeup I have on before exiting to her getting off the phone.

“I just emailed your ticket to you. Let me know when you land.” She pulls me into a tight hug and I cling onto her dress, crumpling the fabric in my fists and holding on for dear life.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” I murmur, relaxing my eyelids which I absentmindedly clenched.

“I love you, Y/N. Be safe.”

“I love you too.”

I watch longingly as she walks out of the airport and back to her car. This is my last chance- I could hop back in her car, race back to the hotel and change hurriedly just in time to make it to marry the man who I’ve claimed to love for the last year.

I could commit to a marriage like I promised I would five months ago. I could go on our honeymoon to Greece and relax on a beach like he wanted, I could have two kids and stay at home with them like he wanted, I could spend the rest of my life in the suburbs of Toronto like he wanted.

But I find myself walking up to the check-in desk, numbly showing them the ticket on the email my sister sent me. And I find myself boarding the flight to God-knows-where. My eyes focus on the wing of the plane as they make their announcements and I catch the familiar word “Vancouver.”

So Vancouver’s my next destination. He will never suspect Vancouver, hell I would never have expected Vancouver. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’s time for a fresh start in a new location all the way across the country.

Maybe it’s time to focus on myself.

I step off the plane, unsure of what I’m looking for, or more likely, who I’m looking for. What’s in Vancouver that my sister wanted to send me here? “Y/N!”

I turn in the direction of the voice, raising my eyebrows in surprise at the familiar face.

“Hi Holly,” I greet her quietly, pulling her into a hug. I haven’t seen Holly since high school ended and the curling team her and my sister came to a stop.

“You remember Bo, right?” She questions, motioning to the tall man beside her who I’ve met a couple of times at various parties and events.

I nod. “Hi, Bo.”

Holly sits in the backseat with me on the ride back to their house, holding my hand like I might fall apart at any moment. Which I just might. It hasn’t hit me just yet that I ditched my fiancé at the alter and I feel like it will at any moment- not to mention the fact that I don’t know what’s going to come next.

I’m a pull away from falling apart at the seams.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asks after showing me the guest room I’ll be staying in. I shake my head and she leaves without another word.

Her and Bo appear at the doorway for the next couple of days, showering me with food and comments like “I’m here if you want to talk” but mostly leave me alone to lay in bed and think.

I’m grateful for it. I want to gather my thoughts before anything else. I approach things with a plan and logic, and not only leaving the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with but also leaving behind my home has my mind in a craze.

The door opens softly and feet pad against the floor, along with the rolling of wheels. “Your sister was able to swing by your place and grab most of your things.”

My bones scream at me as I turn around slowly, sitting up straight in bed to see Holly setting two suitcases against the wall. She tries her best to mask her surprise at my movement, but I still see it.

“He ruined Ed Sheeran for me.” She sits on the edge of the bed, fearing that if she moves too close, I’ll clamp up like I’ve been doing since I got here. “He said that his songs raised expectations for women, and it wasn’t a good thing. Women should have low expectations for all men so then they would be happy with what they got.”

I wipe the snot from my nose.

“And he ruined pink roses for me. When he saw me admiring them, he said that roses were such an overrated flower. They symbolize romance and love and romance is dead and love isn’t real.”

I rest my head in my palms, sobbing softly. Holly rests a gentle hand on my forearm. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to let me know that she’s there.

“And fuck, he did all of this, Holly, he put me down, he made fun of my interests, he told me that my job wasn’t important, but I still loved him!” I’m yelling by the end of it but I can’t stop. “I thought I loved him so much. I thought I loved him with my entire heart, my entire being, my whole soul, but I was just trying to do that. I was just trying to be good enough to be a part of his world.”

I allow her to pull me into her arms and I cry on her shoulder. She knows that I’ve already realized that I’m enough. She knows that I realized that I’m too good for him, that he’s the problem and I’m not. She knows that she doesn’t need to tell me that.

But she does anyway.

“Do I look too nerdy?” I question, nervously tugging at the sleeves on the dress.

“You never look nerdy,” Holly reassures me, looking up from the vegetables she’s cutting. Bo nods in agreement, sending me a kind smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Bo questions as I step further in the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” I admit, making the couple laugh. “I’m just nervous to meet your teammates and their partners. I mean, they probably don’t think too highly of me considering I’ve been living in your place rent-free for two weeks. And I arrived with just a couple hours of notice.” I shake my head at my own actions. “Can I do something? I need to do something with my hands, do you want me to cut those vegetables?”

“Y/N, you are fine,” Holly giggles. “If it makes you feel better, there are some dishes in the sink that you can wash.”

“Oh, thank god,” I sigh in relief, rushing over to the sink like it’s my life source.

“And don’t feel bad about staying here. They understand, we’ve all been through rough times,” Bo emphasizes. I just smile at him.

His teammates arrive slowly, and I introduce myself kindly to everyone, wanting to present a good impression since I’m also representing Bo and Holly in a way. Then he walks in. Enchanting blue eyes that are pulling me closer, blond hair that begs to have my fingers run through it, plump lips that cheer for me to press my own against them.

It takes me aback. I haven’t felt this way since the first time I saw him.

And, if I look closely enough, he looks like him in a way.

I scurry away with one last look, taking a large sip of my water and ignoring the look that Bo gives me. He walked in on a late-night breakdown last week, so he knows the look I get before it happens.

“Excuse me,” I murmur, rushing down the hall to the bathroom. Everything is too loud, everything is too fast, everything is too overwhelming. I raise one hand to press against my racing heart, staring myself down in the mirror to bring myself back to Earth.

Ground yourself, Y/N, ground yourself.

There’s a knock on the door. “Y/N? Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, biting my lip. My shaky hands open the door and I step out, Bo waiting politely outside the door. “I’m fine.”

He nods, obviously not buying my lie, but guiding me down the hall with a gentle hand on my back. “Oh, have you met Elias and Quinn yet? Guys, this is Y/N.”

And now I’m face-to-face with him. I try my best to just look at him quickly and give a small smile, barely noticing the one on his face.

“How are you?” Quinn asks.

How am I supposed to answer this when I have no air in my lungs? I’m taking too long, now all three of these guys are giving me an expectant look and I seem rude for taking so long to answer-“Fine,” I squeak out, “Um, you?”

“Good.” Quinn gives me an odd look. I don’t look at Elias.

“How are you, Petey?” Bo asks his younger teammate.

“Fine.” I see the shrug of his shoulders.

“I saw on your Instagram that you got up to some grilling last night,” Bo responds.

They all laugh and as Elias begins to answer, I excuse myself from the group and rush to grab another drink.

I hide in my room when Elias leaves so that I don’t have to say goodbye.

“Hi Elias, great game,” Holly compliments when she sees the young player leave the locker room.

He stops in front of us and my eyes stay glued to the picture on the wall next to me, heart thumping so loud that I’m positive they can hear it.

He mumbles something in response and Holly continues, “Y/N really liked your goal.”

She hits my arm and I make a noise, looking up at Elias with wide eyes. His eyes are much bluer than I remember them to be. They hide so many secrets and memories and stories that I could watch them for hours and not be bored.

The corners of his lips turn up in a smile and my gaze snaps back to the photo, biting my bottom lip hard and hoping the blush on my neck doesn’t travel to my cheeks.

I half-heartedly listen to the rest of their conversation, only turning to meet Holly’s eyes when Elias has turned the corner.

“Bo said you had a weird vibe with him,” she teases.

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the wall with a huff. “I don’t have a weird vibe with him.”

She laughs. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

It’s later that night that she peaks her head into the guestroom I’m still staying in. “It’s okay to move on, you know that, right? It’s been a month. And it’s been even longer since you’ve loved him.”

“You realize that since Elias is helping you move into this apartment, you’re going to have to talk to him, right?” Holly teases as she pulls the plates out of the box.

“You can just put those in the dishwasher to be washed right away,” I inform her, ignoring her words.

“What? Why?”

“Do you really think I’m just going to eat off of plates without washing them first? I don’t know who’s touched them,” I scrunch my nose up in disgust at the thought.

“Hello, hello,” someone chants out as the front door to my new apartment is opened. My eyes catch blue eyes first and I quickly divert from them, smiling at the three boys who enter my new apartment. “Sorry Y/N, only Elias and Brock could make it.”

“That’s okay,” I say quietly, “Thank you for the help.”

I hear Elias’ Swedish accent over Brock’s response but pretend to ignore it, busying myself by pushing a picture of my sister and I into a picture frame.

“Are you excited to be moving into your own place after living with these two lovebirds for two months?” Brock jokes, nudging his captain.

I giggle but nod, not trusting my voice just yet in front of Elias.

“Where do you want us to start?” Bo inquires. I direct the boys to their various tasks, avoiding the Swede’s gaze as I tell him his.

I sigh in frustration, the Christmas lights I’m trying to hang on my bedroom wall getting tangled as I hang them up slowly.

“Do you want help with that?” The familiar accent questions from the doorway of the small bedroom.

“No, I’m good,” I respond, not even sending a quick smile over my shoulder. He doesn’t listen. Feet pad closer to my bed until he’s climbing on it beside me, tugging the wire apart from itself gently and stretching his arms to make sure it won’t tangle again.

I try my best to ignore his presence as I work slowly to put the cable against the plain wall but it’s hard to do when his eyes are glued to the side of my face. As we’re turning the corner to move onto the next wall, my gaze catches his.

His cheeks are rosy, probably from all of the work around my apartment that he’s been doing, and there’s a cut on his cheek that I didn’t notice earlier. It looks like it hurt and I feel my heart jump at the thought of him in pain.

“What happened to your face?” I murmur out, my volume barely loud enough to be heard.

“I cut it while shaving.”

I try to keep the soft smile to myself, but I think that he still saw it.

I couldn’t believe it then when he was sliding the engagement ring onto my finger. It not only covered my ring finger, but also overlapped onto part of my pinky and middle finger. I threw a hand over my mouth, gasping about how much I loved it.

But I didn’t love it then and I sure as hell don’t love it now.

A knock on my door has me shoving the ring back into my bedside table, opening the front door.

My heart drops at the sight of the young blond on the other side. I haven’t seen Elias since he helped me move into this apartment a week ago, and I honestly thought I would have a longer amount of time to avoid him and form a plan on how to stay away from him.

But I guess I don’t get that.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Bo said you needed help with your Wi-Fi but he’s too busy with Gus to come over himself,” he explains. “So he sent me instead.”

I nod wordlessly, stepping inside to let him into my apartment. I watch as he takes off his sneakers, setting them side by side by my front door.

I lead him into the living room where the Wi-Fi box is, motioning towards the device.

“Have you tried unplugging it and plugging it back in?” He inquires, moving closer to it and hence, me.

My heart rate picks up at the feeling of Elias towering over me, and something I have enough knowledge to nod.

“We could just try that again?”

“Okay.”

I watch his calloused hand pull the wire out, eyes meeting my own as he explained, “We can wait for it to cool down and then plug it back in.”

I nod dumbly, stepping back like it’ll get me out of this unknown power that Elias has over me.

I feel his eyes studying me as I look around my apartment like it’s the first time I’ve been here. I feel him staring at my hair, my nose, my eyes, my lips.

“Do you not like me?”

His question has my eyes snapping back towards him.

“W-What?” I stutter.

“Do you not like me?” He repeats himself.

“Um, I, I-“”Or are you just scared of me?” He asks.

“Elias-“”Holly and Bo haven’t told us a lot about you, they said it’s your business and when you feel like telling us you will. They told us that you’ve been through a lot so if I make you uncomfortable, I’d just like to know,” he states.

God is he sweet. This shows me how much respect me has for me by not wanting to push information out of me and being aware of my boundaries. I judged him too fast, I know that. But he just made me so anxious and now, now he still makes me anxious but in a different way.

In a good way, if anxiety can be used in a good way.

“Elias I need to show you something.” He follows me as I head back to my bedroom, pulling the prize of a ring out of the drawer.

I set it in his hand and watch as his eyes widen, a “Wow” slipping out of his lips.

“I was engaged before I came to Vancouver,” I confess, nervously running a hand through my hair. “And I thought it was love but looking back on it- it wasn’t love. It was me being used as a trophy and him being used as a placeholder in my heart that’s never been completely filled. And, I’m really sorry for how I reacted, but you kind of looked like him in the right lighting but more than that- I felt for you what I felt for him in the beginning. I want to kiss you, and I want to hug you, and I want to go on cute dates to buy chocolate with you and- god- I wanted to do that with him in the beginning to but to be truthful, these feelings are lasting much longer with you than they did with him-“”So you felt that, too?”

I stop the pacing that I hadn’t even realized I’d begun to do, pausing to look at the slight smirk on his face.

“What?”

“The heart racing, the lasting glances, the desire to be near each other, you felt that too?” He inquires.

I nod slowly, watching as he sets the engagement ring back in the drawer and closes it. It’s like closing a chapter that’s been dragging on. I’m ready to move on.

And I get that chance to move on when Elias stands up to his full height, looking like his awkward self as he just stands there. But the lights from those Christmas lights he helped me hang up bounces across his face and hair and body in just the right places and I imagine him in the bed beside me as we wake up in the morning.

It’s something I want more than anything.

“Elias,” I speak softly, “Are you going to kiss me?”

He takes a small step forward but I’m too impatient to wait. My fingers grip his T-shirt as our lips connect. It feels like we’ve waited our whole lives to kiss yet we know we have the rest of our lives to continue kissing.

I totally forgot that I had music playing until “Thinking Out Loud” begins to play through my speaker. It makes me melt into the man holding me and we sway along to the song, enjoying each other’s company and the moment itself.

The next morning, I get a delivery at my front door.

Pink roses.

And a note.

Don’t forget to plug the Wi-Fi box back in. XO, Elias

#NHL imagines #Elias Pettersson imagine #Elias Pettersson preference #NHL one shots

[daughters-and-winsisters]

Huntress- Part 22: Promise

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E22 so warning:SPOILERS

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty Part Twenty One

“There’s gotta be a way out.” Uncle Dean said firmly to the room. He’d found the control panel and was switching all the lights that he could back on, revealing the empty hallways. Toni was on the steps, slightly higher than the rest of you as though putting on some sort of authoritarian presence would help in this kind of situation.

You’d sunk to the floor, trying to clean up your wound with the first aid kit even though your Dad had told you to wait for him. He came in, shooting frowning at you, he had a cloth and a spare sweatshirt. “Hey, I got it.” He said gently, kneeling down and taking over. You threw your head back against the wall and sighed, “She didn’t mean to miss.” “What?” “Mary, she aimed to kill. I just ducked quickly.” You said, not really sure what your point was. “She’s not herself, you know that?” “Oh Y/N knows that better than anyone.” Toni cut in.

“Alright alright,” Uncle Dean waved her away, “come on. Let’s think. Uh…air vents?” “There’s choke points, not even I could squeeze through.” Toni dismissed. “Okay,” Uncle Dean nodded, “well then how about we just kill you.” “I’ll do it.” You said, offering Toni a sickly-sweet smile. Toni glared back, “Mummy would be so proud.” “Seriously, you heard what Ketch said,” Dean continued, “we’ve got three days of air. Killing her might buy us another day.” “But you need me,” Toni said, “I’m the only one who can reverse Mary’s treatment.” “There is no reverse,” You said, “there’s nothing we can do…” You glanced at your Dad sadly and he paused from bandaging, taking a moment to realise just how familiar you were with this sort of thing. “We’ve progressed since then, Y/N. There’s reverse treatment and it’s not yet too late for Mary. Face it, you need me alive.”

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

“It won’t work.” Toni said, making you all look up from your books. “We can use magic to reverse the mechanisms.” Your Dad explained, taking another lore book from the increasing pile. “Yes,” Toni nodded, “and it won’t work. Ketch will have thought about that and prevented any magic. I know it.” The bandage on your arm was a little too tight and you kept having to wiggle your fingers to make it more comfortable. The blood loss had made you a little more light headed than would be ideal in this sort of scenario, but you were okay. You all leaned back from your books in defeat, “Tell me something,” you began, your voice was louder than it usually was and you were holding back rage, “if you’re so fucking smart then you find a way out of here.” Everyone stared at you, Toni’s face white. “Not so talkative now, are you?” You taunted, “Listen, if you wanna circle around us making comments at the very least make them useful. Because otherwise you’re just wasting air, okay?”

There was a moment where you thought that was it, that was all anyone was going to say, but Toni said something you weren’t expecting, “You can get us out.” You glanced over to your Dad and Uncle before looking back at Toni, “What?” “These powers that you have, you can control them. You can use them to do just about anything. Yes, getting the doors open will be mentally exhausting but it is possible. You can control them, Y/N, focus on getting us out of here.” “I’m sorry, powers?” Uncle Dean repeated. “Y/N has similar psychic abilities to what Sam had a few years ago….don’t look so surprised, of course we knew about those. Only, they’ve become enhanced with the introduction of a Nephilim. Some sort of celestial power surge if you will.” “Like that power up thing that happened to Cas?” Uncle Dean questioned and you shrugged. “Yeah, but all I’ve done is  pass out and unwillingly had visions.” You commented, annoyed you hadn’t realised this earlier. “You’ve had visions?” Your Dad asked. You didn’t look at him. “Y/N, I can try and help you. This is our only shot.” Toni said, ignoring your Dad completely. You looked at your Dad, he had a concerned expression and was fidgeting with his shirt. “This is crazy.” Uncle Dean said before getting up from his chair. “Again, visions?” Your Dad repeated. “I don’t know…I saw you three in the car when you were on your way back to the bunker. It just happened.” Your Dad nodded slowly.

You took a deep breath in and looked at Toni, “Okay, I can try. Dad, Uncle De, you guys should look for other options. We’ve not got long…” Uncle Dean nodded gently, “Okay, kid.” Your Dad came over to you and reassured you, “Whatever happens, it’s okay. Alright, bug?” You nodded. “Yeah, Dad. Thanks.”

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

Your brain hurt. It was so tired. Exhausted from the blood loss, shaken up from the past few days and practically falling apart over this stupid celestial power crap. And to top it all off, Toni was going to be one of the last people you see. That was great. Just great.

“Just focus on it.” Toni hissed, already getting impatient. You’d spent hours staring at a pencil trying to move it. It was ridiculous. You felt like Matilda only you weren’t going to be the hero, but the idiot who can see visions of other people across the state by accident but can’t even move a pencil when they try. The pencil didn’t even look real anymore, almost a 2D imprint on the table. You could scratch it away with a knife if you tried. “Toni, it’s not gonna work.” You sighed, leaning back in your chair. This was it- you’d already admitted defeat. On the other hand, Toni had not. “Brooks. We are going to die and you are the only one here who can change that. I refuse to die. Especially surrounded by you…you fools!” “Oh, you refuse to die, do you? Oh thank goodness! Don’t worry everyone, Toni refuses to die. Good luck with this one, Death.” “You’re unbelievable.” Toni tutted. “I’m not the one who spent years of my life lying and cheating, murdering other people and their families all for a job,” you shot up from your seat, “It’s not even a real job! And you didn’t even get it!” You chuckled, angry and fed up. As you rose from your chair, both you and Toni remained unaware of the books on the shelves and the plates and the cups on the tables rising with you. They floated, a few centimetres above their resting place, shaking with you as your rage boiled over. “Brooks, this isn’t about that. We need to get out of here, it’s not my fault you can’t even move a bloody pencil. You’re pathetic.”

You cried back at her, “I tried! I tried for hours! It’s not going to happen.”

“Fine,” Toni snapped, “I’ll find a way out myself.”

You watched her turn the corner and felt all the anger in you die away, sending you to the floor. If it wasn’t for the crash of everything else falling back with you, you would have stayed knelt. But the overbearing sound raced to your ears and you rose back to your feet, scanning your surroundings. There was crockery and cutlery and pages and pages of books scattered about the floor. Some of the plates were smashed into pieces as unwanted jigsaws. Most of the books landed back shut, but a few were sprawled out, pages bent and creased where they had landed.

Your hands were trembling.

Your ears were ringing.

Your wound pounded with a dull sting.

The pencil was gone.

You stumbled backwards, each breath hitched in your throat and your blood throbbed in your head. In a desperate panic you stammered out an attempt to shout that came out as a barely a whisper: “Dad…”

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

Sam’s POV

Dean and I were stood around a pile of blueprints, desperately skimming through the maps of the Bunker, trying to find a loophole in the system or any sort of emergency escape. There was one way out, but the walls were way too thick to break down quick enough, especially with the lack of air. “How do you think they’re getting on?” I asked Dean, nervously folding down the corner of a page. “It’s Toni and Y/N, they’re probably killing each other.” “Dean.” “Well, you remember how freaked out you were when you had those dreams, Y/N’s probably feeling just the same, if not worse. There’s no way we’re getting out of here that way. I’m sorry, I just don’t think it’s possible. Maybe if we had more time, but we can’t possibly do this in just a couple hours…and frankly, I don’t think Y/N thinks she can either.” “Yeah,” I nodded, “you’re probably right…I just can’t believe this is how it’s gonna end. After everything. I wish there was a way, even if we could just get Y/N out of here.” Dean looked at me for a long time, his eyes sad, “Yeah…me too…”

I thought about how unfair this was, about how Y/N had finally escaped those British Men of Letter’s bitches, and that they were still going to be the death of her. The bunker was supposed to be a home, but Ketch was right, it was just another tomb. I could already feel the air getting thin, my breaths were deeper each time and there was a faint exhaustion to atmosphere.

A crash made me and Dean glance up from the maps, it wasn’t just something falling, it was a cacophony of noises only all at once. I leapt from my chair, Dean not far behind and raced to where we’d last left Y/N.

She was on the floor, out cold as though the air had already left her lungs. “Y/N!” I hurried over to where she lay and examined her for any signs of wounds. Other than the one I’d bandaged earlier, she looked unharmed. “Y/N, hey, hey? Y/N, sweetheart, hey. Come on. Wake up, bug.” I panicked, holding her so she was leaning against my chest. She didn’t show any time of waking up, still unconscious. “DEAN!?” I cried out, checking to see if she was still breathing. Her breaths were shallow, but she was breathing. Dean raced over to us, “Come on, let’s get her to a bed.”

I gently picked up my girl, following Dean down the hallway.

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

Y/N lay on my bed, her bullet wound looking like a cat scratch, now. Dean had gone to find Toni and figure out what had happened as well as a way out of here. I know I should have been helping them. I know that there was no point being at her side while we had less than a day left for us, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

Her face was pale and my stomach churned.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” I whispered, moving so I was next to her on the bed and taking her hand in mine.

Her hand was cold and my stomach churned.

Even though she was alive, I couldn’t help but think about how this could be the last time I was going to see her. Unresponsive, unconscious.

“Please wake up,” my voice broke and my lip trembled, “just wake up, Y/N. For your Dad, yeah? Please…”

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

Dean came in the room. His movements were slow which meant there wasn’t any good news. “How is she?” He asked, perching on the bed and avoiding both my gaze and where Y/N lay. “I don’t know.” I admitted, shaking my head. “She’s a good kid,” Dean said, “and you’re a good Dad.” I smiled through teary eyes, “And she has a good Uncle.” Dean smiled back.

We sat in silence, neither wanting to ruin the melancholy moment we were in.

Y/N stirred a little and I adjusted, giving her room to move. Her eyes opened slowly and she brought her hand to her head, scrunching her face up like she had a headache. I smiled with relief, able to forget for a moment our doom. “Y/N?” I said, “Oh thank God.” I let out the breath I’d been holding, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” She slowly moved so she was sat up against the headboard, looking at both me and Dean. “You okay, bug?” I asked. The way she responded was as though her reality was a few seconds behind. “Yeah, I’m okay…” She managed.

Dean looked at her sternly, “You better not be doing that thing where you say you’re okay, but you’re actually not.” “You meant that thing you always do?” She managed with a smile and I let out a panicked chuckle. “Shut up.” Dean said, letting himself smile and giving her hand a squeeze.

“What the hell happened?” I asked. Y/N shrugged and went quiet. “Hey, uh, Dean, maybe you should go help Toni?” I suggested, shooting him a look that only a brother would understand. He nodded, putting a hand gently on my shoulder as he passed by.

Y/N stared at our surroundings, her face crestfallen and tired. “Everything…fell with me.” She said quietly, picking at the fraying edges of her sleeve. “What do you mean?” “I tried…I really tried. But I don’t know what this thing is in me and I just don’t know how to control it…” “I know you tried, sweetheart. It’s okay.” “But I couldn’t do it…and Toni was getting mad. I got angry and then something inside me just sort of grew and grew, and then it just went. And everything else…went.” I frowned, trying to understand or grasp any sort of pattern to what was happening to her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know what was happening. I was supposed to be the one she went to for help. And I was helpless.

“I don’t know what this is, but we’ll figure it out, okay? It’s what we always do. I promise.” I wrapped my arms around her and held her close to my chest. It wasn’t something I would admit, but we were both more than aware that a promise in this situation was empty. This was our last day.

I held back a sob and pressed a kiss to her head instead.

“We don’t have a way out of here, do we?” Y/N looked up at me with scared eyes and I felt my heart ache with the guilt of a helpless father. “We’re working on it.” I said. I probably didn’t sound confident at all.

I sat on the bed, my daughter in my arms as though that could protect her from what was coming. As though a barrier of my body was a suitable opponent for a lack of oxygen.

Her timid voice broke the silence. Timid: nothing like what it was when she had shouted at Toni.

“Dad?”

Her voice was so quiet and I clenched my jaw to stop myself from tearing up. I had to be strong for her.

“Yeah, bug?”

“I’m sorry…”

I held her close and shook my head, “No, sweetie. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m so proud of you, you know that? So proud,” My voice broke and a tear escaped, running down my cheek, “and your Mom…she’d be so proud of you.”

She nodded against my hold, “I know, I just feel like I blew it…”

“You didn’t.” I said with certainty.

She sat up and slowly turned her head to the corridor to the back room. I let her go and wiped my eyes before she looked at me. “…blew it…” She repeated to herself, getting up from the bed and hurrying down the hallway. “Y/N!?”  I followed behind her, confused as to where this was going.

We ended up in one of the backrooms where she moved around the boxes as best she could with only one usable arm, clearly looking for something specific. I tried to help as best I could, but didn’t know what she was looking for. She then kicked away a box and grinned. “What is it?” I asked, leaning over to see. In front of her was the grenade launcher, ready to shoot. We’d never actually used it, but Dean would sometimes bring up how desperate he was to fire the thing. I nodded, letting out a laugh of disbelief.

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

Reader’s POV

“You’re lunatics,” Toni paced the room with her arms folded over her chest, “this is a colossally stupid idea.” “Yeah you’re right let’s just suffocate to death and wonder if we could’ve made it out. Sounds a lot safer.” You remarked. “It’s big, it’s beautiful…and its’ dumb.” Uncle Dean smirked, holding the grenade launcher over his shoulder. “The explosion could kill us all! You’d bring the whole bloody place crashing down!” Toni continued. “Yeah.” Uncle Dean smirked. “Yeah.” Dad nodded. “Yeah.” You grinned.

“You’re lunatics. Action-movie-loving, cheeseburger-eating, moronic American lunatics!” “Hope you’re not including me in that.” You smiled sweetly to her as your Dad took her away. You watched them go, choosing to stay behind with your Uncle and watch in case anything happened. Although mostly because it was really cool and you wanted to watch.

Uncle Dean fired, the moment between the pulling of the trigger and the impact of the grenade was barely a millisecond. There was a mighty explosion where pieces of the place crashed down to the floor, bricks and rubble and dust rained down on the floor, but you could just about make out Uncle Dean clambering into a gap in the wall, coughing at the dust. You raced after him, almost tripping up over the pile of bricks. Their rusty colour was interrupted by streaks of ash and dust. There was a ladder built into the wall just behind the gap, you glanced up to see your Uncle making his way to the top, shielding your eyes from the falling rubble. Without hesitating, you followed on.

The wounded arm of yours groaned in pain with each tug of your body up the ladder. You winced, but continued on. Luckily, you had made it close enough for him to see you, “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?” He coughed, doing a double take. “Keep going, old man.” You said, waiting for his foot to move so you could grab the next rung. He shook his head at you, adjusted his grip and turned his head to keep going. As he did so, a rumble of debris made itself known as it fell its way down on top of you both. “De!” You cried, shooting a hand out over above your head in panic and ducking your head, preparing for impact. The sudden movement made the wound in your arm send a strike of pain along it’s nerves and you whimpered. Nothing happened for a little too long, making you frown. “Y/N, how the hell are you doing that?” Uncle Dean said in awe, making you look up. Where your hand was reached out was the pile of rubble, floating in mid-air, as though in slow motion. “I don’t know…” You stammered out, watching it with both amazement and fear that it could come crashing down at any moment, “De you should go in case it falls.” “No way, it’ll fall on you.” He said sternly, putting a hand out for you to take. You looked at it, it was covered in dirt and there was a little scratch that had been bleeding. “If I take my attention away from this it’ll probably fall on both of us. Just go!” “Y/N take my hand. If we’re lucky the rubble will just fall past us. I think you’ve moved it out of the way a little.” You hesitated, watching your Uncle’s determined expression: “Y/N!”

Reluctantly, you turned your attention away from the falling objects and grasped hold of your Uncles hand, immediately holding your body as close to the wall as you could in attempt to miss the debris. They fell past, most missing you by a couple of inches, but a few fell onto you both, making cuts and bruises and gashes. The sound was never-ending. One particularly large rock slammed into Uncle Dean’s leg, making him cry out in pain, it’ passed you by but caught the rung you were standing on, knocking it off the wall. You yelped, feeling your weight now relying on nothing to keep you up there. “I’ve got you!” Uncle Dean assured, his voice just about audible over the crash beneath you. He pulled you up so you were able to grab hold of the next rung which you did. The pain in your arm was worse than when you’d been shot in the first place. You grunted and switched so you were relying on the other arm. “Thanks,” You breathed, “I think that’s the last of them.” “You good?” He asked, despite being the one with the obvious wound. “I’m good,” You nodded, “let’s go.”

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

With a limp in his step, Uncle Dean made his way to the door of the bunker, you following behind. You’d flicked what you hoped was the override switch to the system. When the door opened instead of a doomsday red, the normal yellowish glow welcomed you home and you were overcome with relief. Uncle Dean put his arm around you and pulled you in for a quick side hug, ruffling your hair. He smiled proudly, looking down on the bunker’s interior. “Nice going, kiddo.”

Part Twenty Three- To Be Saved

Masterlist I do not own these gifs (Tag list after cut )

@nnoxygen @summerbee53 @lil-sister-winchester @itsrainbowunicornstuff @graceless-dragon @iamflanneltrash @clairedelalune @winchester-2301 @lavender-winchester @anarahma @mariahoedt @shewhoscreamssilently @livelikeawinchester @metaphysicalmisha @storyofawinchester @fandomsstolemylife00 @griff1ndor @mollykmccarthy @27bmm @archangelsandwarlocks @bea789 @imprettycool-i-guess @lovelife-tothefullest @jayankles @seninjakitey @stressedoutkitten @juneinthered @thyotakukimkim @susan-is-in-the-house @fountain-pen-of-youth @analisespn

@barbygrozna @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @chelseypaigeake @impala-hunter @msdooos @starswirlblitz @fanboyswhereare-you @amorluzymelodia @d-willem @adidabach @blackjack-the-sword @spazzstiel @booksarecoolio @winchesters-favorite-girl @squirels-angels-and-moose @27bmm @practicallyawinchester @demonic-meatball @xsecretrejectx @bea789 @sarahthewriter55 @jiggysupernatural @trashforwinchesters @snazzyjazzyh @diesintheshower @intoomuchfandoms @the-chick-with-the-best-fandom @kbarnett1089 @riversong-sam @intoomuchfandoms @teamfreewill-67 @revwinchester @jensen-jarpad @itseverythingilike @avalon821 @miss-miep @lovelouisbabe @wcmanwcnder @graceless-dragon @sofy7012 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @oneshotsdeanshort @caroldanversinatardis @soulfiretheobsessed @whovianayesha @fandomsstolemylife00 @straightasdeanwinchester @soullessbabee @heytherecutie13 @spnkisum @clairedelalune @honeybeetrash @sammy-salamander @reddeputation @internationalmusicteacher @andyl394 @kysosa @stitchattacks @not-astounding

#sorry this one is so long big yikes #huntress #sam winchester #dean winchester #toni bevell #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winhester fic #sam winchester gif #dean winchester gif #daughterfic #sam winchester x daughter!reader #reader insert #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #supernatural oneshot #sam winchester oneshot

[justalittlelitnerd]

The Bromance Book Club by Lyssa Kay Adams

“First rule of book club?” They finished in unison. “You don’t talk about book club.” What. The. Fuck 

So I’ve been wanting to read this book since before it came out, but just wasn’t in the place to buy it so when I got an email from Amazon saying the Kindle version was on sale for $3 I wasn’t going to pass up the chance. And I’m glad I waited until it was on sale because I was just a little bit disappointed. For the most part, I think it’s once again a case of failing to manage my expectations. If I had gone into this book thinking it was simply a cute rom-com about a failing marriage than I think I would have enjoyed it well enough. But this book was so well talked about I expected something more. 

The book club was funnier than I expected with all the men being characters in their own rights and I loved that it presented the opportunity for them to tackle toxic masculinity, gender roles, and feminism. I thought it was interesting that Gavin had a stutter that he was super insecure about because it felt like a twist on the standard athlete romance since he lacked a certain confidence that is usually synonymous with competing in the major leagues. 

Additionally, I’m not sure if the twins were absolutely necessary to the story. For the most part they felt like a plot driver because the pregnancy is the reason they got married so quickly in the first place and arguably why they’re marriage lasted as long as it did (though three years really doesn’t feel long enough for the issues they had but whatever) and part of why they’re keen to save their relationship. I think it would have been better if the girls were a little older so they could feel more engaging, but I’m also biased because I’m not a fan of children (specifically toddlers) in romance books. I can see the appeal of babies because they’re cutesy and older kids because they can interact with the adults and provide some comedy, but toddlers are just an awkward age in my opinion.

Finally, the fucking sister pissed me off. I understand Thea and Liv had a lot of childhood issues between their parent’s divorce and general lack of love and guidance, but the fact that Liv turns so quickly on Gavin and doesn’t support her sister when she decides to give him a chance. It started to feel like Thea was going to have to choose between her husband/family and her sister and that wasn’t the kind of energy I needed in my romance book especially in the age of Corona. Of course, it being a romance book in the end it all works out. 

Basically, I would recommend this book as a fun romance read about an awkward man trying to save his marriage, but just know what your in for.

Keep reading for some fun and often insightful quotes!      

“All spouses become strangers to each other at some point in a marriage,” Del said. “All human beings are a work in progress, and we don’t all change at the same pace. Who knows how many people have gotten divorced simply because they failed to recognize that what they thought were insurmountable problems were actually just temporary phases?”

The need to hit something surged again like a bad case of Twitter rage.

“Men are idiots. We complain that women are so mysterious and shit, and we never know what they want. We fuck up our relationships because we convince ourselves that it’s too hard to figure them out. But the real problem is with us. We think we’re not supposed to feel things and cry and express ourselves. We expect women to do all the emotional labor in a relationship and then act confused when they give up on us.”

“Romance novels are primarily written by women for women, and they’re entirely about how they want to be treated and what they want out of life and in a relationship. We read them to be more comfortable expressing ourselves and to look at things from their perspective.”

“Modern romance novelists use the patriarchal society of old British aristocracy to explore the gender-based limitations placed on women today in both the professional and personal spheres. That shit is feminist as fuck.”

If a man wants to leave you, wave goodbye and lock the doors. You’ve got better things to do than chase a lost cause.

The backlash against the PSL is a perfect example of how toxic masculinity permeates even the most mundane things in life. If masses of women like something, our society automatically begins to mock them. Just like romance novels. If women like them, they must be a joke, right?

“You don’t wink.” “That’s not true.” “It absolutely is true. A woman remembers every time a man winks at her, because we love winking. It’s like catnip. Wink at us, and we roll over and start purring. You haven’t winked at me in a long time.” “Then I’m an idiot.” Gavin slowly lowered his gaze to lips. “Because I wouldn’t mind hearing you purr.”

Thea blinked several times and tore her gaze away from Gavin, who was studying her again like he did during the theater. Like he did on Saturday. As if seeing her for the first time. Maybe he was. It had been years since she felt like he saw her at all.

She had changed into a pair of sweatpants and his old Huntsville Rockets minor league sweatshirt, the one she’d claimed shortly after they started dating. He’d lost all coherent thought the first time he saw her in it. Something regressively possessive stole over him, as if he’d claimed her. Officially. With a sweatshirt.

“It means that whatever happened to your wife before she met you plays a role in who she is today,” Malcolm said. “We are all the sum total of our experiences at any given time, and our reactions to things are shaped by them. Just like in romance novels. Whatever a character went through before the start of the book will eventually determine how they react to things that happen in the book.” “But we’re talking about my real life here. Not a book.” “Same principles apply,” Malcolm said. “That’s why fiction resonates with people. It speaks to universal truths.”

“‘More than anything, she feared that she would awaken some morning and realize her entire life had passed her by,’” he read. “‘That at some point, she had become less than. Less than w-w-what she used to imagine. Less than w-wh-what she used to hope for. Nothing more than a silent accessory to a man. Nothing more than her own mother, a passive face at a glittering table.’”

"The point of all this is to court her, Gavin. Not seduce her.” “What’s the difference?” Mack snorted again. “It’s a fucking miracle you got married at all.” Gavin flipped him off. “The difference,” Malcolm said, “is to make her want you, not prove how much you want her.”

“Something has changed. What is it?” He offered to deal with Dad for me. He kissed me and made me want to forget everything bad. He made pancakes with the girls. Thea shook her head. “Nothing.”

"We women must steal our power where we can, and in the world of the ton, that power is sadly limited to the reduction of other women.”

“I do not require compliments, my lord. I’m well aware of my own attractiveness, which, of course, no lady is supposed to admit, but such is the world. English society seems to rest upon the requirement that women are pitted against each other until we all emerge envious of the other.”

“If there was a website where strange men posted thousands of pictures of you, yeah, I w-wouldn’t get used to it.” “That’s different. I’m not famous like you are.” “You’re the most important person in the w-w-world to me, so I beg to differ.”

“But we must find a way to produce and enjoy content that celebrates the fierceness of women without, at the same time, belittling a woman’s ability to decipher fact from fiction.”

#bromance book club #lyssa kay adams #adult romance #romance books #books #book club #booklr #book blog #quotes #book quotes

[lovinnscarletknight]

Billionaire - Part Five

Extra long part, but enjoy! I’ll leave the masterlist here so you can find the other parts to Billionaire and all my other work! Until next week :) - Angela x

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

It had been a couple of weeks since Wanda and Katherine spoke in her room and the scars on Katherine’s arms had only grown. They were now midway up her forearms and looked more like nasty burns than small cuts. Katherine thought they were disgusting and even went as far to buy as many long-sleeved shirts as she has t shirts; she wasn’t risking anyone else finding out. It had been getting harder to hide since it was starting to get hotter and people were going to start questioning her outfit choices. Luckily, she was out of her boot and was walking properly again, but obviously things weren’t going to be as normal as she hoped them to be. Pulling her Midtown sweater over her hands she left her room for dinner with her father and team.

Her feet were covered by a pair of white socks helping her making her slip quietly into her chair next to Steve. Tony noticed his daughter’s off mood due to her lack of makeup and her hair carelessly shoved into a ponytail. She served herself some vegetables and chicken before waiting for everyone else to eat; this was natural behaviour for her, something her mother taught her as it was polite. Tony caught Katherine’s eye and she sent him a smile, but not a usual goofy one that he loved so dearly. Dinner was quiet apart from comments from Vision and Sam who tried to start conversations, it was never this awkward and everyone knew something was up, but they didn’t dare ask.  

“May I be excused? I have a chem paper due tomorrow and I still have work to do on it?” Katherine spoke for the first time at the table, all eyes on her father waiting for his approval. Katherine didn’t like feeling this exposed around people she trusted but with the never-ending burning of the scars, she couldn’t risk anything. Millions of thoughts ran around Tony’s head as what was up with his daughter, was it her time of the month? No, he’s been told a million times by Natasha never to ask that question. Was everything alright at school? When he met his daughters questioning eyes he nodded quickly.

“Of course, honey. I’ll bring you some ice cream in a bit if you like?” He asked Katherine as she stood pushing her chair in and picking up her plate. “It’s ok, not really in the mood” She spoke leaving the dining room. Tony watched his daughter disappear around the corner and he put his fork down, his hunger disappearing. He stood from the table leaving to his lab without a word and Pepper’s concerned eyes following.

Katherine had kept her big lamp on rather than her main light, that way it was darker, and she didn’t have to see the ugly covering her arms. The teenager had been struggling with balancing school, family and this unknown source of power she has acquired; this meant that she had become very distant from her friends and they didn’t even send her a message to see if she was ok. As she scribbled the last chemical formula down, she shut the paper and sat on her window seat looking down on New York. Katherine always thought about what it would be like to live in an apartment building like some of her friends, like what it would be like to not have parts of your life shown to the world. But she would never know that life.

She brought her hands up and electricity danced around her finger tips delicately causing the scars to travel further up her arm. Katherine was so fascinated by her new-found power; the pain had turned into a dull ache. Her eyes caught the sight of a slightly damaged envelope waiting by her feet. She hadn’t written to Tom in weeks, she kept putting off writing her brother because she knew she couldn’t lie to him. The paper felt foreign in her fingertips as she opened the letter addressed to Katherine Stark.

Kathy,

Dad wrote to me explaining what happened. I wish I was at home with you making sure you get better rather than out here. I started to worry when I didn’t get your usual letter but don’t worry, take your time getting better, I’ll wait.

Sargent says there is a possibility I’ll be able to come home for a couple of days in December, which I know is a while away yet, but I know you told me to tell you if anything changes. Remember Sarah? The women I told you about in my last letter? Well we went on a date, well not really a date more us both sitting together in the lunch room at our own table. I think you’ll really like her, she reminds me of Mom a little bit, maybe Dad will approve too? She’s a medic here and I’m not going to go into details, but I got injured, I’m 100% fine don’t worry, but I said one of those cringey pickup lines and now she loves me. What can I say, I’m just like Dad in that way?

The next video chat slot for me would be on the 2 November which is a few weeks from now, so I’ll call you on the big screen and I’ll finally get to see if you’ve grown (although I highly doubt it). Not much has happened in the past weeks so I’ll wait for you to write me back.

Love you always,

Tom.

The girls smile stayed small on her face as she held the letter close to her. She was happy her brother had found someone to make him happy, and of course if he liked her, Katherine would too. A knock on her door disturbed her from her thoughts and she quietly let them know they could come in. Steve knew that Katherine would be angry at Wanda, possibly raging angry but he had to offer his help, he promised Wanda he wouldn’t tell anyone and for all the years he had known the youngest Stark, he could never hurt her.

“Wanda said you wanted to talk to me?” He cursed himself for not just being honest. This very sentence made Katherine’s heart race at a hundred miles per hour, how was she meant to tell him, did she want to tell him at all? She turned to face Steve who was sat on the edge of her bed.

“I’m scared” She whispered her emerald eyes holding back tears as a lump rose in her throat, she decided she trusted Steve more than any of the others because he had proved it. Every year on the anniversary of her mother’s death, Steve would take her to the cemetery. It was something Thomas asked Steve to do before he left for the army since Tony could never bring himself to go. And every year, Steve would hold the girl when she cried, and he would take her out for a milkshake at a diner she used to go to when she was younger. Steve was pretty much a brother to Katherine, and she was thankful to have him. Steve’s brows furrowed, and he took her small hands in his.

“Of what Kath? What’s going on?” She sniffled before staring deep into his eyes. “You must promise me you won’t tell a soul until I’m ready for other people to know ok?” He nodded slowly and sat back as Katherine pulled her hands away. She knew it was a bad idea and she was frightened of what would happen, but she also knew she had to show someone what was happening to her. The soft blue material of her sweatshirt was pulled up revealing the burn marks. Steve’s eyes widened, and he gently took hold of her arms. A shiver ran through her arms and she ground her teeth together and electric sparks swarmed her fingertips.

“I can’t control it. Wanda says she is going to help me but every time it happens, these burns grow. Steve, what if they don’t stop? What if they cover me and I’ll be ugly?” She told him yanking her sleeves down suddenly feeling exposed. He was still in shock as he saw you bring you knees to your chest and tears left the teenagers eyes yet again.

“You will never be ugly, if anything, it makes you more beautiful. The only way we can find out what is going on is if we ask Bruce or possibly Tony for help, okay? I know it’s hard telling people, but I don’t want you being in pain. I can schedule you in for training with Wanda, but I’ll just put it in as private training, so nobody can watch” The girl jumped up wrapping her arms around the very tall super solider. She mumbled a million thanks as she cried into his shoulder, his arms wrapping protectively around the young girl, “It’s just so hard keeping this from people. Even my friends haven’t noticed something is off” She told him pulling away and composing herself.

“Then you must be doing something right. You don’t want other people to know remember? Now get some sleep, your dad will want to talk to you about all this” Katherine nodded before he left the room. She grabbed a pen and paper and started writing to Thomas.

***

“11 Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos when the attack occurred. What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeri” Katherine quickly shut the news off as Wanda came into the room, her face showing no emotion and Steve at her side.

“Training will start after the meeting with the Secretary” She wished them luck and was left alone in the living room. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she saw Peter had sent her a link to a chemistry revision site and she laughed to herself. Earlier in the day, the two teens had been talking about what they do in their spare time and apparently Peter just revises, so he sent her the link and said it would be very helpful; she quickly messaged back thanks. Katherine and Peter had grown closer ever since the day he helped her out of school, Peter was excited when they first started messaging and he has recently been sitting with her at lunch too due to her friends not really realising she is still there. Katherine sharply turned her head as she heard the door slam and Wanda appear, “Ready?”

Katherine felt very uncomfortable in her training uniform as it consisted of a sports bra and leggings, her arms on full display for the world to see, and possibly even her father. The elastic of the clothing was irritating against her laceration scars on her torso, which she hated. Everyone here had already seen them since them but that didn’t make the voices in her head any less horrible. Wanda was stood opposite her with her hands out in front of her, “Okay, first I want you to show me what you can do” She nodded before stretching her arms out and watching small electric sparks dance around her fingertips, the grow of the burns being more ticklish than painful, “Ok, now I want you to project it around you like a bubble, imagine what colour it would be, how it would look to others” Katherine imagined it to be transparent but blue streaks of electricity swarmed around, as she opened her eyes, she saw fiery balls of sparking electricity in her palms. 

Wanda smiled slightly but the peaceful moment was ruined. A painful scream escaped Katherine’s lips as she felt the burns grow; they dug deep and felt like someone was dragging blade up her arms, stopping at her shoulders. Katherine dropped to her knees crying in agony as her skin felt like it was on fire Wanda automatically called for Steve as she carried her to a bench sitting her down. Blood trickled down Katherine’s arms as Steve came rushing in holding a med kit.

“What happened?” He demanded as he held a cloth to the bleeding scars, it wasn’t too heavy but extremely painful. “I think the scars have reached their limit, they are like lightning bolts, more burn marks that will heal but obviously she’ll have the lines. I think she can fully commit to her power now. It was extraordinary” Wanda spoke as the wounds stopped bleeding on Katherine’s arms. Steve’s worried eyes searched for any pain in the teenager’s face but before he could speak she stood and was speaking to Wanda. “Again. I’m fixing this now and once we get this out the way training can start right?” Without a word Wanda stood and watched the young girl breathe deeply and start the process again.

Katherine was exhausted when her training had ended. She had had fourteen training sessions now and was loving it however she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in her blankets on her bed and sleep; but that wasn’t happening tonight. Katherine’s door was flung open and in came Steve Rogers, he looked tired and his eyes were red. “Steve? What’s the matter?” He closed her door before he flicked on her lamp and sat in the chair next to her desk.

“Peggy” His only word echoed in the deadly silent room and the girl’s chest felt heavy. Katherine had known about Peggy and Steve since she was old enough to understand what people were saying and she knew how much she meant to the man she considered family.

“Steve” She started but instead just got up and hugged the broken man. Steve always thought of Katherine as a younger sister and he was so protective of her it was unbelievable. Tony heavily approved of their relationship but it normally turned to jealousy when he realised his daughter would go to Steve to talk about her problems and not her father. He was aware he wasn’t the number one father in the world, but he couldn’t wait for the day she came to him instead of Steve. Steve broke the hug first by sitting the girl opposite him on her bed. “It is going to be a secret from Tony and he can’t know because I could get arrested.” The mention of a possible arrest made her eyes widen but somehow, she was intrigued more. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m finding Bucky”

TAG LIST 

@supernaturallover2002 @savedbystark @editsbyjenny @seriouslyobsessed

@queendarktigress @racewife2004

#iron man #iron dad #iron daughter #avengers #civil war #katherine stark #tony stark #tony stark dad #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #captain america #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #black widow #fanfiction #fanfic #infinity war #endgame #marvel #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home

[ridiasfangirlings]

AngustSarumi. Saruhiko gives a ring to Misaki, at the first year of relationship like a fianceé, it was a beautiful moment for both in Sarumi pre-betray. When Fushimi leaves Homra, Misaki throw his ring for rage, and Fuhsimi feels injured, but don´t know that Misaki day after search the ring until find. Which will be the Fushimi reaction when POST-ROK, notice that Misaki have the ring in a neckl

Aw, so cute but also angsty. Like imagine Fushimi buys this when the two of them first move in together when they’re starry eyed teenagers, though of course he doesn’t admit that it’s for anything special. Like he’s out one day and he spots it at a pawn shop and for whatever reason the ring makes him think of Yata. He buys it and then afterward he’s sitting on his bunk staring at it and thinking about what an idiot he is for buying something like this, like what is he some kind of stupid romantic girl and who buys a ring for their best friend anyway. But he can’t bring himself to just get rid of it either, part of him thinking that if he gives Yata this ring it’s like Yata is his, something valuable that belongs to him alone. Eventually Yata gets back to the apartment and he spots Fushimi there still staring at something in his hand. Yata wonders what he’s looking at and Fushimi jumps a little, having been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear Yata come in, and he ends up dropping the ring. Yata picks it up and wonders where the ring came from, Fushimi shifts all uncomfortably as he says it’s just something he found and Yata can have it if he wants. Yata’s like can I really have it saying that he thinks it’s cool and Fushimi looks away a little and nods, Yata smiles because he just got this cool ring from Saruhiko. Of course then months later they join Homra and someone asks Yata about the ring and he’s all innocent like ‘Saruhiko gave it to me isn’t it cool’ and the Homra guys are like oh so you are engaged, Yata’s like wait what (and then he tries to argue that it’s just platonic and the Homra alphabet are all 'right platonic.’ Yata keeps trying to argue but the more he thinks about it the more it feels like an engagement ring and trying to argue that he doesn’t feel that way about Fushimi feels weirdly like a lie).

So then when the betrayal happens at some point Yata throws the ring away. Maybe it’s not at the actual moment of the betrayal but the first time they run into each other afterward, like Fushimi shows up in front of Yata in blue clothes with his hair parted to one side, smirking and taunting Yata and talking about how stupid Homra and Mikoto are. Yata keeps getting angrier and angrier, not only because Fushimi betrayed Homra but also he can’t believe how Saruhiko could leave him, when they were best friends (and when Yata was just coming to terms with the fact that he wanted Fushimi to be more than that). Fushimi calls Yata an idiot for thinking he was anything more to Fushimi than just an idiot hanger on, Yata feels this stinging at his eyes as he grabs the ring off his finger and throws it away, calling Fushimi an asshole and saying that he’s going to kick Fushimi’s ass for this. Later Fushimi’s back at Scepter 4 and he finds himself thinking that the ring’s been lost and telling himself that it doesn’t matter, it was stupid of him to give it to Yata anyway.

Then post-ROK say the two of them are starting to reconcile and they decide to move back in together. Fushimi’s all awkward about it still, like he’s really happy and wants to be with Yata again but he also remembers how he destroyed everything last time and he isn’t entirely convinced that he won’t do it again no matter how many times Yata says they won’t break. Yata’s reassuring him that everything’s going to work out this time as he helps Fushimi bring in all his things, moving these heavy boxes and wondering why Fushimi has so many damn knives. Yata wipes some sweat off his forehead and then takes his sweatshirt off because this is hot work, he’s standing there in just a tank top and Fushimi can see clearly the ring hanging around his neck. Fushimi stiffens a little, staring at it immediately, and Yata follows his gaze and gets a little red as he murmurs that yeah, he went back and picked it up later. Fushimi looks at him with sincere confusion and asks why, after all he did why would Yata even want the ring. Yata gets this soft smile as he says that yeah he was mad then but no matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t really hate Fushimi, and he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe one day he could wear Fushimi’s ring on his finger again for everyone to see.

#sarumi #Talking K #so cute but also so angst #Yata throwing the ring away but he goes back for it later #like he can't bring himself to lose it #not the precious gift Fushimi gave him #oh oh and he's bought Fushimi a ring and when Fushimi finds that Yata's still been holding onto his ring #Yata pulls out the one he bought and slides it on Fushimi's finger *^*

[youngjusticeslut]

We’re Family

Fandom: Young Justice Links: FF.net // AO3 Characters:  Will Harper, Violet Harper, Lian Harper, Artemis Crock Ships: N/A Summary: Will thought he’d have years before having to deal with trouble at school. Imagine his surprise when he picked up the phone at work, only to be told that there’s a situation and he needed to come pick Violet up immediately. Rating: T Word Count: 2599 Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.

Will was going to have a very stern conversation with Artemis when she returned home today.

He had thought he’d have years before having to deal with trouble at school. With Lian’s parentage, trouble at school was to be expected. Imagine his surprise when he picked up the phone at work, only to hear Lucas Carr on the other line, saying that there had been an ‘incident’ and he should come pick Violet up. Violet’s presence in his house had been both a blessing and a headache mixed up in one; Lian loved Violet and he knew he was doing good by housing her, but providing for another person in an already-cramped home proved difficult on his stress levels.

Will did his best not to sulk as he left work early and started up his new SUV. He could only imagine the type of incident Violet had gotten into, what with her wide array of powers. When he’d offered up that Violet could take the Harper name, he hadn’t meant to be listed as her guardian. If anything, Artemis should have listed herself. He could imagine it now, her slick little smirk as she typed out his name on the school enrollment forms without his approval. It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed it as she did it. What had he been doing that night?

His stomach lurched and he felt the annoyingly familiar pull of sadness tug at his core. Right, he’d spoken to Jade that night. Now it made more sense.

Trying to pick up his spirits again, Will shifted his mind into coming up with the best way to get back at his sister-in-law. He could conveniently forget to purchase the shampoo she’d put on the grocery list this week. No, that wouldn’t work. Being a clone, he was rarely, if ever, forgetful. Leaving off her shampoo would ignite Artemis into conveniently forgetting Lian wasn’t supposed to have sugar before bed. Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t work out in his favor.

Will needed something quick and painless that wouldn’t lead her to retaliate. Then it hit him; he’d make zucchini lasagna for dinner tonight. Artemis loathed zucchini, but it was one of the few green things Lian would eat. So really, it was a win-win situation. The thought of his sister-in-law’s sour face perked him up significantly as he drove to the nearest zeta tube.

--

“Took you long enough,” Lucas greeted as he met Will at the front entrance of the high school.

“Sorry, I had to leave work.” Will tried not to let his annoyance seep into his voice. Judging by Carr’s unimpressed look, he’d failed. “You do know I’m not actually her guardian, right? Was M’gann not able to take her home?”

“She’s not in today.” The brunette waved goodbye as one of his faculty members left the building. “I didn’t have anyone else to call, and you’re the one listed on the forms.”

Will sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Right. Of course.”

“Try to be a little more sympathetic. She’s still shaken.”

“Shaken?” Will raised a brow. “Did she lose control of her powers or something? I thought she was getting better at it.”

Lucas paused outside his office, visibly exhaling before turning back to face Will. “Right. I didn’t mention it on the phone,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Being a principal is exhausting.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Lucas, what happened?”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. I don’t know how to put this, Will,” Lucas began. “She got attacked in the hallway in between classes. A boy decided to snatch off her hijab.”

Any annoyance Will had felt at coming to pick up Violet immediately dissipated once Lucas spoke. Rage came first, bubbling in his core as his jaw clenched. “Tell me you’ve expelled him.”

“Suspended. It was his first offense, my hands were tied.”

“That’s bullshit,” Will snapped. “He attacked her. Pulling off her hijab is considered a hate crime, does that not count for anything?”

“It does, which is why he’s been suspended for three weeks. He’ll also have to write a ten thousand word paper about Islam and why what he did was wrong.” Lucas paused, grinning to himself. “I came up with that part.”

If looks could injure, the glare Will gave Lucas would have sent him withering on the floor. “Congratulations.”

Lucas waved him off. “Look, he’s been taken care of. I think she’s going to be fine, she’s just visibly distressed. He tore her scarf-”

“Hijab.”

“Right, hijab. He tore it and she said she wanted to go home. So I called you.”

Will glanced into the office through the window. Violet’s back was to them, her shoulders slumped in defeat. His anger slowly receded, and he nodded. “I’ll take her home.”

“I’ll give you both some space.”

The former archer nodded and rested his hand on the doorknob, taking a second to compose himself before he turned it and stepped inside. Violet jumped at the sound and turned towards it, but relaxed when she saw Will, her brow furrowing in confusion as she averted her gaze. “Surprised?” Will asked, closing the door behind him.

“I was expecting Artemis,” Violet admitted, tucking some of her dark waves behind her ear.

“Yeah, Artemis would probably be more helpful right now,” Will agreed, trying to keep from looking at her hair. From what he’d gathered from internet research and living with Violet thus far, he shouldn’t be looking at her when her hair was uncovered. She didn’t offer a response, and through his peripheral vision he saw her exhale and wipe her eyes.

It occurred to him that for once, he didn’t know what to do. Will was good at comforting Lian, she was easy. He’d even learned how to comfort Artemis. Physical touch and words of reassurance worked wonders on them both. But Will couldn’t touch Violet, and he wasn’t sure what he could say to her to make this better. The girl before him seemed so lost, so out of her element, and as her technical guardian he should be able to help her.

“I’ll be right back,” he excused, leaving the room.

No sooner was he out of the office did he find Lucas and pull him aside. “You got a school store here?”

Confusion splayed across the older man’s face. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“She can’t walk outside without something covering her hair. I’m gonna buy her a hoodie or something.”

“No need, I’ll get one for you. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that,” Lucas muttered as he walked away.

Ten minutes later, Will presented the ‘Happy Harbor High’ hoodie to Violet. “You can wear this until we get home, okay?”

Violet took the hoodie in her hands, her wide brown eyes growing bigger. “I wear this?” she asked, unfolding the sweatshirt.

“Yeah. It has a hood so you can cover your hair,” he explained. “I’ll go outside, just come out when you’re ready to go.”

--

Violet didn’t say a word the entire way back. Not on the walk to the zeta, not on the drive back home, not even once they’d stepped through the front door. As soon as they were inside, she retreated with Brucely to the backyard and sat idly on the tire swing, lost in her own little world. Will was no expert on women, but given that at one point he’d lived with three females, he thought it best to give her a little bit of space.

It was rare that he was home so early on a weekday, so Will took the opportunity to straighten up around the house. He’d been meaning to reorganize Lian’s room, get rid of some of the clothes she’d grown out of. Iris might appreciate it if he gifted her Lian’s hand me downs. In truth he’d gotten some of the clothes from Lynn, so it felt good to pass on the favor. Really, he didn’t know what he would do without all the support from the parenting group.

“Will?” He looked up from where he’d put the last tiny dress in a box. Violet stood in the doorway, rubbing her arm.

“Hey Violet,” he said quietly, straightening up. “How are you feeling?”

“Not better,” she replied. “Can I help you?”

Will closed up the box and picked it up before he stood. “No, I’m good here, wasn’t much to give away. But I was about to start on dinner, you could help with that,” he offered.

The look of relief on Violet’s face was enough to convince him that he’d finally said the right thing.

He put her to work peeling the zucchini for the lasagna while he made the sauce. Will savored the rare chance to cook dinner for his family, given what little time he had. Usually they ordered takeout, or Artemis whipped up something quick if she had the time. It was unfortunate because he loved to cook, and Lian usually ate more when he did.

“What are we making?” Violet asked.

Will wiped his hands on his trousers before going to stir the tomato sauce on the stove. “Lasagna. Well… sort of lasagna.”

“Lasagna,” she repeated. “It smells good.”

“Good. Lian loves lasagna, you know,” he noted with a small grin. “It’s hilarious, because she can’t even say it. She’s a smart kid, but there’s a few words she just refuses to get. So instead she calls it ‘pasta cake’.”

Violet smiled, continuing to peel the zucchini into thin strips. “She is a good sister.”

“Sister?”

“Oh, I…” she trailed off, flushing pink. “I told her I was Violet Harper now. She said that now we were sisters.” Will smiled, shaking his head. That was Lian alright. “I am sorry, I should have asked.”

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

“I am also sorry for today.” Violet placed the last strip of zucchini in a bowl, crossing her arms in front of her stomach. “I am sorry for being in your home. For being so much trouble.” “Violet-”

“I am trouble. Always trouble,” she muttered, huffing out a deep sigh.

Will set the burner to low, leaning back against the counter and trying to figure out the right thing to say. In a way, she was right. Not that he’d ever say it out loud. Or, well, to her face. He’d like to think that he’d become a slightly more decent person over the years. “You’re not trouble,” he finally said. Even if it wasn’t completely truthful, he knew it was the right thing to say.

Violet’s forehead crinkled. “Not trouble?”

“No. You’re family.” That much was true. She was a Harper now, and just like the rest of the Harpers, they needed to stick together and support each other despite the bad.

“So I have two families now,” she said, finally smiling. “Can I tell Lian? And Artemis?”

“Uh, yeah. Go for it,” he said with a snort. For a brief second, Will wondered what Jade would have thought of this odd girl. Probably wouldn’t have taken to her too kindly. But Jade wasn’t here anymore.

They worked in silence for a little while, assembling together the lasagna. The more time he spent with Violet, the more she grew on him. She wasn’t so bad, really. Just quirky. It was kind of sweet how excited she got at the prospect of finishing the lasagna, almost as excited as Lian got. He was starting to see why Artemis cared for her so much.

Once the lasagna was in the oven, he poured himself a glass of water and handed one to Violet. “You know, you can talk to me. About today, or anything really.”

Violet softened stretching out her fingers. “I do not know… what I did wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“The boy. I was just walking with Forager, I mean, Fred Bugg, and then he just started to yell, and nothing made sense,” Violet said quickly. “People used to talk to Gabrielle like that.”

“Gabrielle?”

“Yes. I am not Gabrielle anymore, Gabrielle was not liked. Not like Violet.”

Will was trying to connect the dots in his head. Artemis had told him some about Violet’s situation, but clearly not everything. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “People can be cruel.”

“But why? I did not do anything to him. He would not even let me speak, and then he…” Violet lowered her eyes, touching her hijab. “Is it bad?” “No.” Will didn’t even have to think about it. “That boy is an idiot. You didn’t do anything wrong, Violet. That much I can promise you.”

“Are you sure.”

“Couldn’t be more sure. The lasagna’s going to take a while, why don’t you take Brucely for a walk and pick up some ice cream from the store a couple blocks away? You remember where it is, right?”

“Yes, the ice cream store,” Violet agreed with a nod. “Artemis has taken me there many times. Can I get chocolate?”

“Yeah,” Will said, pulling out his wallet and handing her a few bills. “And get strawberry for Lian.”

--

“Pasta cake, pasta cake!” Lian cheered, bouncing up and down in her booster seat as Will cut up the lasagna.

“That’s right, Baby Girl. Violet helped make it.”

Lian’s eyes went wide as she stared at the Quraci woman. “Vi help?”

“Yes, it was very fun,” Violet said, smiling at Lian.

Artemis nodded in approval, finishing to set the table before sitting down. “Look at you, Will. Finally teaching Violet a thing or two in the kitchen.”

“Better me than you. All you could teach her is how to make dry chicken.”

The blonde narrowed her eyes, shooting him a dangerous look. “I’ll remember that next time you need someone to pick Lian up early from daycare.”

“I’m sure,” Will said, smirking to himself as he set Lian’s plate in front of her. She cheered and he kissed her head, hoping she’d settle down enough to eat.

Once they were all seated, Artemis tore off a piece of garlic bread and waved it at Violet. “So how was school today?”

Will and Violet exchanged a look. “School was good. Fred Bugg and I learned about something called a mitochondria.”

“It’s the powerhouse of the cell, you know,” Will pointed out.

“Please, for the love of God, stop talking,” Artemis groaned. “How’s the pasta cake, Li?”

“Nummy,” the toddler agreed, scooping up another mouthful.

“Speaking of school, did you know that I was listed as Violet’s guardian?”

Artemis looked away, instead cutting herself a piece of the lasagna. Violet had covered the zucchini with enough cheese and sauce that Artemis hadn’t yet noticed anything off about it. “Interesting.”

“Quite.”

“Yes, we are family now,” Violet said, grinning at Lian who had tomato sauce smeared all over her face. Artemis glanced at Will, who just grinned and raised his glass to her. She hummed in response before taking a bite of the lasagna, stopping mid-chew.

“Something wrong?” Will asked, trying not to smirk. Lian immediately lifted her head, stopping to eat and staring at her aunt. She’d gotten into the habit of refusing to eat anything that her aunt didn’t like.

“Not nummy?” she asked worriedly.

Artemis shot a glare at her brother in law before swallowing and looking to Lian. “Very nummy. Daddy sure knows how to cook.”

“You better believe he does. Make sure you set a good example and finish your plate, otherwise you won’t get any dessert.”

“You’re such a di-”

Will shushed her, lifting his hand. “Ah, ah. Language. We have children at the table.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

#young justice #will harper #violet harper #halo #lian harper #artemis crock

[joanmarkov]

hey there everyone!! i’m zoe ( she / her, 20 & cst ) and i’m playing joan markov, eighteen year old daughter of of nike. she’s got a playlist and a pinterest  ---  as well as some general info under the cut. please feel free to hmu here or on discord if you want to plot!! 

joan never had much a need to think about greek mythology; she had friends growing up who were obsessed with the ancient histories, who devoured tales of greek monsters or roman legions or egyptian pharaohs and norse heroes  ---  but joan simply never had time for stuff like that. she’d been raised a loose mix orthodox catholic and roman catholic, due to being raised by her grandparents, but neither were first generation immigrants themselves; they never pushed the faith on joan. she had vague notions of a christian god and too much on her own plate to bother thinking of others. had she, it wouldn’t have been a leap to picture nike as the mother who’d left her on her father’s doorstep, a few weeks before the rising major league baseball star saw his shoulder ruined forever and his future deemed over before it began. he ran away from his failures and his daughter both, leaving them at his parents doorstep before rushing out east, good riddance. joan didn’t even see birthday cards from him ‘til she was seven, and that was fine. by seven she was already deeply in love with gymnastics, and a few years after that saw her tearing up track and cross country both. she was a phenom with enough energy that she felt like she had to burn the candle at both ends. she didn’t know what she’d do, otherwise. her grandparents wondered if it’d be a problem with her school, this excess of movement, but with how easily joan honed it on her own they didn’t question it too hard. all her winning felt incidental. she loved the harmony she found in her body when she was lost in the physical pleasure of pushing her limits, become better and better until she was the best, and only had herself to beat. when the judges’ have eyes only for her, when the finish line is the only thing in sight, she felt unstoppable. though joan’s father had turned tail and run years ago, she saw a lot of his sister and her husband and their kids, always coming by her grandparents’ and to joan’s meets. she never felt like she was missing much, with her father only a vague shadow on the edge of her life. she knew what was wrong with him  ---  it didn’t leave much room for her to question the whereabouts of her mother. when she was fifteen, she started to do really well in cross country. she was winning an award or medal at nearly every meet, and it came to a head after three wins in a row; her and her team were staying overnight in some small town in-between the meet and home,  and joan and the three girls she was rooming with were heading out to grab dinner with some people from the boys’ cross country team. they were outside a waffle house when joan suddenly found herself faced with  ...  well, a monster. she threw the medal still around her neck at the things eyes, aimed a sweeping high-vault kick for its chest, and ran back inside to hide out. it was a waffle house, so no one inside seemed fazed, but joan couldn’t shake the encounter. nor could she shake the sudden influx of other monstrous creatures lurking at the edge of her vision. they were outside her gym when saturday gymnastics practice wrapped, waiting in the woods behind the newest cross country route, seen running alongside the bus to team meets or her grandpa’s car when he was driving her to a competition. she tried, but she couldn’t outrun them, not really. a student teacher saw her trying to throw her change of clothes at them before practice, one day, and then joan had answers she’d never asked for. sure, it explained things. but joan thought she was better off not knowing.

once she knew, she knew. apparently, this changed things for joan’s mother, who had been hoping she could stave off her daughter finding out her true parentage for a little longer  ---  forever, if she had things her way. a few weeks after that student teacher helped joan decapitate a monster with a sword they’d pulled out of nowhere, joan swore, she had the most awful dream and a face to put with the idea of her mother. it was nice, for all of five minutes. and then it wasn’t anymore. joan had never wondered or worried about her mother so this payoff was not worth what it cost her. suddenly this woman was speaking to her, voice a familiar combination of tough, and proud, and sad, that she’d only heard in coaches before. the things she was saying with it weren’t at all what she’d have expected from her mom should she ever find the woman. apparently, joan had been intended as a gift to her father, and him running off after ruining his winning-career to boot was an insult to the highest degree for a goddess of victory. nike hung her head and held out her hands like there was nothing she could do. but there was a fierce glint to her eyes; and joan wondered when she woke if her mother had wanted to do anything else, or if it was just something to say to weaken the bite of a rule she’d created herself. one minute, joan was the most shining star anyone in her town had ever seen. and the next her own mother was placing a dream-curse on her  ---  as goddess mandated penance for the sins of her father, joan would be a child of victory who would win no more. it had pretty instantanous results. she was falling off the beam, sliding across the mat, leading face first into the uneven bars. she’d run a few minutes and find her feet so bloody and bruised it hurt to stand; she’d try to power through and find everything in her path working to trip her. she even sucked at her meager monster fighting attempts; her thrown objects missed by a mile and any hand to hand combat was a joke. it was hard to even buy time to run the other way. it was hard to even stay on her teams, never mind lead them. another dream gave her the path to a place for people like her  ---  confirmation with the student teacher told her it was real, and worth a shot. she was no longer an assured champion and was liable to get herself killed in her current state. monsters no longer looked at her as a formidable opponent, and with that went her last shred of protection. she told her grandparents and was relieved that the old catholics took the news so easily. it wasn’t hard for them to imagine their son messing up his daughter’s life so severely without even being present; it wasn’t hard for them to assign heavenly blame to all the changes in joan. they loved her, and they’d talk when they could, but the three of them agreed camp half blood was the best course of action for her. a month after she turned fifteen, she packed up a beat up suitcase filled with old running shorts and worn out shoes, sweatshirts and t-shirts bearing the logos of meets and competitions, all the things she felt like a liar wearing, and followed the poetic path her father had laid for her straight to new york. she kind of hates her mom for not trying harder. it seemed like such a bullheaded, sore-loser thing to do  ---  surely the goddess could tell that joan was as far from her father as she could get? joan had lost some, sure, had injuries that laid her up for a few weeks and seemed frightening. she’d still loved her family during those scares. she’d never run away. joan never deserved the curse now resting on her shoulders. and yet, her mother seemed to have taken some pleasure in the act of revenge. someone should have told her that joan’s father would have been pleased to see his daughter’s every victory snatched from her, too.

when joan first arrived at camp, she’d have been the first to admit she was a little pissed off at the world. before finding out what she was, who her mother was  ...  how much of a raging bitch her mother was  ...  joan had been pretty level-headed, pretty calm. she was still as excitable as ever, prone to bursts of energy she needed to act on then and there, but she’d always been driven by tasks more than anything, and powered by passion above all. she loved her body, the things it could do, the records she could break. she loved her family; her aunt and uncle, her cousins, her grandparents. for being there when her father wasn’t and looking after her so much she scarcely minded his stubborn absence.   she was a force to be reckoned with, sure, but more a mountain than a tidal wave  ---  stable and ancient over wild and vicious. the camp never saw a mountain in joan markov. when she arrived, fifteen and angry, fifteen and furious, lost and broken and ruined, she was ready to fight anything that stepped foot in her path. this seemed decent questing energy for a girl with something to prove  ...  until the realization of her curse fell across the camp like the best piece of gossip in months. joan could try and try and try and still find failure waiting for her. she trained for hours with a sword and could only land a hit one out of every ten attempts. she did fine on a punching bag, but give her a person and it was like her fists slid right off their skin. she was part of the home-front when disaster and tragedy swept the world of half-bloods and monsters she was suddenly faced with. she hated that she was sidelined because of her father’s cowardice, hated her mother even more for not knowing the man well enough to see that this curse did nothing to him, nothing at all. it felt cruel to live among heroes when she was just the tossed aside daughter of victory destined to lose forever, or until something more powerful and more benevolent than her mother stepped in and fixed her. clearly, she was broken without either of her passions to guide her, when she was so ruined she couldn’t find anything else to fill her time and take her energy. joan was as task driven as ever, but now that she knew she was destined to lose at any task she tried, she had no need to play it cool or calm. she turned herself into a wildcard, filled with passion and surging strength and no permanent outlet. let her quite strength fall away,  replaced by defensively sharp wit and challenge laced in every word, futile though she knew those challenges were.   she was decent at constructing battle strategies, for she still knew how to win  --- she was just incapable, literally, of doing it herself. she helped others with their quests and went on one minor one herself, as the brains only, when in the years before she’d known she would have been the star. it was fine. she was fine, with things. after all, it was fine for a fifteen year old to rage at the world and search for a cure that would never come. but joan was grown now, as useless as ever, and that was  ---  fine. in any case, she turned herself into the sort of person no one ever thought to question. even if she knew she could never win again, there was no reason people had to see that in the slope of her shoulders or the jut of her chin. since she’d long lost any invincibility she’d had in battle, she’d have it in spades standing still.

#( ⁎∴◦ ⊱ ━━ you were born a dreamer┊intro. ) #( ⁎∴◦ ⊱ ━━ there are secrets in the water┊hc. ) #fleece.intros

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

What will demon!Harry and angel y/n be doing this Valentine's day night ;)

ANDREA!!!!! WHAT WOULD DEMON!HARRY AND ANGEL!Y/N BE DOING ON VALENTINES DAY??

Hey Andrea! What would demon Harry and angel (y/n) do for Valentine’s Day?

So Harry would probably be a little stumped on what to do since it’s been such a long time since he celebrated Valentine’s Day.

For his last Valentine’s Day, he’d courted a girl he’d known since childhood named Rosie by letting her pick three of her favorite animals from his family’s livestock to have as her own. He’s pretty sure that giving Y/N a couple of healthy pigs wouldn’t really suffice as a modern act of affection.

So Harry decides to be the cheesy, cliche lameass from the movies that he so hates and picks up his phone, making a reservation at one of the most elegant restaurants in the city and he goes out and gets a custom tailored suit for the night, also buying Y/N an outfit that’s similar to his in pattern and color scheme.

If they’re doing the cliche date, he doesn’t want to do a cliche dress, too, so he gets her a pretty jumpsuit made of blood-red material with cherry blossoms embroidered into the expensive fabric. Heels are out of the question because she’s never owned a single pair and he really doesn’t want the night to end with her in a hospital bed at the ER. Not when it could be his bed instead.

A pretty pair of black flats will do, the dark, glossy surface of the shoes dusted with glitter and he thinks she’ll definitely like that detail.

Harry gets home from shopping, somewhat struggling to enter through the door with the two outfits covered in a plastic sheath to protect them from the weather. Y/N is slumming it on the couch watching Cupcake Wars, clad in her big, oversized bunny pajama pants and a large Friends sweatshirt, stuffing her face with a box of fancy assorted chocolates he’d gotten her from that little Godiva shop down the street, not noticing that she’s given Chandler a coconut-shavings mustache.

“Up.” His voice quips, her head whipping back in alarm at the sudden authority in his tone.

Harry can’t help the endeared grin that wrestles his cheeks as he eyes her own, which are puffed out with Lucifer-knows how many pieces of candy. “I said up, sweetheart. We’re going out for Valentine’s Day.”

Getting her to shower is a task worthy of an Olympic medal. Y/N refuses to at first, not wanting to leave the house, having too much of a ball being a lazy sack on the sofa cushions. The succession of events that finally gets her to abide goes as so.

Harry says that he’s taking her to a nice restaurant so that they can spend some quality time together. Y/N whines and kicks like a child, shaking her head as she pops another strawberry- and nougat-filled bonbon into her already overflowing mouth. Harry sighs grandly and drops their clothes on the dining table, walking over to stand in front of the TV, blocking her view of the contestants presenting their Valentine-themed pastries. He crosses his arms over his large, broad chest, tilting his head to the side and giving her a stern look.

“I’m going to count to three and if your cute little ass isn’t up and on the way to the bathroom by the time I get there, I’m going to pull down my pants, underwear and all.”

This gets her going. He hasn’t even reached two when she’s already stumbling toward the shower, the leftover candies flying all over the couch and carpet. He calls after her, saying that if they shower together they’ll be cutting time out of the process, but he only says it to fluster her. It’s fun.

After they’re both washed up and dapper in their matching outfits (Y/N had taken a strong liking to her’s and she thought it was absolutely adorable that they were twinning), Harry doesn’t even notice the soft, fond smile that twitches his lips upwards as he watches her add the finishing touches to her hair.

“You look so handsome.” Y/N wraps her arms around his torso from behind as he’s finishing buttoning up his tuxedo jacket, smoothing his large, ring-clad hands down the front and grinning at her through their reflection, looking down at his designer dress shoes to try and hide the blush that’s stinging his cheeks raspberry red.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” She pushes herself up onto her tiptoes, kissing at the back of his neck and at the tips of his tiny ears. “You’re so pretty, Harry.”

“Mm.” He turns to face her, hands perching on her hips as he brushes the tip of his cold nose along her warm cheeks. “Say it again. Love it when you talk dirty to me.”

This earns him a bonk upside the head to which he responds to with a wheezy cackle.

During the car ride to the restaurant, Y/N still seems to be a little pouty about being dragged out of the house so Harry reaches over, intertwining their fingers and bringing her knuckles up to his warm mouth, sponging his lips across the dips between each one. “I’ll get you whatever dessert you want, don’t worry.”

Everything is going fine until they get to the restaurant, where it appears that they don’t have the record of Harry’s reservation. Y/N stands off to the side a bit as he argues with the host, messing with the ends of her hair nervously as she watches the vein in Harry’s neck chisel deeper and deeper across his throat.

She finally steps forward, wriggling her hand into the curve of his elbow and tugging him gently, her voice soft with growing fear. “H-Harry, it’s okay. We can go somewhere else.”

Harry throws a glance over his shoulder at her and his eyes go completely black for a millisecond. “No, I’m not fucking leaving! I made this reservation about a week ago. This is absolutely ridiculous!”

“Harry—“

But he’s already turned back to the man at the front desk, who looks just as scared as she’s feeling. “You would think they’d have a decent computer system here considering they charge almost a hundred dollars for a plate the size of a coaster!”

“Harry, please.” Y/N puts as much emotion into the small phrase as possible, squeezing his bicep weakly and praying that he backs down.

Harry turns on her now, his head whipping back with his eyes ablaze with annoyed rage. “Y/N, don’t you see I’m trying to—“

Something he sees causes him to stop mid-sentence, his harsh words crawling back into his mouth and dive-bombing into the pit of his stomach.

The corners of Y/N’s eyes have tinted a faint bright red, her irises glossing over more than usual, looking watery. There’s a few ridges between her brows and the edges of her cherry-stained lips are tilting down into a scared grimace. Her expression comes together to show fear and concern.

This causes Harry’s own eyes to soften, body loosening up at seeing how his behavior is affecting her. The frigidness in his shoulders melts away, giving into her touch as he takes a step back from the fancy marble desk in a ceasefire. “Okay…Yeah, okay, we can go, darling. I’m…I’m sorry for causing a scene.”

When they’re back in the car, Harry slumps into the driver’s seat, wishing he could disappear into its cushions. He’d almost ruined the whole night.

He turns to Y/N, who is carefully putting on her seatbelt, and reaches over to cup her face in his palm. She cradles her jaw into his hand, glancing up and giving him a small, timid smile.

“I’m sorry for being a prick and almost trashing today.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs one shoulder lightly, taking his big hand in both of her’s and pressing her lips against the back of it. “Knew you just wanted to give me a special night.”

Harry’s lips shift into a tiny crooked smile, his fingers closing around her’s. “I just wanted to make it memorable. Went with the whole cliche, as much as I think it’s shit. Did it for you, though, so it’s worth giving up my dignity.”

Y/N releases a small giggle, shaking her head in endeared amusement, her voice sarcastic. “My hero.”

Harry crinkles his nose in faux disgust, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t think so. Capes aren’t my thing. And being the good guy.” Harry’s eyes flit black. “Definitely not my thing.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, squeezing his hand lovingly and blinking at him with so much care that he wishes he could bottle up this moment and store it in his chest to replace his heart. She just looks so beautiful with her hair all dolled up, her lips the color of red wine, her feet tucked towards each other shyly in the dainty sparkly flats, and his ruby ring hanging from a delicate chain around her neck. He wishes he could stare at her until Hell freezes over.

“Honestly, Harry…” Y/N’s soft voice breaks him from his trance, his black heart hiccuping in his chest as she looks up at him bashfully from under her thick lashes. “I don’t need a fancy dinner or handmade chocolates or,” she tugs lightly at the material of the elegant jumpsuit that pools around her thighs, “a ridiculously overpriced—yet insanely beautiful— pantsuit. I just need you, your soft hair, your pretty eyes, your plush lips, and your warm hands around me. That’s all I could ever want from today. Just you.”

Harry’s cried very few times in the last couple of centuries and right now counts as one of them. The tears don’t actually come out, but they gather at his waterline and at the inner ducts of his eyes before he blinks them away and sniffles back his emotions. He gifts his girl an airy laugh, licking his chapped lips slowly and blinking at her with so much adoration it hurts. “Alright, then. How about…How about we go to the movies? Heard that actor you like has a new one out. Chris Brat?”

“Oh, hush!” Y/N shoves him over with a loose fist as both of their giddy laughter bounces off the walls of the car. “Pratt. He’s so cute.”

Harry reaches forward and turns on the ignition, the car purring to life as he shrugs his eyebrows carelessly and gives her a cautionary snort. “Chris Probably-Should-Watch-Yourself-Or-No-More-Neck-Kisses.”

Y/N releases his hand so that it falls limply into her lap, where he squeezes her thigh jestingly. She raises her palms upwards in a sign of surrender. “Not a peep more from me.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, what do you think they’ll say when we show up looking like we’re headed for the Met Gala?”

#drabble #demon!harry

[killingthebuddha]

The Long Island Expressway is packed with pill-addled truckers and texting motorists. Uncle Oatmeal wants a cigarette, but he’s too afraid to take his eyes off the road to light it. Anyway Uncle Oatmeal doesn’t smoke in the car. It’s a two-year-old BMW sedan and he doesn’t want to ruin the appealing smell of leather. There is also the persistent notion that the car isn’t really his, that one day soon he’ll have to return it to its former owner, who hated cigarettes. Uncle Oatmeal has a similar attitude towards the money, an absurd sum that appeared in his bank account after the Event. It’s more money than any one human being could ever need. Still, Uncle Oatmeal lives modestly. Against all logic, he expects that one day he’ll have to prove that he’s been responsible with it.

Off the Expressway, Uncle Oatmeal exhales, releases the steering wheel at a red light to wipe the sweat from his brow. Now steering the car down suburban streets, the houses bloated steroidal ranches and colonials. He passes a long cinderblock school painted a nauseating beige, an equally revolting strip mall—reminders of an interminable childhood. The sky is overcast; the dashboard indicates that the temperature is 53°F. He turns into a particular driveway that leads to a house with multiple gables. He cuts the engine and takes a pill bottle from the glove compartment and swallows a Xanax, bitter as gunpowder.

The front door is unlocked. He has reminded them many times to keep it locked—he fears a burglary or home invasion—but nobody listens to Uncle Oatmeal.

“Hello,” he says, into the echoing silence of the foyer.

He says it again, louder, and the niece appears at the top of the stairs. Uncle Oatmeal is as usual astonished by the almost unbearable sweetness of her presence. A lanky nine-year-old in her softball uniform, sandy curls framing her face. Uncle Oatmeal feels the need—the compulsion—to protect her, to not let her out of his sight until she is forty.

“Hi,” she says, either genuinely glad to see him or very good at pretending to be.

“It’s supposed to rain,” he says. “Bring your windbreaker. I’ll be in the car.”

“Wait,” he hears from the direction of the kitchen, and Uncle Oatmeal feels his stomach contract. It’s blunted by the Xanax, but nevertheless there is a twinge of anticipatory stress, because it’s the sister-in-law, who will want to talk, because she always wants to talk. She has been talking for as long as he has known her, he supposes because it is how she proclaims her right to exist. It never used to bother him much, but now it is problematic, since her great obsession has become the Event.

The sister-in-law has coffee for him in the kitchen. Poker-faced, he joins her, noting her jeans and fitted t-shirt. Her hair has been washed and combed and pulled back into a girlish ponytail. She is in fact a few years older than Uncle Oatmeal but today she looks fresh and, he can acknowledge in a kind of clinical way, attractive.

“Have you eaten?” she asks.

Without waiting for an answer she fixes a bowl of instant oatmeal. She keeps it in the house especially for him. He’d mentioned once that he prefers the slow-cooked kind, but to remind the sister-in-law of this at such a late date would seem churlish. Then Uncle Oatmeal wonders why he cares if people think him churlish; in fact it’s the churls who seem much happier in general, much more themselves. Nevertheless he accepts the instant oatmeal, even feigns gratitude. The sister-in-law is already talking in her usual manner, that is, full paragraphs punctuated by brief inhalations. She talks about “footprints,” about “support groups,” about “compensation” (as if she needs any), about the latest perceived insult from some allegedly tactless bureaucrat. She sidetracks into the legal issues that have been forestalling her own sense of “closure”; but then she muses aloud that she’s lucky, in a way, because she had a body to bury. (Uncle Oatmeal winces, recalling when he read about the tiny lumps of flesh clinging to some poor bastard’s metatarsal.) There is much earnest talk of processing, of closure, as if the Event can be digested and described in pop-psychological terms, indeed that such terms are the only way it can be understood. Whereas Uncle Oatmeal believes that he now grasps the howling violent randomness of human life. And that all this talk of “closure” is the sound of people kidding themselves.

Spooning his late breakfast, Uncle Oatmeal is dizzy with rage. He wants to hurl the bowl at the wall. He wants to shout, You stupid bitch, death is the only closure.

“More coffee?” she asks.

“I’m good thanks.”

“What do you think about my idea?”

He has no idea what she is talking about.

“I know you’ll always do what’s best,” he says.

The sister-in-law nods, affirming the rightness of his statement. But then she turns down one side of her mouth, an indication that she is debating whether to say something or keep it to herself. Please, he silently pleads with her. Please keep it to yourself.

“I think you should come to the hearing,” she says.

He thinks: What hearing?

“Why should I go to a hearing?” he asks.

“Because your opinion matters. Because you need to get out of that apartment. I don’t know.”

Their eyes meet, and Uncle Oatmeal puzzles over her expression. It takes him a moment to realize that she is trying to convey that she is worried about him.

***

Uncle Oatmeal parks by the ball fields. The niece leaps from the car and runs to a knot of girls in teal uniforms. Her teammates’ parents along the third-base line, the coach and her assistant conferring over a clipboard with risible solemnity. The umpire, an overweight teenager, aligns home plate. Along the first-base line, girls in uniforms of forest green, with their own smattering of parents and portable furniture.

Uncle Oatmeal moves behind a tree to sneak a cigarette. Meanwhile his eyes sweep the field, looking for anyone or anything who might present a danger to his charge. Of course it’s unlikely that there’s a sniper in the woods or that the outfield has been mined. This is Long Island in the 2000s, not Sarajevo in the 90s. But it helps him feel better to check, so he checks.

When the game begins, Uncle Oatmeal stands alone to one side of the field, focusing one hundred percent of his attention on his niece at first base. A moderately fast grounder comes at her and she fields it cleanly, daintily toeing the bag for the out. Uncle Oatmeal applauds wildly, shouting encouragement. She responds with a smile and a shy shrug, then turns to stare down the next batter—a series of movements that reminds Uncle Oatmeal so strongly of her father that his eyes blur until he can tamp down the emotion.

“Think the rain will hold off?”

A father has sidled up. Uncle Oatmeal looks at the sky, which is steel-gray, with bluish, bruise-like splotches.

“Probably not.”

“Um, how’s she doing?”

“She’s okay. I think.”

“Yeah. You know. Kids are resilient.”

Uncle Oatmeal says nothing. The niece is the only child he knows.

“Well,” the man says. “If you need anything.”

“I could use a scotch,” says Uncle Oatmeal.

“Huh? Oh.” The man forces a laugh and sidles back to his wife.

***

When the rain comes it is merciless, an instant chilling downpour. The girls absurdly remain at their positions, blinking at each other, until the bovine umpire calls the game. Uncle Oatmeal retrieves the niece’s windbreaker from the dugout. In the car, he turns on the heat, pushes the dripping hair from his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t catch a cold, even though he knows that wet hair doesn’t cause colds, and anyway who cares what happens to him so long as the niece stays healthy. He starts the car. There is no denying the gratification he feels as the beautifully tuned engine growls, nor the subsequent slight shame at the knowledge that someone else paid for the car.

“We’re going?” the niece asks. “What if the rain clears?”

“You heard the ref, honey. That’s the game.”

He peels off his sweatshirt, dries his hands. You don’t want to drive with wet hands. As a matter of fact, the most dangerous driving surface is wet leaves. He’ll take it slow.

“We were winning,” she says.

“Yeah, but she called the game in the third. It wasn’t a full game.”

“So what? The team that’s in the lead should win when they call it.”

“Maybe,” says Uncle Oatmeal. He restrains himself from mentioning that she might not feel that way if her team was losing. Then, as she always does, the tension of competition gets the better of her and she cries. He holds her hand until she’s done.

***

At the pizza parlor, Uncle Oatmeal buys the niece a slice and a soda. There’s some sort of horrifying pop song playing, dense harmonies over an insistent robotic beat; Uncle Oatmeal finds it almost unbearable until he swallows another Xanax.

He makes sure to eat his own slice with his mouth closed, that no stray drops of grease or sauce smear his chin. In most respects, what he had said to the guy at the game is true, that she does seem okay. Except for her food issues, which have intensified. Before the Event she was merely a picky eater. Now certain things nauseate her to the point of vomiting—chewing noises, grease, mushy foods like scrambled eggs or mashed potatoes. Or oatmeal, for that matter. Her mother is not particularly troubled and neither are the various doctors and mental health professionals, who see it merely as a child exerting her autonomy through food.

Uncle Oatmeal isn’t so sure. He worries about her. Frankly, he’s worried enough for all of them. She’ll be ten in a few months, and he’d read that puberty for girls arrives earlier and earlier, and the American adolescent faces a harrowing spectrum of perils, and it’s worse for the girls, and the idea of the niece developing a full-blown eating disorder makes him weak with fear. He thinks: God save her from anorexia and bulimia. And while we’re on the subject, God save her from drugs and acne and low self-esteem and sexual promiscuity related to her lack of a viable father figure. God keep her off the pole. How about this: God save her from all the ways that life can go wrong, in addition to the disaster that has already befallen her.

The pop song is now bearable, thanks to the medication, but that doesn’t make it any more to his taste. And it’s noisy in the place, the couple at the next table bickering, a quartet of teenagers proclaiming their existence with chatter. Uncle Oatmeal watches the door, thinking of the terrorist who earlier that year had blown himself up in a Tel Aviv café, taking himself and four patrons into oblivion. Uncle Oatmeal is sweating and he wants a cigarette and a tumbler brimming with scotch, both of which are of course out of the question for the moment. He covers the remains of his slice with a napkin.

“So what are you thinking about?” he asks the niece.

“My dad always asked me that.”

“Well, I’m interested in you, like he was.”

“You’re not interested.”

“Of course I am,” he says, wounded.

“No, I mean I know that you are. But sometimes I think that you’re like, freaking out. That you want to know what I’m thinking about because you’re worried I’m thinking about bad things.”

Uncle Oatmeal blinks.

“Are you thinking about bad things?”

“Sometimes. But most of the time I’m not. Now can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you so worried all the time?”

“I guess I just want you to be happy.”

She chews on this for a moment.

“Are you happy?” she finally asks.

“Right now I am, because I like spending time with you. In general, though, no, I am not happy.”

The niece’s corner of her mouth goes down, like her mother’s.

“You need a girlfriend,” she says.

***

The rain is over but the pavement is still dully reflective in the damp. Uncle Oatmeal very carefully drives back to the house. The niece, a considerate girl, keeps quiet. She knows that he doesn’t like to talk while driving.

Driving 10 miles an hour below the speed limit, Uncle Oatmeal is thinking that the niece does in fact seem happy, or at least not unhappy. Uncle Oatmeal has seen her every Sunday without fail since the Event—nothing has kept him away, neither weather nor illness nor the vilest hangover. And lately, say, in the last few months, the niece seems to have turned a corner. Which is perhaps connected to the sister-in-law’s groomed appearance. They are a family unit, the two of them. The smallest possible one, but a family nonetheless. And as a family they are moving forward.

This is a good thing.

Isn’t it?

He parks behind the sister-in-law’s SUV. The niece unlatches her seat belt.

“I’ll be right there,” he says.

At this point Uncle Oatmeal is supposed to enter the house, perhaps have another coffee with the sister-in-law, and then depart. This is the ritual. But Uncle Oatmeal can’t seem to leave the car. He sits, smelling the leather interior of the car that someone else bought.

The rain starts again, pattering against the windshield. There is something attractive about the sound of it. He shuts off the engine, the better to discern the rhythm of the rain, the message that it may have for him. Or, more accurately, since he is not the sort of person to ascribe agency to natural phenomena, what he might learn from it. Something about the inevitable progression of time, moving us all toward the blank betrayal of healing. At least the lucky ones, he thinks with bitterness, reaching for a Xanax, longing for a drink.

#IFTTT #WordPress

[wastedwishesandhope]

- Wonderwall Pt. II

It's already past 4AM and yet the couple hasn't gone to bed till then. They basically spent each hour with just talking, laughing, sharing stories and conveying deep thoughts that practically tell how they trust each other now. 

They talk about stars, moon, winters & clouds. Talk about feelings, emotions, happiness & sadness. They talk about what life has to offer them. How each sun sets symbolizing another end and another memory to be kept. Another proof that endings can be beautiful too, and how each sun rises to give another determination and hopes that being brew.

Park Jimin stared at her eyes, listening to every word her lips formed. He listens to her with feelings, he stares at her with emotions fleeing. It is such a well spent time till daybreak, such a good memory how they talk under the stars, together with the cold breeze of winter.

He sees her beauty. Her worth. Her courage. Her determination. He sees everything what she don't.

She told him about her dreams, and he told her about his pains. 

She laughed with all his stories about being an idol, how painful it was to train like a normal human being, how stupid the BTS was, how happy he is for meeting them and how each day he spent together with them convert all the nightmares haunting him from the past. 

He shared secrets how Jeon Jungkook sleeping position is weird. How loud Kim Namjoon snorts. How Min Yoongi's rage stayed for 1 week. How Kim Seokjin's burnt bagel every morning despite being the only one who's experts in cooking. How Kim Taehyung put 'never tried before' instead 'male' for an application form question for their passport asking 'SEX'. How Jung Hoseok's actually an emotional constipated every night and how their manager almost sent a resignation paper to BigHit because he could no longer can handle them.

"You all such a pain in ass," Anna said laughing so much. A thick blanket was actually now wrapped on her body. A pair of hot coffee sat next to them. She could feel the winter shaking her bones and banging together. They stayed outside for almost 3hours already so Park Jimin insists Anna to bring out a blanket to keep herself warm and to prevent her from getting sick since its too cold already. To thank him, she brewed them a dark coffee so it'll make their night longer.

"Wouldn't you feel awkward that you had to call them 'Hyung' even though you're much older than them?" she asked out of curiosity.

He shook his head, "Nope, it feels good that I have someone to look at as 'Hyung'. I might be older than them than what they had imagined but still, the way they take care of me, they'd definitely justified their roles of being my hyungs. Just like how Seokjin always makes sure that we're getting enough rest. How Namjoonie gave us life advices even though I should be the one who's doing that. The way Yoongi acts like he's an unemotional guy but actually, he's always worried when one of the members came home late at night. They pretty much act like my guardians."

Anna was touched on how he express his sincerity towards them.

"Aside from you, BTS are the only people whom I trust the most in life. That's why sometimes I feel bad for keeping my real identity to them," he said and the sadness quickly showed on his face.

"They'll probably understand you. You're just doing that to protect them, right? To protect your group and the fans who have been considering you as their inspirations," she said trying to make him feel positive.

"For the hundred years of living in this world, I can definitely say that this generation is the best part in my life. I experienced so many things that I haven't experienced for the past years of my life. I met them who turns out not just my co- group members but as friends and family," he said while smiling at her then Park Jimin tuck her hair behind her ears, "And of course I met you... princess.." with that he leaned forward to smooch her forehead that made Anna to blush.

When he pulled away, Anna suddenly craved for something that's truly odd and unusual.

"Jimin.." she called him, the man looked at her.

"What?"

"I think I'm craving something,"

Park Jimin brows puckered in a frown when he read what's inside her mind at this late of night over the cold winter. A palm on his face answered Anna as he rests his elbows on his knees, palms on his face while staring at him with are-you-really-serious look.

"Tell me you're just mocking on me,"

Anna shook his head.

Park Jimin waited for her outside Kim's residence. He's wearing black hoodie sweatshirt with a big vertical 'Busy Doing Nothing' print, while his both hands tucked inside his pockets gray sweat pants. Anna excitedly closed the door behind her and run towards him with all smiles on her face. He watched her princess in her thick white hoodie jacket, pants and only a socks with pink slippers on her feet.

"Make sure you don't feel cold. I don't want to go back to Seoul with a sick girlfriend," he threatened her but she just all willingly nodded her head like a cute domestic dog obeying her owner.

They both walked across the street holding hands. They're quiet and yet the girl keeps playing her breath forming clouds in front of her face. She just loves winter when it comes to smoking mouth despite the diving temperature that dried her skin so much.

"I really love when all the streets are all silent." Jimin suddenly said.

She looked up at him, "Why?"

He took a deep breath then she watched his mouth releasing a fog out of his lips.

"It's just giving me the feeling of not being different, it feels like I am the only being in the world and that no one would judge me for being unusual," he said whilst smiling despite his eyes telling the opposite.

"Could we please stop talking about you being peculiar since it doesn't really matter to me," Anna said seemed pissed. She felt his hands tightened its grip on her hands and he looked over at her.

"I'm sorry,"

"The whole world might despise you, loathe unto you and hate you, but always remember, you still have me, I'd rather be your warrior than your princess just to protect you, Park Jimin," she said with the stern in her voice.

Park Jimin suddenly stopped walking to look at her in awe but his expression telling her completely that he's teasing her with what she said.

"Awe~ Did my Anna really said that? Wow, I suddenly feel scared!" he said while laughing, she hit him in his arms and walked away but he quickly followed her and pulled her arms while still laughing.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" he said trying his best not to burst into laugh. Anna glared at him so he just held her hand again. "I'm sorry again, I know it's a bad joke, okay? Let's just go there quietly, c'mon!" he still said but she didn't budge. "I'll piggy- back you? You want that? C'mon! You're cute when you're mad!"

She just scowled so he leaned down in front of her and yanked her hand down so she'll collapse on his back. She didn't say anything yet she wrapped her legs around his waist while her arms snaked around his neck. Park Jimin support her body by holding her legs tightly to make sure she won't fall. He grinned to himself when he felt she dug her face into the nape of his neck.

She watched her angel's side profile under a fall of hair. She smells his scent that intoxicates and alluding her in different levels. She tightened her arms around his neck. She wants this moment not to stop. She hopes someone would stop the time and would let them be stuck together, forever.

She wanted him in the bluntest way. She wanted his lips, his hands, his arms. She wanted him the way the ocean wants the shore, constantly reaching and running back. She wanted him the way rain wants to fall, the way the sun wants to shine, the way words wants to be read. She wanted him to infinity, to the millionth degree, no amount of rain could douse the fire she had for him.

They were in the convenient store. Anna actually wanted ice cream even though it was cold out.

"You still can't choose what flavour you want?" Jimin asked her while he's waiting for her still struggling staring at the different ice cream flavours lined up in front of her.

"Just give me more minute," she said hushing him up. Park Jimin just shook his head whilst still laughing.

"I can't believe how indecisive you are sometimes, princess," he said palms on his face again. "Why don't we just buy every flavour in the store?" he said and Anna looked at him laughing.

It was the kind of laugh he could listen for the rest of his life.

"You are silly!" she said and kissed him, pressed against him so he could feel how cold the tip of her nose was. 

The angel watched his princess again, in hoodie with hair so messy.

"Hey! Did you hear me?" she snapped a finger in front of his face so he would go back from his own reverie.

"Oh, sorry! I couldn't concentrate on the words you are saying. I was too busy getting lost in your eyes,"

Anna smiled up at him, Jimin felt his heart swell against the inside of his chest. 

And in that moment, he knew he loved her more than anyone else he had ever loved. In the moment he knew she were his once in a lifetime.

And yet all they were doing was looking for ice cream.

#JiAnna Jimin Anna