#But DAMN do they add a lot to your finished kit

[l-crimson-l]

And gunpla questions you receive! (Honestly, thank you so much for answering them, you're of a great help to a newbie that's me.)

So, I plan to finally get to partially painting my first gunpla tomorrow, and I also thought of doing a little weathering, but it's just a random thought for now — and so I got curious of what weathering techniques you prefer and for what reason.

Ok so I had to take some time to look up a couple popular ways to do this bc I’ve only weather one kit only half way and it was, of course, the lazy way.

So first I’ll tell you how I did it. It was one of the 86 kits (please reprint those Bandai) and I only weathered the off white parts. But what I ended up doing was using the black, grey and brown gundam pens (typically used for panel lining) and my thumb to first add color the edges and panel lines, then used my thumb to smooth out the color. Using the brown gave it a nice rain rusted look and the black and grey added a nice worn look. The kit is packed away at the moment but I posted pictures of it somewhere on my blog. Probably under 86 lol

Ok so now the more official Modeler Approved options.

First would be using the Tamiya Weathering set. There’s a couple different panels to choose from so definitely pick the ones that have the colors you need. 

Basically it goes like this: use the brush (either the one included or maybe better, a foam type brush) and dash along the edges. Build up as much or as little as you want (for example maybe you wanna lay it on thick if you’re doing like a mud drenched type look) and then topcoat! If you add too much you can always wipe some away with a little bit of water. IMPORTANT NOTE: this is powdered so WEAR A MASK or at the very least use this in a Well Ventilated Area. There’s a couple brushes sold online for these

But you can honestly use either a sponge or an old makeup brush.

(Pic at the bottom bc tunglr mobile sucks)

The second method is called Chipping. This is where you use paint and a Very Thin Fine Tip Brush to brush on small chip like strokes on the edges of the piece. Using a couple colors here adds depth and helps it look more realistic. Here’s one example I found online

Now something to note about this method is that it is certainly time consuming. From what I listened to, this particular method can certainly take a couple days to detail the whole kit depending on how much you do and how big the kit is.

IMPORTANT: if you choose this method be aware of the chemistry of your paint. If you have an enamel or acrylic paint base then don’t go and use lacquer paint for your detail work. It’ll eat those other paints.

I think you could always top coat your paint job before doing this to help preserve your paint? Maybe someone more experience can confirm that.

Third: Washes

This is pretty straight forward. Take your paint, thin it down and then wash it over the part with a brush. Depending on your paint you can use a qtip to help dab away any excess. This typically really works well on things like planes and ships but can be used for gunpla as well. You can use this for any kind of paint just once again Be Mindful About Your Paint Layers. You don’t want a top layer of paint eating through your base paint job.

Here’s a couple links to videos covering each one in more detail:

Tamiya Weathering Set

Chipping

Wash

I hope this helps! Again it’s not something I’ve dipped my toes into to any real depth but I’ll tell ya this: even my lazy arse way added WAY more character and weight to my kit

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

Miss Manager gets her Period

Team Japan x female reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: period talk, swearing, blood mentioned, period symptoms (cramps, vomiting, bloating, etc)

A/N: I need comfort right now, feel free to ignore

Honestly you should have seen the warning signs YN

But somehow you missed the notification from your period tracking app

You missed the sighs of being extremely tired, moody and just down right agitated

You cried for no reason the other day and it still didn’t register

I mean, it’s not like you are busy or anything

You are the team manager for Team Japan after all

Probably the one of the worlds most dangerous jobs

But also super rewarding 😌

You’ve been the teams manager for a few months now

And you’ve definitely had your period before during practice

But this, this was completely different

You see, never has your period fully started right in the middle of practice

And certainly not with this much vigor 😬

Let’s just say, you aren’t on birth control at all

But you also never really needed it

Because as shitty as birth control can be sometimes, it can be very helpful

Anyways, it was a normal Friday morning and you woke up feeling… off

Like just blah

Honestly you didn’t think much of it because the Olympics were a month away

Which meant that the boys were on edge

Practices were lasting hours and downtime was limited

Not to mention you were dealing with more Bokuto Emo modes than normal and more tantrums from Atsumu and Kageyama

Basically the fatigue and blah feeling wasn’t unwarranted

You checked the mirror, noticing you had a small acne flare up on your jaw

You sighed, putting some coverup on it before heading out

On your way to the gym, you stopped to grab you and the coaches coffee

A typically Friday routine you had developed

Walking into the gym, the sound of volleyballs hit your ears

As well as the agitating, grating voices of those hitting said volleyballs 😒

You barely hit the door when it starts

“YNS HERE!!” Hinata screams

“YN please tell me you finished the laundry yesterday, we ran out of fresh towels and I only have 5 stashed away!”Sakusa chimes in

“YN please help tape my fingers,” Hakuba adds

“YN you promised you’d measure our jump heights today too! I have to show Hinata that I can get higher!” Hoshiumi shouts

“YN do you have that extra nail files? I left my kit at home,” Kageyama says

“YN I need you to toss for me because these other idiots can’t do it like you do!” Atsumu whines

Literally it’s like walking into a daycare but with giant volleyball players 😅

“Guys give me like 5 minutes please!” You shout, walking over to the coaches and handing them their coffee before stomping to your office

“Is Yn ok?” Coach asks as the assistant coach shrugs

You just need a minute to breathe, that’s all you need

Too bad you work with people who don’t understand the idea of “needing a minute to breathe”

*knock knock*

You groan as your door open and Iwaizumi appears

Please, you don’t even want to see Iwa today

Damn YN you ok 👀

“Iwa what?” You say a little annoyed

“Damn, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? I just came to give you the training schedules,” Iwa said as you sighed and took them

“Sorry Iwa, I’m just feeling off I didn’t meant it,” you said as Iwa nodded

“It’s cool Yn but maybe drink that coffee or something to help?” He says as you sigh and sit down

You manage to drink approximately 1 sip before Aran is at your door

“YN hey! I was hoping we could go over some plays?” He said as you resigned yourself to the fact that today just isn’t your day

A few hours in, you get ready for the team meeting

Your walking through the gym when the first cramps hit

“Ohh ouch!” You whince as you grab your side

“YN, you good?” Komori asks, noticing immediately

“Yeah I think I’m fine,” you say

“You know Yn, when my tummy’s upset, I go to the brathroom and it helps a lot!” Hinata says as Kageyama rolls his eyes

“Hinata nobody knows more about the bathroom than you do!” He says as Hinata glares at him

“I’m sure I’m fine, it’s almost lunch anyways. I think I just need to eat,” you say

You grab your lunch, sitting with the few mature memebers of the team

The VERY FEW

Aran, Hyakuzawa, Iwaizumi, Komori, Yaku and occasionally Sakusa, if he’s not on one 🙄

Anyways, as your finishing lunch, you stand up and it happens

You rn 👉🏻🧍‍♀️😐😳

The fear in your eyes 😅 trust me YN, we’ve all been there

“Yn you good?” Aran asks as Iwa and Hyakuzawa look at you

“Umm I think my period just started,” you say

Now the fear in your eyes has transferred to their eyes 👁️👄👁️

Please Yn, nothing is off limits with these guys

They talk about bodily functions daily and some of them have sisters, so like they aren’t clueless to what a period is

Before they can even say anything you RUN to the bathroom, and sure enough

“Dammit!” You scream as everyone in a 20 mile radius hears you

“Uhhh Yn, you good?” Yaku asks, knocking on the door to the bathroom

“Yeah but uhh I don’t have a tampon, can you grab me one form my desk?” You asks as Bokuto runs to your office

At this point, they’ve all come to the bathroom hallway and it’s like a team effort to help you 😂

Team bonding if you will

“Crap there isn’t any in here!” Bokuto shouts as Atsumu runs to tell you

“Yn Bo said there isn’t any in your desk!”

“Shit, check my bag!” You scream

“Check her bag bo!” Hakuba shouts

“Nothing!” Bokuto shouts back

“Fuck!” You say, resigning yourself to the fact that you’ll definitely need to make a makeshift toilet paper pad

“YN do you want me to run to the corner store?” Hinata asks

“Would you please? I’m not really looking to make a toilet paper pad,” you said as Hinata nodded

“Wait what’s a ‘toilet paper pad’?” Atsumu asks

“YN send Hoshiumi a picture of the tampons you use and we will go!” Hinata shouts as Hoshiumi and him race out

“Is anyone gonna answer my question?” Atsumu says, annoyed

“Idiot she would have to shove toilet paper in her underwear to stop the bleeding until she got a tampon or pad!” Yaku says

“Omg this toilet paper is so course and had like zero absorbency!” Atsumu shouts

“I know Sumu!! That’s why that’s not ideal!” You say

“YN do you need pain relievers?” Iwa asks

“If you have some, the cramps are getting bad,” you say as Iwa runs to his office

He grabs a heating pack and some pain relievers

He comes back just as Hinata and Hoshiumi return

“Damn that was like 7 minutes impressive!” Komori says

Hinata and Hoshiumi 👉🏻💅💅

“Here Yn, we got them!” Hinata says passing the pads into the bathroom

You manage to get yourself sorted, leaving some pads in the bathroom as you exit

You come out of the bathroom and are greeted with a forest 🌳

“Uhh hey guys?” You say as Iwa hands you the heating pack and some pain relievers

“Are you ok YN?” Bokuto asks 🥺

You just laugh

“I’ll be fine guys, I deal with this every month but I’ll admit, I was a little surprised this time!” You said

“Ok well I think it’s time we get back to work,” Aran says

“I’m super hyped up right now!” Hinata says as him and Hoshiumi race back to the gym

“Is anyone surprised?” Iwa says

“I’m actually surprised they managed to handle the task of getting tampons for Yn,” Yaku interjects

“This isn’t Hinata’s first time dealing with this, he does have a little sister,” Kageyama added

“And Hoshi?” Hakuba says

“He probably just wanted to race Hinata,” you laugh

“Ok guys, let’s go! Yn go sit down and out that heating pad on!” Iwa orders

“Iwa I’m fine-” you argue

“YN I wouldn’t argue with Iwa if I were you,” Sakusa interjects

“Yeah he’s super scary when he gets mad!” Kageyama shivers

“WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!?” Iwa yells as you all stiffin

Aye aye captain 🫡

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

What is this?

Past =-= Next

Author's note: Next part of Catuis's story in Husbandry. Thanks to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric and Ash'val.

Summary: Catius is sent on errands and spots a Dangerous Person.

Warnings: let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Catius was humming to himself, it had been a few months since they'd found Jophiel and had taken him to the Imperial Fist and Salamander Base to get properly patched up. Of course, convincing a skittish, panicky, wounded, and paranoid Jophiel to go to a base filled with Elder Cousins that are First Born that he doesn't know was not easy, also being stalked by a Night Lord had been… not fun.

He was glad that they'd called Elder Apothecary Hura to deal with the fellow Chaos Marine, even though Cedric had to owe Hura a favor for the aid. Hura had called in the favor by requesting Cedric to help him with an incredibly skittish Loyalist Thousand Sons First Born who'd been found in the desert by some of his fellow Chaos Marines and was not… reacting well to being in a Chaos Marine Base.

He'd called Imhoden a 'skittish little cousin'. He knows that Black Templars have a dim view of 'warp witches' but as Cedric was of a gentle temperament and younger, it would help, or so they hoped, calm Imhoden down from his Psyker Paranoia. Cedric has yet to come back from the Chaos Base, but they are in regular contact with him, so he's fine.

And, they do have code words and phrases that they use to ensure that he's still fine, and if he needs back up Catius and the others will go to their brother-cousin's aid, Alliance be damned. For some reason Salamander Captain Ash'val has been keeping a closer eye on him, Claude, Ramiel, and Jophiel since Cedric had 'willingly' gone to help Hura with a particularly tricky patient.

He's finished up the work he's been assigned and heads to who's been assigned to order him about today and reports what he's done and requests another duty task. He's happy to work and is ordered to go and get some supplies from the base line human's town for some items that are easier to buy then to make from scratch themselves.

He nods and is given some local currency and a list and heads to the local town to get the supplies. As well as have a walk about to see who's where in town. There was a rumor that one of the feral war bands of Black Templars was going to be heading into, or would be near the town and they wanted to try and keep an eye on them. Black Templars tended to be rather… temperamental types.

Also, their reactions to a Bond are… not ideal. They are usually not Human Killers. As he's gathering the items he looks to where he spots the feral war band of Black Templars and freezes when he hears a voice that he recognizes. His hearts sinking to his chest as he shuffles to a location that's deeper in the shadows of the building as he mentally swears and carefully peaks around the building.

He feels like a rabbit caught in a trap. Ramiel's told them… some of the things that his so-called Mentor did to him. Has heard the bastard's voice over Vox during some of the rare times that Ramiel was able to try and talk to him, before… before they arrived on Ancient Terra.

Captain Petras is on Ancient Terra- and he's part of one of the less human friendly Black Templar war bands. Oh, this is not good. He's one of the more Infamous Primaris Killers, and he's here. Fuck. Chaplains tended to hold a lot of sway among their battle brothers due to their rank and position within the chapter. Oh, this is not good at all. Suddenly there is a voice in his HUD display and he makes a startled noise.

"-ius, come in Catius," The voice- he recognizes and relaxes a little, it's Captain Ash'val, "Catius sit rep- your vitals are going nuts, what's the situation?"

"Sir," Catius croaks, takes in a breath and then starts again, "One of… of the Primaris Killers is on Ancient Terra."

"…Primaris … what?" Ash'val says.

Catius shivers at the tone of the the Dragon's voice. "What do you mean Primaris Killer? A Chaos or Renegade First Born Astartes?"

"No," Catius says, "He's a Loyalist. Chaos and Renegade Space Marines killing us is understandable, we try to kill them. No- Primaris Killer is a title for Loyalist First Borns who decided that Primaris Marines are abominations to be purged and killed."

There is a silence on the other end of the vox-line and Catius feels like he's said or revealed something that perhaps, Cedric and the other's hadn't told Ash'val or the other First born cousins at the base. Why? He's not sure, but he's got a sinking feeling that he's said something he shouldn't have.

"Catius, get back to base," Ash'val orders, "give me a description and name of this… 'loyalist'."

"… Ramiel didn't tell you? or Cedric?" Catius says, really wishing he could keep his big mouth shut, "This particular Primaris Killer murdered Ramiel. In front of Cedric. And he's a Chaplain."

There is another loud, eternity filled, but actually quite short pause from Ash'val. "He's a what."

Catius winces, there are many reasons why allied Chaplains are… a source of… anxiety for Cedric and Ramiel, and to a lesser extent the rest of them. While Catius had been 'lucky' to not have to deal with many first born before arriving on Ancient Terra, most of the other's had and it hadn't been… the best for them at times.

"My estimated time of arrival is five minutes sir," Catius reports, "I was only able to get half of the requested supplies.

"Someone else will finish getting the supplies, your safety is more important at the moment." Ash'val replies.

Catius blinks and tilts his head, not that Ash'val can see that at the moment, "I don't think he spotted me sir."

"Does he know you are friendly with Ramiel and Cedric?" Ash'val asked pointedly.

"Yes sir." Catius replied.

"And do you want him to know you are here? And possibly them to?" Ash'val asks.

"No Sir!" Catius says with wide horrified eyes, "no!"

[toomanytookas]

A Fic Menu for Friendship!

My cherished @schnarfer. How wonderful that our little pieces of the internet intersected such that we could meet. It really does feel like I've known you always sometimes...

And how delightful it has been to be a bit of a garçon de cuisine in your kitchen as of late! Inspired by our convo about reclists as pairing menus, for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange^ I've whipped up a very non-serious one (liberties absolutely taken with the genre) that is a riff on your masterlist and its wonderful contents. 🖤✨

For increased accessibility/given that tumblr can sometimes be weird with images, text of the menu with some formatting preserved is available below the cut! I haven't included links because they're all findable via Al's masterlist; see above!

^Thank you to Cat and Han for creating this event! It's been so lovely to see everyone's posts.

Cafe Schnarfer

Beautiful works handcrafted by head chef Al

Tonight's Menu

-First Courses-

If Wishes Came True (3.87k)

The newest dish on our menu. A perfect tasting platter of some of our chef’s specialties: sparkling love, a character you adore but want to give a firm talking to, and endings that make the angst feel incredibly worth it.

Recommended pairing A healthy slice of cake and a cola flavoured lollipop.

Difficult (12.03k)

The first dish developed for the restaurant! A must for those who enjoy notes of instant chemistry, a bit of self-destruction, a lot of Fleabag energy, and hopeful endings.

Recommended pairing A strawberry milkshake, whipped cream vodka optional* *strongly suggested to make things a little messy, just don’t accidentally give it to the kids

-Entremet-

Purple Haze (5k)

An opportunity to take a brief break from our menu's angsty notes to indulge in a heady, vintage-styled treat. This isn’t your average op-shop find, we’re talking high-end fashion, baby!

Recommended pairing A couple of gin bucks should do the trick. Or just the ginger ale if you’re not in the mood for a buzz!

-Second Courses-

Go Your Own Way (10.87k)

A dish close to the hearts of our whole kitchen. A perfect selection for those who have fallen for a fuckboy and find it therapeutic to recognise your past in a wonderfully raunchy but still angsty story. The finish of this dish manages to incorporate senses of both sadness and hopefulness, making for a cathartic aftertaste.

Recommended pairing A warming Mexican hot chocolate. You'll appreciate how it matches the spice and provides you with some added comfort when things get achy.

Endurance (15.11k)

You will never forget the first time you experience this dish and will always find a way to convince yourself that you aren’t boring for ordering it time after time. A slice of spiciness coupled with a heavy dash of the forbidden add immense depth to a texturally rich feast full of historical flavour.

Recommended pairing A U.S. Army-issued chocolate bar and maybe a prairie oyster for the vibes. But then make sure to treat yourself to some actually  nice-tasting chocolate.

-Dessert-

The Kit Kat Trilogy (16.25k)

The dessert you’ll think about for 10 years and then come back for more. Save room because it is full of delicious angst and delightful romance that you won’t be able to help but consume whole. On a day when you’re low on time, you’ll consider stopping by for just another taste of this memorable sweet treat, we guarantee it.

Recommended pairing A full roast dinner. Even if it’s just for yourself. And maybe a glass of champagne to throw at the wall when things get angsty for a sec.

-Digestifs-

Dial Drunk (7.70k)

Let’s celebrate the end of our meal with lots of hope that emerges from some long-endured darkness.

Recommended pairing The loveliest hot breakfast you could possibly make, full of all your favourites and with plenty of food to go round.

Illicit Affairs (7.47k)

Let’s derail the end our meal with a real hot mess. Maybe you’ll wish you had picked the sweeter option, but, damn, you’ll enjoy the deeply achy ride.

Recommended pairing Wrap yourself in a blanket warm from the dryer for this one. And maybe have some water? The lack of flavour will be a good break from the intensity of it all while still keeping you hydrated.

I love you, Al! 🖤😘

[fear-is-truth]

Hi! I've never really this before but I saw that you're requests were open! I was wondering if you could do Evans react to reader being taller than them? At least a few inches so it's distinguishable between them and reader or were they would have to tilt their head up, either way is good. There is not enough tall! Reader fanfics around 😭

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✧. a/n ─ thank you so much for this ask, i had a lot of fun writing it! hope you like it :)

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐧

tate is a big fan of forehead your kisses. goodness knows that he is touch-starved.

your height is just perfect for him to be the little spoon.

he's the type that’ll grab you down by the collar of your shirt or the nape of your neck and give you a kiss.

𝐊𝐢𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

he melts when you stand right behind him and drape your arms over his shoulders, face buried in his neck

julia and thomas loves to climb you as a tree, and kit thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“eat your veggies, thomas. you wanna grow up as tall and strong like daddy, don’t you?”

“but i wanna be tall like mommy-”

“.. good point, kid. now let’s eat our veggies, yeah?”

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡

james wouldn't mind that you're more than a few inches taller than him. in fact, he finds it only adds to your attractiveness.

he would spoil you with dozens of tailored dresses and extravagant ballroom gowns.

you wearing heels would drive him crazy.

he would constantly remind you how perfect your height was, in case you feel insecure.

“my darling, in your stature, i see the grace of a goddess walking among mere mortals. in your presence, in am endlessly enchanted by you.”

𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫! 𝐊𝐚𝐢 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

he’s okay with guys taller than him, but a woman? unacceptable. his ego simply wouldn’t allow it.

he would resent the fact that he has to crane his neck just to look you in the eye.

he’d have you kneel in front of him so he could look down at you and feel superior. (i’m so sorry but this sounds like something he would totally do)

but then he’ll secretly fantasize about those damn long legs of yours. (he’s a total hypocrite)

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ! 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

he really couldn't care less if you're taller than him; he loves you for the wonderful person you are.

if anyone ever insults you for your height, kyle wouldn’t hesitate to start a fight.

and if hurtful comments make you insecure, he'll immediatly comfort and let you know you're beautiful and perfect for him.

you constantly wear his clothes, and they actually fit quite well. basically, his wardrobe is joint property.

-—————————⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆—————————-

✧. a/n ─ my apologies for not including & jimmy.. will update when i finish the season! pls excuse the crappy writing, english is not my first language.

✧. p.s ─i would love to hear your ideas! requests are open! lemme know if you want to be on my taglist 𖦹

[httpscomexe]

Muzzle: Hydra

Summary: Your life couldn’t possibly become more annoying, at least that’s what you thought before a stranger comes knocking on your door at 3 in the morning. One thing leads to another, and you officially believe college is that worst thing ever. But what happens in college, stays in college.

By the way, I change up every week on SATURDAY (This week is the series “Muzzle,” Last week was “Pinky Promise”). Meaning I will write multiple chapters, every day, on one story, until Saturday where I start another one and will only go back if someone requests for me to, so if you like this chapter and want more, leave a like and by the end of the week you like the series, then DM me or leave a comment asking for me to continue it because I don’t know the next week I’ll continue it. Thank you.

Parings: Winter Soldier x Reader (Mentions of Y/N)

Warnings: (My English can be kinda bad) Not many this chapter. There will be individual warnings per chapter. Blood, wound, stab wound, mention of rape, mention of kidnapping, murder, guns, a lot of bad language words. The Winter soldier is also a warning. (This week is Buckys arm appreciation week for me so stay tuned)

Word Count: 3777

The below image was created by me with some help from pinterest and my editing skills. The dividers were found on someone else's page a long time ago, I don’t remember who’s, but if I come across it again I’ll mention them, even though it said to just like their post if I use their dividers but I will eventually replace the dividers with my own.

A knock on your door was the last thing you needed to ruin your day at 3 in the morning as you were just about to finish the last paragraph of your final. Who the FUCK is knocking on my door at 3 in the fucking morning?! You groan, leaning back in your chair with your hands rubbing down your face as you wait for the shadow under your door to disappear, but whoever it is, they just fucking stand there.

Then they knock again, so you stumble. Get up from your chair and quickly hop into the jeans that were thrown off earlier, and you shove your pink toy into your drawer.

“What do you-?” You freeze. You don’t know exactly how to process the situation since it was the last thing you expected to be knocking on your door at 3 in the morning considering you live in the college dorms. They don’t even speak as they walk into your dorm, their gloved hand holding onto their shirt where they were bleeding out as they made their way into your bathroom. As if your day could get any worse. “Uh, excuse me, what the FUCK do you think you’re doing!” You shout at the man, he wore a mask, more of a muzzle as he made himself at home, going through your bathroom cabinets and taking out your first aid kit and your medical student kit, something you knew he was grateful you had as a med student. “Hey, jerk, I’m talking to-” You stop talking, he eyes looked up at you as if he was some sort of hungry beast and another word would’ve meant your end.

He grunted as if he couldn’t use words, probably from his stupid ass muzzle. Who did he think he was? Coming into YOUR dorm, uninvited you may add, then going into YOUR bathroom and going through YOUR stuff. He grunts again, but this time nodding his head towards the medical kit that was on your sink. He expected you to help him. Why the fuck should you help this asshole? “Fine. But then you leave, asshole.” You tell him, opening the kit. “How bad is it?” You ask him and he finally moves his hand. A stab wound? You have a fucking final to finish god damned it. “Take your shirt off.” You demand, not able to help with his clothes on.

You watch as he reaches behind and grabs the back collar of his shirt and some blood oozes out of his wound, then he pulls his shirt off his head, and grunts again. “Use your goddamn words.” You raise your voice at him then finally look down at his wound. Wounds more like it. “What the fuck did you do…?” You ask him, not exactly expecting an answer as you quickly get to work, first cleaning around every wound on his stomach and chest with a warm, damp rag, and gently drying it with another, eventually the bleeding slows down and you debate where to make him lie down. “Okay so…” You start, grabbing a clean and dry towel off the rack and leaving the bathroom to lie the towel down on your  bed so no blood seeps into your mattress. “Well come here, why are you just standing there?” He immediately starts moving and lies down on your bed. Everything about this was weird, but you didn’t care. You just wanted it to be over with. You were tired, exhausted, and are so close to being done with your final, then this shit happens? Not the wifi going out of the power going out, no, it had to be some random ass shit that would never happen to any other student but you.

“Stay still.” You tell him, beginning to delicately help with each of his wounds, starting with the biggest. Taking your needle and thread, you began to stitch it, and he didn't move an inch, high pain tolerance you assumed, considering he looked like he just ran away from war. “You smell like shit.” You tell him as you add another stitch. “You can shower here too if you like, I have some old hoodies that I stole from my dad and some sweatpants too. It’s late so I guess you can also stay the night.” He grunts again, but it’s in approval. “Are you not able to talk through that mask or something?” You ask him as you tie a stitch and snip it, beginning on the next as he nods. “So take it off.” You tell him, then watch as his left hand moves up to it and he tries to tug at it, but it doesn’t even shift, he was showing you it was stuck, then you noticed the key hole on the side. Who the fuck locked a muzzle on his face. “Oh I see.” You begin with a tight smile. “You’re into that kinky shit but it went a little too far huh?” You joke, nodding towards his stab wounds, but he shakes his head. “Do you want it off?” You ask him, and he answers with a nod. “Okay.” You finish his last stitch and sift through your drawer, his eyes never leaving you so you assume he has trust issues. Then you pull out a small kit, opening it to reveal a bunch of little tools for lock picking. “Another thing I stole from my dad.” You admit, groaning tiredly as you move to your knees beside him and begin to pick at the lock on his muzzle.

“What about your gloves? It’s like a thousand degrees outside dude.” You ask him, and the lock pops as it comes loose, you remove it from his face gently, being careful when taking the strap out of his long black hair since it was tangled. “Jesus dude, when was the last time you ate?” You ask, genuinely concerned. He just shrugs. “You still aren’t gonna talk to me?” You put your hand on your chest, trying to seem offended.

“M’not supposed to.” He finally says, and his voice was scruffy like he hasn’t drank anything in weeks.

“You sound thirsty too.” You tell him, reaching over and grabbing a water bottle from your bed side, which he gladly accepts, quickly drinking it down. “Look dude, I don’t know about you, but you need to find a new girlfriend.” You tell him.

“Not my girlfriend.” He says, his voice sounding more clear, but still deep.

“Yea. Sure.” You say, patting his shoulder. “I’ll get you some clothes and set up the couch for you to sleep, then I need to finish my essay.” You tell him, standing up from the bed and moving to your closet, taking out an old Hard Rock sweater and some grey jeans that were always too big on you. “Here.” You hold your hand out with the clothes. “I’ll get the shower started up for you.” You tell him, leaving him on the bed as you enter the bathroom and turn the water on, keeping your hand under the shower head until it is warm. “Okay, come shower.” You shout, walking out of the bathroom as he stands up and walks past you, closing the door behind him as he takes a shower.

When he’s finally out of your sight, that’s when you finally freak the fuck out. “What the fuck-” You mumble, quickly moving to your desk to grab your phone. Something you didn’t do before because that man could definitely rip your arm off with no effort. You scroll through your messages until you see your best friend's name and you tap it, typing rapidly to send them a text.

You: DUDE!

Peter: DUDE!

You: No seriously, DUDE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

Peter: IDK UNLESS YOU TELL ME

You: Some dude with stab wounds covered in blood just popped up at my door.

Peter: You use the caps for ‘DUDE’ but not that? What happened? Are you okay?

You: Yea I’m okay, I stitched him up and he’s taking a shower, I told him he could stay the night. He seemed friendly, but boy if looks could kill.

Peter: Should I report it? Call the police?

You: No, but if I don’t show up to class in the morning you know why. Anyways, goodnight.

Peter: Okay yea, seems normal, at least for you. Goodnight. Don’t die.

You put your phone back on the desk and look at your almost finished essay, then lean over your desk and type in two lazy and sloppy sentences before turning it in. I’m not spending another minute on that damned thing. You tell yourself, then you hear the water in the bathroom stop. About two minutes later you’re sitting on your bed, some extra blankets and a pillow thrown on your couch for the man, and he walks out.

“You don’t smell like sweat and garbage anymore?”

“I smell like flowers…” He grumbles and you giggle a little.

“What’s your name?” You ask, he doesn’t answer. “Well mine is Y/N. A lot of my friends call me Bee, like the bug. Cause I’m a happy person and yellow usually indicates happiness.” He stops at the couch and gives you a look. “You can sleep there. It’s dark out.”

“Thank you…” He pauses.

“Bee.”

“Bee.” You smile a little as he sits on the couch, and uses one of the thinner blankets.

“Lights on or off?”

“On.” God damnit.

“Okay, goodnight grumpy.” You tease, and you feel him look at you after you get comfortable under your blankets, and finally get to fall asleep.

You awake to the feeling of your phone vibrating, about 5 minutes before your alarm was set to go off. Sitting up and stretching, in your vision you could see the stranger from last night. He was curled up in your pretty pink my little pony comforters, and the thinner blanket was halfway off the couch as he snored quietly. You were careful not to wake him, making sure your alarm wouldn’t go off by unplugging it before stepping out of bed and stretching, it felt like heaven as your back was stretched and you went right back into your daily routine.

First, you snatched a twinkie from its box and opened the wrapper, setting it on one of your paper plates. Feeling extra hungry from your long night, you decided to also grab a roll of cookie dough from your mini fridge which you popped into the microwave for a minute with some marshmallow set on top of each one. “Where are you?” You say to yourself, opening up a cabinet as you searched for the chocolate powder before pulling the milk out of the fridge, then you reached up, grabbed a mug and you began to mix some chocolate milk.

You hummed quietly to yourself, waiting for your coffee to finish brewing as you snacked on a cookie. Then you heard a shuffling behind you, turning around and you saw the stranger from last night. You still had yet to learn his name. “Well good morning.” You say softly. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” You apologise quietly, then take a bite from your twinkie.

“Smells good.” He says in his morning voice.

“Want one?” You ask, picking up a marshmallow cookie and handing it to him. He inspects it before taking it with his right hand, your eyes glancing at his left hand before the coffee brewer sings to you, letting you know it was done. 

“It’s good.” He says as you take the pot off the machine and pour some into your metal tumbler until it was half full, filling the rest with milk and vanilla syrup. “Smells good too.” He says, looking at the coffee pot. Without looking at him, you make him a mug as well.

“Here.” You hand it to him, then you leave to go to the bathroom to get ready.

“Okay, routine.” You remind yourself, starting with brushing your hair, and everything else before finally turning on the shower and stepping into the nice warm water.

You shower for about twenty minutes. Washing your hair, cleaning your body and just relaxing overall before your presentation. But soon, you had to get out. You figured you could stay longer and just cancel class, lose a few points for not presenting, then get it over with, but you couldn’t afford the water bill anyways.

“Shit.” You curse. Normally you’re alone in the morning so you can shower then leave the bathroom naked and get dressed by your closet, but today you’re not able to do that. “Hey.” You call for the man and he looks over at you, your head peeking through the door. “I hate to ask but can you grab me some clothes? There's an outfit on the top of my dress and my bra and panties are in the top left drawer.” You say, feeling your face heating up but you can’t let him know this is awkward for you. Once again, he just grunts in response before putting the coffee mug he was drinking from back down on the counter and going to your dresser, taking out a random pair of panties and a random bra as well. “Can you grab the black ones please? They match.” You ask, and he puts them back, shifting through your clothes awkwardly before his hand comes back out, the hip part of your black lace panties hanging from his index finger with the bra next to it hanging on his middle finger. “Those, yes. Thank you.” You blurt out as he takes all the clothes and walks to the bathroom door, you stick your hand out to take them.

As soon as you’re finished dressing and drying your hair, you decide not to style it today. You finish in the bathroom by spraying your perfume and then you get out and start to get your bag together. “How long are you staying? I’m about to leave for class.” You let him know, flipping some hair back that falls in front of your eyes before looking up at him. “I’m not actually even supposed to have you here, this building doesn’t exactly allow boys.” You tell him, then move to the counter and grab your twinkie, finishing it. “I mean you can stay, but you can’t leave once the halls are packed.” You say with a stuffed mouth. When he doesn’t answer you, you look up at him, expecting an answer. “You gonna answer me or are you gonna stare at me like you’re gonna rip my throat out?” You blurt out without thinking, then he approaches you and your posture straightens. “What?” You say quietly, then his right hand reaches up and touches the side of your lip, when he draws his hand back, you see some white on his thumb. Fucking twinkie. You curse to yourself on this inside, and you’ll admit that his gentleness did send butterflies through your stomach. “Well?”

“You smell good.” He says suddenly, interrupting you.

“Oh uh-” You shift on your feet a little. “Thanks I uh… Thanks.” You stutter, and he gently pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear as he looks into your eyes. Fuck no. You turn away, grabbing your bag and you throw it over your shoulders as you walk away from him. “I have to go. Remember, you can stay, just make sure that when you leave, the halls are empty.” You tell him, then you open your door, slamming it shut behind you after making sure your keys were still on your belt loop.

“So Peter told me what happened last night.” Was the first thing your friend said as she saw you. “Something about someone breaking into your room and-”

“What? He didn’t break in. I let him in cause he looked like he’d kill me if I didn’t.” You also fail to mention how he just kind of shoved passed you without asking.

“But it’s still weird. Like I would be freaking out if some bloody dude showed up at my door at 3 in the morning.”

“I don’t know, it bothered me at first but he’s cool. He’s really quiet.” You tell her, still walking to your class, wishing something would get in the way of your presentation.

“Only you wouldn’t be bothered or concerned about that.” She scoffs. “What if he’s part of some gang? They might find out you helped him then next thing you know your head is rolling off your neck. Haven’t you done the gauntlet challenge? Those gangs do that shit, Bee.” She tells you, then gets ahead of you, crossing her arms to stop you. “I know you think life is all sunshine and rainbows and shit, but it’s not. What if he had raped you?”

“Tiffany!” You raise your voice, calming yourself when some people's eyes land on you. “Come on, it’s not that serious. There’s no gangs here in Manhattan. Now please. Stop talking about it.” You tell her, passing her but she speeds up.

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong, you can’t let just anyone into your room. What if you were caught?”

“I’m sure the dean would understand once she saw his stab wounds?”

“Stab wounds? Are we talking about the possible gang member slash serial killer that you’re so casual about?” Peter suddenly joins the conversation, along with Ned and MJ.

“Oh my God, you’re all ridiculous.” You say back.

MJ: I mean, they aren’t wrong. Are you down to skip your first class?

Peter: She can’t skip, we have a presentation.

You: Gee Pete, thanks for answering for me. What were you thinking of doing?

“I was gonna go get some coffee then go to the arcade, wanna go with or is the presentation too risky to skip?” She asks, sarcasm laced in her words.

“Yea I’m down, it won’t hurt my grade. It gives me an excuse to skip, wanna walk or drive?” You reach towards your waist band, pulling off your keys.

“Lets walk, I don’t feel like driving and it isn’t far.” You answer with a simple okay before you both leave the group and leave campus for the coffee shop, which was about a 5 minute walk turned into a 20 minute walk with human traffic.

“Hi, yea, can I get just a vanilla frappe? Thanks.” MJ orders, then you step up and order your usual, you each pay half and half.

“So is this guy still in your room?” She wonders.

“I mean I haven’t gotten a notification that he’s left.”

“Yea but I didn’t even see him enter. I was at the front desk this morning for 7 hours and didn’t see him come in. The side exits are locked with a shit ton of boxes blocking them.”

“Well that’s weird.” You hum confusedly at first, but then hum in joy as your coffees are brought to your table.

“Maybe he’s some secret ninja?” She chuckles.

“Oh haha, what do you think he’s a gang member too?”

“I mean it’s possible. But I doubt it. Did he seem like one?”

“Nope. It was weird, he had this muzzle on and it was locked, so I picked it and he sucks at speaking, it’s like he doesn’t know how to properly form a sentence.”

“That’s weird. Sounds like some kinky ass shit though. A muzzle and stab wounds?” You both start laughing.

“That’s exactly what I thought! But believe me, he did NOT like it when I said that.” You laugh a little, and a car alarm goes off behind you, but you ignore it, it is New York after all.

“Oh yea? What'd he say?”

“He didn’t say anything, he just gave me this look…”

“Show me the look.” She demands in a playful way and you try to contort your face into his, making a total fool of yourself as you do.

“I don’t know how to make it, but I promise it was threatening.” You both break out in laughter, hers turned into a scream as you hear glass breaking behind you, making you snap your head around in time to see a man holding just about the biggest fucking gun you’ve ever seen hit the floor, followed by the man who was in your room last night jumping through the window. “What the fuck…” You whisper, quickly getting out of your chair and backing away with MJ, keeping your body in front of hers. “That’s the guy from last-” You’re cut off by him lifting his leg and then stomping hard on the other man's skull, hard enough to hear the cracking of his skull from the other side of the coffee shop, causing more screams to erupt. “Night…” You whisper, and everyone watches as he reaches down, picking up what you presume is an M4, something you’d know from the countless movies you’ve had to watch with your guy friends.

“Don’t move.” You tell MJ. Still keeping her behind you, but your voice catches his attention, his hand immediately reaching for his waist and pulling out a solid black desert eagle, which snaps in your direction, pointing straight at your head. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He looks at you, and you can see some sort of question in his eyes, it was the look you give people when you see them for the first time in years. He looked at you as if he was about to ask if he knew you. Then he lowered his gun, but kept his eye on you for a moment, watching as you took a deep breath.

“Well you helped him so he shouldn’t shoot us right?” MJ whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear, but you kept your eyes in the man's eyes, refusing to look away. Then he turned and walked away, putting his smaller gun back at his waist and raising his bigger one as he left the coffee shop.

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck?” You spit out as soon as he’s gone.

“So is it still wrong to think he’s a gang member?”

“MJ, shut up.”

“But didn’t you see that star on his left arm? Which may I add was made of fucking metal!” She screams as you both gather your belongings as a fight happens with bullets outside, causing you both to duck under the table.

“So what?”

“Its the fucking soviet symbol.”

“And…” You feel your heart skip.

“Do you even look at the fucking news? He's the winter soldier. Hydras fucking escaped project.”

Oh yea. You fucked up.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Regency Romantasy

So...it has been brought to my attention that I perhaps have a type, and this book ticked a lot of really good boxes for me. It's regency-inspired. It's fantasy. It's a romance. It has a chronically ill main character. It has sewing and fashion. Literally 90% of the characters are LGBTQIA. It has a BALCONY SCENE for crying out loud. It even has a gossip columnist who might be better than Lady Whistledown (do NOT come for me, Bridgerton Fandom, I said what I said). I could go on, but at that point I think we would have completely dissolved from actual review to screamed list of things I enjoyed, so let's rein it in for a minute and talk A Fragile Enchantment.

I'm going to start with setting, because while this book is regency-inspired, it also plays a little fast and loose with other historical inspirations. The reality of the blight and famine in historical Ireland (and frankly also the troubles and every time that Ireland revolted against England) was that it came after the regency, but here Niamh is the first generation after a similar event and subsequent revolt in her home country of fantasy Irel--I mean Machland. She has grown up surrounded by survivors of the blight and revolt, and like everyone who reads Maus learns, generational trauma is a BITCH. So when our dressmaker protagonist is invited to make the wedding clothes for the son of the king who murdered her people, it's politically and emotionally charged. Add to that the fact that Niamh's magic is hereditary and weirdly murdery, and yeah, things are emotional as heck.

Possibly I shouldn't relate quite so hard to a protagonist who is literally hurting herself for people who ultimately couldn't give a damn about her, but that IS my villain origin story, so all I had for Niamh was compassion at how hard a position that is to be in.

Niamh herself is beautifully written, and Saft balances all the threads tied around and pulling at Niamh's heart just beautifully. Every choice is complex and fraught, and so-deeply-ingrained-she-doesnt-even-notice-it impulse to shape herself around other people's pain and grief and comfort them instead of sitting with her own feelings is just stunningly well executed without feeling dramatic or indulgent.

Niamh is so desperate for friends, and the little ring she constructs around herself couldn't be stranger or more wonderful. From the enraged, grumpy Kit to Sinclair to Rosa and Miriam, this found family is wildly unlikely and prickly, but they fit between each other's thorns just perfectly.

And speaking of people having thorns...we need to address Kit Carmine. Younger son of a mad (and abusive before he went mad) king with an alcohol problem and green magic, our boy is GRUMPY. And BLUNT. And honestly I love him for that, because those thorns are hiding a very stressed out, distinctly squishy center. And also one that is deathly afraid of hurting people, because that's also a thing.

Kit is so tangled up between rage and duty and the few people he cares about that he and Niamh really have to work to develop a compassionate understanding based on wildly different personalities. And then you add all the imperialist and decolonizing stress between them plus the fact that KIT IS LITERALLY ABOUT TO MARRY SOMEONE ELSE and it's a whole deal.

There are so many wonderful moments in this book, it was a delight from start to finish. I objectively have more to say about this book, but I want to avoid spoilers here to inspire y'all to go read this book. I promise, it's worth it. Now, go get it and read. *shoos you toward the bookstore/library/tablet/place you get your books from*

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Her Song part 5

Today is Friday, which means tonight we're doing live music. Ash and I named it 'VIP Night' when we were drunk...it may or may not secretly stand for Very Inappropriate Performances. It's not an event we hold every week, but I try to book bands as often as possible. If we can't find anyone, then I host a karaoke night, which most people love. The only downside is that I can't sell booze.

Bummer.

Since there's less than an hour until VIP Night starts, Syd and I are currently moving the shop around. We rearrange all the tables so they face the small stage in the corner of the store; it's only big enough for a few people at a time, but it's all we need. There's not a lot else we can move because of the aisles, but we make it work. I turn the chairs so they face the right way, too, and then sweep off the mini stage.

Syd cleans off the tables while I grab the microphone and tech gear from the back room. As I'm setting up the mic stand, the music abruptly changes from Patsy Cline to Big Time Rush.

Sighing, I give the culprit a 'really?' look and shake my head at her.

"Love you, Momma," she says sweetly.

"Love you too, you little Satanist. And you're only playing this until people start arriving, okay?"

"Deal!"

"Thank you," I say, returning to my task.

"Hey, Momma?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"What's a Satanist?"

"You."

"That isn't a valid definition. Please elaborate. Feel free to use the term in a sentence."

"What- oh my god. Bring me the box of cords, please. This one is done for," I say, tossing the clean-cut cord to the side.

She drags the box of extra cords out of back room and sets it in front of me. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome, sir," she replies as she plops down on the stage next to me.

I rummage through the box, but the cord I need isn't there. "Damn. I guess we'll have to splice the one we have. We can get a new one tomorrow. Do you know where the wire strippers are?"

"Yup. In the toolbox under the shelf with the boxes of cups and napkins. I'll go get them."

"Thank you, Syd."

She skips away and quickly returns with the small tool. I strip both ends of the wire and grab the two halves to twist them together.

"Hi, Y/N!"

The sudden loud voice scares me and my body jumps. One end of the wire, which was apparently very sharp, slips and nicks my finger.

"Oh my god! Can everybody please stop scaring me like that," I breathe out as I stand up.

"Sorry," Florence apologizes sheepishly. "I just heard that you're doing a special night here and I wanted to see if you need any help before it starts?"

"Oh, well, I really appreciate that. Thank you, Florence. But I think all we need to do is fix this wire and set up the mic."

"Momma, is that blood?" Syd cuts in. I look down at my hand and, sure enough, there's a steady stream of blood running down my finger.

"Huh," I say. "I'll be right back. Talk amongst yourselves."

I go into the bathroom and grab our first aid kid, doing my best to not drip blood everywhere. The first aid kit has a latch on it, which is very difficult to open when one hand is covered in blood.

Florence walks in and closes the bathroom door behind her. "Hey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you and make you cut your hand and- why is it bleeding so much?"

"I think the wire, like, punctured my skin. It's fine, it's not a big deal. And it's definitely not your fault, so don't apologize. I'm very accident prone."

"And apparently extremely easy to sneak up on," she adds, taking the first aid kit from me and digging out an antiseptic wipe. "Wash the blood off first," the blonde instructs.

"Yes, ma'am."

She watches me closely as I wash and dry my hands, but I pretend not to notice because I'm too awkward to say anything. When I'm finished, I jut my hand out for her and she takes it with a playful eye roll. She dabs it with an antiseptic wipe and I wince. "Hey! Be gentle, jeez. That shit burns."

"Oh, suck it up you big baby."

"This is all your fault, remember."

"You literally just said it wasn't my fault!"

"I was lying to make you feel better about yourself. In reality, I'm in a great deal of pain because of you."

She smacks my arm and we both burst out laughing. Looking into her captivating hazel eyes, our laughter slowly fades and her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and I'm sure mine look the same. She quietly clears her throat and breaks eye contact, wrapping a bandaid around my index finger.

"There you go. I think you'll live."

"What, you're not even gonna kiss it better?" I joke. She grabs my hand and quickly kisses my finger before turning around and leaving the bathroom. "Huh," I say in the empty room.

I can hear more voices coming from the shop as people begin to show up for VIP night, so I quickly place the first aid kit back on the shelf and rush into the main area to finish fixing the cord.

The mic is fixed and set up within the next five minutes, so now we're just waiting for the band to show up. For tonight, we booked a small band whose members go to a local college. They're pretty good, and I think Florence will love their music.

I scan the room for Ash since she was supposed to clock in ten minutes ago, and I see her greeting the band as they enter the store. Waving them over to the stage, I help them set up.

One everything is ready to go, Ash dims the lights and I step into the stage, grabbing the microphone.

"Hey, y'all! How are we feeling tonight?" A series of claps and cheers comes from the small crowd in the store. I make eye contact with Florence and send her a small smile, to which she waves. "Thank you guys so much for coming to VIP night. I'll get out of here so the band can introduce themselves. Enjoy the show!"

Hopping off the stage, I join Ash behind the cafe counter to help her with the orders. I assist her with making the drinks and grabbing pastries while David carries the orders to people's tables.

"Y/N, come here," I hear Florence say from the end of the counter. "I want to introduce you to someone."

I look up and see Florence standing there with a guy. He's older, brown hair. Conventionally attractive, I guess. "Uh, hi. I'm Y/N," I greet him.

"I'm Zach, Florence's boyfriend. It's good to finally meet you. Flo hasn't stopped talking about you," he says, sticking his hand out for me to shake, which I do, giving him a polite, tight-lipped smile. The boyfriend. I always forget about the boyfriend.

"It's good to meet you, too. Although Florence hasn't mentioned you at all," I reply with unintentional malice.

Ash, overhearing the conversation, coughs loudly as if saying be nice. I remind myself that it's not my place and I have no right to be upset. "I've gotta get back to work. Have fun," I say with an (almost) genuine smile.

I do my best to ignore Florence's quietude and clenched jaw. She seemed guilty. She had no reason to be. I should've known she had a boyfriend and that she was just being nice. That's on me.

[megaderping]

The sound of an obnoxiously catchy jingle jolted Akechi from his sleep. Grumbling, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and scowled at Yu, who watched the TV from the couch with his chin resting in his hands. Some strange man in a suit appeared on the screen, with a broad nose and an orange, striped tie. He spoke with an undeniable charisma you'd expect from a telemarketer, and Akechi could've sworn he'd seen that man's face before…

"This is Tanaka's Amazing Commodities, the mail order television program, being broadcasted live to you! We guarantee your purchase will meet your satisfaction for a fair market price! Now, let's introduce the products that will be on sale for the next three days!"

Then came more of that jingle… which Yu sang along to. "Granter of your desires!"

Akechi stared flatly at Yu. "Infomercials? Really?" Tanaka droned on and on about Adios Shoes in the background, and Yu simply shrugged and bobbed along to the jingle.

"You never know. Could come in handy in the TV world."

"Or you could get suckered into buying low-budget garbage."

Tanaka's solicitation cut through the conversation. "...But wait, there's more! I'll add two Slimming Foods to the Adios Shoes! All this for only 5,980 yen! We've got another fantastic product on sale today! One Medical Kit! It's very helpful in emergencies! What can I do to sweeten this pot for you? Ooh, I know! For this one, I'll add four Medicines to your Medical Kit for 2,980 yen!"

Akechi scoffed. The Medical Kits could be useful, he supposed, and… damn it. Yu was already dialing up the number. "Well, it is your money. I take it you're going for the shoes?"

"Yep. Some new kicks might help Chie kick ass in the next dungeon."

Rolling his eyes, Akechi grabbed a calculator off his desk. He punched in the individual costs of the Medicines and Medical Kits, and… hm. It was cheaper than buying them individually. So, once Yu finished his call, Akechi dialed up the number and placed the order for a Medical Kit package. Once that was out of the way, he flipped his phone shut.

"Well then. Have you any big plans for the day?"

"Yep, but they're top secret." Yu sauntered over to the dresser, digging out a black jacket, matching black jeans, and an undershirt.

Akechi followed suit, fetching his green sweater vest, white shirt, black slacks, and almond blazer for a sophisticated Sunday fit. "And just when we've come so far…" He smirked all the same. "Then again, another mystery is tempting to pursue."

Previous Chapter | Full Chapter | Read from the Beginning

-- Akechi's birthday rapidly approaches... but also many shenanigans afoot! This chapter had a lot more in it than I remembered. Hope you enjoy!

[beileil]

very late but i'm the anon who was asking for Genos fic recs! i would love to see what kind of genosai fics you have to recommend as well!

Nonny. This ask makes me so happy. (Also congrats on being my first ever anon who isn't a bot!) Original ask to @gofancyninjaworld and my recommendation for Savior Complex is here.

In 2019 when I was in my "honeymoon" phase of the fandom, I actually went through the beginning of the One Punch Man fics on Ao3; filtered by English language, Exclude Crossovers, and the Saitama/Genos relationship tag; and read damn near every one of them that wasn't just a short PWP. I also skipped it if it was an incomplete work that was less than 2,000 words or so and hadn't been updated in a while, because I didn't want to get sucked into a good fic that had a good chance of never being finished. But I think I fully read about 500 fics.

If you want my full bookmarks list (sorted to Saitama/Genos fics), it's here. BUT keep in mind that: some of them only have SaiGenos as a side pairing, some of them are super guilty pleasure or have tropes like A/B/O that not everyone likes, and there are lots of fics by particular authors that I love but didn't necessarily add to my bookmarks because I just visit their author page to reread them.

I'm going to put specific fic recs beneath the cut, because this is going to get long. If anyone else has SaiGenos fic recs, please hop in on the notes or reblogs!

This is my Best of the Best list, authors and/or specific fics that really stand out. I'm going to try to keep it Genos-centric because of your original ask, but there may be some from Saitama's POV that are just so good that I need to throw them in there. And obviously this isn't all of them...it's more of a "start with these". Here we go!

Pretty much anything by batneko. She's phenomenal. My personal favorites include: The Charcoal Burner (Saitama as Cinderella...sort of? It's funny af), Boom Town (wild west AU, unfinished but the one chapter that's up is long), Cursed Forest (Japanese folklore/yokai AU where Genos is a kitsune and Saitama is a monk; has the cutest ending), Reset (Genos goes back in time to try to stop the attack on his village; this one is angsty so you really need to be in a mood for it), One Small Step (Men in Black AU), Missed Connections (gonna be honest, this one's a personal fave because Iaian is in it, but it's also extremely good), and anything in the Myth AU series.

Kakera (@unfortunatelycake) is another author who has tons of fics I love, and writes a WIDE variety of pairings. Personal favorites of her SaiGenos fics are: Found in Silence, These Things Unheard (Genos loses his hearing and Saitama realizes Feelings), and A Place of Healing (wartime AU that takes place in an army hospital; very angsty but amazing payoff).

Demon Cyborg's Livestream by Rayadraws, which is the first fic I ever bookmarked. Genos gets forced by the HA to do livestreams. The results are hilarious.

Similar to the above fic, but it's Saitama doing livestreams: A Live Wire by modeoheim. It's from Saitama's POV, but obviously Genos is there.

Green tea kit-kats by thesaraghina. In which Saitama runs a cat cafe. It is extremely cute. Technically unfinished, but doesn't leave off in an unsatisfying place.

An Untethered Soul by Crandberrycrush. Sort of a medieval high fantasy AU. Amazing worldbuilding, and has an interesting take on Genos effectively turning into a "medieval cyborg".

Call Me Home by aerynevenstar. This one is famous for a reason. To date, it is the only fic that has affected me so hard that I threw my phone across the room, screamed "Oh my GOD", and had to calm down my pounding heart before I continued.

The God and the Demon. Saitama is a god. Genos is a demon. The writing is beautiful.

It Doesn't Get Any Realer Than This by FandomShuffle. In which a reality show crew follows Saitama and Genos around. My favorite thing about this fic is that the point of views are really unique, because you mostly see things from Genos' perspective, but sometimes it flips to the TV viewers, camera crew, or other characters (some of which you rarely see in fanfiction).

I Want You to Want Me by One_Punch_Chan. Genos has a stalker, Saitama pretends to be his boyfriend to deter them. Every sentence in this fic is funny.

And finally, the most meta SaiGenos fic I can think of: Big Name Fan by hazeltea. In which Saitama checks his Ao3 tag, is disappointed at the lack of results, and Genos fixes it.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Out of the Woods (Werewolf x Reader) Part 2

Pairing:Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Rural Fantasy, Slow Burn, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, Small mention of animal (specifically coyote) death, mentions of guns

Word Count: 6082 words

Summary: You begin the slow journey of sheltering a werewolf. Whether that’s a smart idea, you’re still unsure. But the two of you are stuck in this together, like it or not.

A/N: So……part two is here!!! (What do you mean its been 7 months since I’ve updated shhhhh)

But seriously, thank you for all the support over my impromptu hiatus. I was hit with pretty severe writers block on top of general life stress. I found myself disliking everything I wrote and hating the anxiety I had when I didn't. But the break has actually helped ALOT. I’m so happy with this piece and I think y’all will like it, I know you have been waiting a while! Enjoy!

(Side note, I'm thinking of writing some little vignettes about this relationship in the future. Let me know if y'all would be interested!)

Taglist: @ileavechaosinmywake @wannabewolf

@sorryimnotcreativeatall

As Heath scarfs down a whole rotisserie chicken by himself, you wonder how long your groceries are going to last.

He eats with his hands, like a drunk person desperate for a salty snack in the middle of the night. You can see that even in his human form his canines are elongated and extra sharp. They tear through the meat like a hot knife through butter. When he finds a particular piece is too hard to get with his mouth, he flicks out his claws and scrapes it out.

He’s still handsome as hell, though.

His long hair falls elegantly over his shoulder, drawing attention to his sharp clavicle and the definition of his shoulder muscles. It’s shiny and thick, surprisingly well-kept, as if he hadn’t been living in the wilderness for the last few months.

“Here,” You take the scrunchie off your wrist, sliding it across the table, “Take this.” Heath pauses his little massacre to quickly tie his hair up, just out of the way enough so he can eat unabated.

So he does know what hair-ties are.

You add that to the “What The Werewolf knows” list in your mind; His unabashedness about nudity and lack of social graces would indicate he hasn’t lived in civilization for a while, but his general know-how of kitchen appliances and a first aid kit seem to say otherwise.

“So…” You mutter, tapping your fingers on the table. Heath doesn’t even look up from his chicken. “Do you know why the hunters are after you?”

Heath shrugs, cracking a chicken bone and sucking out the marrow. “Sort of,” He says, chicken rib still in mouth, “Been told a lot about this place. This town’s got more people who know about the supernatural than usual and they have a long line of Hunters. It’s kind of known as a ‘Do Not Enter’ zone for us werewolves.” Once he’s finished with the bone, he tosses it to the side of his plate, some grease flying off and dotting your place mats. You nod, still trying to absorb the new status-quo yesterday brought.

“And you came here for?”

Heath finally stops eating, looking up at you with a big smirk. His shining canines have bits of chicken still stuck in between them, but it doesn’t make the fangs look any less menacing.

“I’m a risk taker. Ain’t no pack to hold me back, just living life out in the woods, I need to get my kicks somewhere. Plus,” He takes his last bite of chicken, wiping the excess carnage off his chin, and flexes his biceps, “I’m not a push-over.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee, not willing to debate with his showboating. It was probably a coping mechanism anyway, given he was bleeding out on your porch less than a day ago.

“Damn, that was delicious. Got any more?”

You almost choke on your tea, eye the full carcass on his plate, and then look at him.

He’s a big guy, guess that makes sense.

“There’s some chips in the pantry. But we’ll have to wait on chicken.” Heath's face lights up at the talk of snacks, pushing himself up and jogging to the pantry. If he was a wolf, his tail would probably be wagging.

Heath has to lean down to comfortably reach stuff in your cabinets and you jerk your eyes away, forcing yourself to not  look at his (very, very nice) butt. You wipe tea off your chin.  “I have some chicken pot pies for tomorrow, but it’s best to hold off for now. I probably shouldn’t head back into town until we know those guys won’t come back and kill you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Heath waves, letting out a little ‘yes!’ when he finally finds the chips. “I’ll probably leave tomorrow.”

Your mug bangs against the kitchen table as you whip around to him. “What?”

Heath shrugs, mouth semi-full of chips. “I’ll be right as rain by then. Might as well get a head start.”

“But, But, the guys-”

Heath squints, his face going cold. “I’ll outrun them.”

“You’re going to outrun three F-150’s on a bunch of back roads in their home turf? Not to mention Robert’s dirt bikes; Those guys use them all the time to hunt rabbits.” Heath rolls his eyes and you clench your teeth. You really hate it when he does that. “Just...stay here a couple days. The excitement will go down and I can tell them you took off in the middle of the night. Make the trip out of here as easy as possible.”

Heath sets down the bag of chips. “You said it yourself, you don’t have enough food-”

“I didn’t say that. I said-”

“Why do you care so much anyway?” Heath points an accusatory finger at you, “I’m not some charity case you have to worry about. Sorry you feel like you have to be the hero here, but you don’t; I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.”

The hardwood squeals as you leap out of your seat, your chair roughly pushed against the table as you point back at Heath. “I care because I like my chickens, hate those damn coyotes, and don’t want to be stuck burying your dead ass when it winds up on my property, got it?” You walk towards him, forcing Heath backwards into the counter. “Now listen,” you stick a  finger into his chest, “I don’t appreciate you talking to me that way. And if you’re going to stay here, I’d like us to be on good terms. God knows it would be a lot easier for me to throw you out right now, but I won’t. Because despite that snark of yours, I’m a good person, no hero-worship needed.”

The air is thick, hot as you two stand inches from each other, chest to chest. Heath looks down, his face furrowed, before he looks to the side.

“...Fine.” Heath mutters.

You let yourself breathe. A part of you wonders if God amped up your boldness today; ____ from last week probably wouldn’t have confronted  several men with guns and a werewolf on the same day. You brush back your hair and sigh, moving away from Heath to clean up his dishes.

“You should probably go to bed, you’ve had a long day.”

Heath doesn’t say anything, walking past you to the bedrooms. You tell yourself to not look back at him.

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

The next day, you barely see Heath at all; He keeps to his room, only peeking his head out for a quick breakfast, lunch, and an afternoon shower. An afternoon shower that completely clogs your drain with thick, white fur.

You let him have his space, the spat the two of you had leaving a sour taste in your mouth. But the next morning you wake up to a mess of dishes in your sink, another clogged shower drain, and a whole chicken skeleton on your countertop, and decide it’s now time to set some ground rules.

You knock on his door that night, oven mitts and an apron in hand. Heath opens, wearing the same pair of sweats you had given him, shirtless.

You can feel your face flush as your eyes inadvertently skirt over his defined chest, but force yourself to look into his eyes. It’s just like having a roommate, that’s all, nothing’s there.

“You hungry?”

Heath makes a half-motion to say no, but the loud growl that comes from his stomach says otherwise. He scowls a bit and you hold in laugh as he looks as he grabs his abdomen.

“.....Yes”

You nod, biting your lip and handing him the oven mitts.

“Good, because I need some help.”

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

Heath’s quick to learn how to properly peel and mince after a quick lesson, but he still keeps quiet throughout the whole process. You try to find the words to make small talk, but nothing seems to come to mind. Asking about werewolf stuff still feels invasive and you doubt the go-to’s of “Where’d you go to high school?” and “What do you do for work?” will help you in breaking the tension.

Still, Heath doesn’t seem angry, or even resentful. Just...quiet. You notice that he’s begun unconsciously bobbing his head to the music playing over your speaker; Even shimmying his feet back and forth. You think several times that you could ask what music he likes, but by the time you work up the courage he’s already made himself a plate to quickly devour.

You had gone with something a little heavier tonight, knowing how much he eats, but his portion still seems significantly smaller than last dinners. You hope he doesn’t feel like he has to eat less because of what you said about groceries; You don’t want him to starve.

But he cleans his plate, walking back to his room with a quick ‘Thanks’.

As you wash your dishes, you try to come up with a new plan to make him more comfortable.

Damn, this is going to be difficult.

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

You never love waking up in the middle of the night, especially when you're thirsty. It feels like walking around kicks you out of that sleeping sweet-spot, right on the edge of unconsciousness. Not to mention how creepy your hallways can be in the pitch-black. But the cottony-feeling in your mouth forces you out of your room, stumbling into the kitchen for a cup of water.

You’re still in a little bit of a daze, just opening the cabinet door when you hear a commotion outside that jolts you awake. It starts with quick clicks of nails on your back porch, followed by a sickening snarl and a thump as something hits your outside wall. It devolves into several yelps and growls, making you grab that faithful knife from its block and run outside.

When you open the door, there’s a final snap as you see Heath rip open a coyote's throat, thick blood splattering against your porch, reflecting the moon light.

It’s odd to say you’re relieved by the sight, having feared the absolute worst (Robert, all those men, Heath’s poor body splayed out on the hardwood). Even as Heath digs into the now-carcass, sort of gruesomely, you feel the relief wash over you.

But wait, why was he outside in the first place?

“Uh, you good?”

Heath jolts a bit, jerking away from his meal, his snout painted red. But he visibly relaxes when he notices it’s you. He gives a little nod, then goes back to picking at the remains.

You set down the knife on your porch side table, leaning your head forward to peer into your chicken coop, which lays not two feet away from your porch.

All of your girls are huddled up in the corner, feathers still fluttered, but they seem far more relaxed than you would expect. Their wobbly heads keep peaking over each other to keep an eye on Heath, who has  made  quick  work  of the coyote. He swipes  his paw over his snout, barely getting any blood off as he wrinkles his  nose.

“Thanks so much. I really appreciate this. But, you know…” You gesture toward the half-eaten coyote left on your porch steps. “I think those other ones will get the message, you  could  probably just go to bed.”

Heath just looks at you, eyes just as unreadable as when he’s human, and walks over to the coop. He plops himself in the grass, laying down his head and tucking his tail.

You’re gonna take that as a ‘no’ to your sleeping inside offer.

You sigh, about to make the  long walk back to your bed when you notice a little movement from the bundle  of chickens.

Georgette, your bravest girl, begins to strut away from the safety huddle. The other ladies cluck as she tentatively trots over to Heath, head bobbing as she gets closer and closer to the chicken wire. With a poke, the tip of her beak sticks in between the holes, head twitching as she eyes up Heath. One of Heath’s ear twitches, but he keeps his eyes closed, sighing as he preps for a long nap.

Georgette, satisfied with her expedition, shuffles her wings and plops next to the wire, settling downfor her own sleep. Georgette likes her chances, what with her guard dog being so close.

The rest of hens, still moving as a big flock, slowly waddle over to her and Heath. They eventually settle down, eyes closing as they press up against the wire.

The sight makes your heart nearly explode with cuteness and you regret not grabbing your phone when you hopped out of bed.

Speaking of which, a winter breeze reminds you of how underdressed you are, so you move back to the warm inside. Not before pulling up your recliner, a quilt, and a cup of water up to the back door, keeping it cracked just a bit.

You just mean to watch them for a bit, enjoy the night air and the peace. But you find yourself dozing off rather quickly, head tucked into your quilt, falling into an easy sleep.

Heath pops one eye open, watching your snoring figure curl up into the recliner.

His tail wags, just a little bit.

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

The next morning, you wake up with a sore neck and a cup of hot tea by your side, the sound of some dishes in the kitchen. Heath either moved to the bed last night or woke up very early, your chickens back in their hutches.

Breakfast is quiet as usual, same as the rest of the day, but when night comes Heath is back out on your porch and you're in your chair. You had the sense to bring your Switch with you this time; Not wanting to bother Heath with chit chat but also not willing to risk another crick in your neck from sleeping in your recliner.

You try to keep the volume down, not letting out your normal amount of expletives as the boss kills you for a second time. Heath’s ears are just too good however, and he turns his head  when he hears you mutter a ‘fuck’.

You shrug, mouthing a ‘sorry’, and Heath just rolls his eyes. He stands up, shaking out his limbs before he nudges open the back door with his muzzle. His wolf form stands about as tall as the side of your recliner, his chin resting on the arm as he looks at the console.

“Not much going on today, huh?”

He huffs, giving the closest approximation to a ‘yeah’ as he sits down, head still resting on the arm chair. You turn back toward your Switch.

“Have you ever played this game before?”

Another huff, a ‘no’, you’re getting pretty good at reading his signals.

“It’s not that hard, I just suck ass at video games.” A cutscene starts as your character enters the battleground. You turn up the volume, the deep voice of your enemy congratulating you on making it this far. You laugh, “Bet you wouldn’t say that if you knew this was my third time, bud.”

The battle starts, background music and the clicking of buttons filling the silence. You try to keep your focus on the fight, you really didn’t need any handicaps for this boss, but you can’t help glancing over at Heath every once in a while. While you had expected him to watch, find something to pass the time, you didn’t expect his gaze to be so…entranced. His pupils were dilated and his ears flicked back and forth with the music. The boss lands a pretty gnarly blow on you and Heath sucks in a breath.

You’ve lost almost half your health and are out of healing potions. You might’ve given up at this point, ride out the rest of the battle half-heartedly and hope for a better next-time. But your audience spurs you onward, finger muscles beginning to ache as you furiously press the controller.

There's a collective sigh as the dramatic ‘GAME OVER’ flashes across the screen, then tension in your neck loosening as you set down the switch. You stretch out your fingers, knuckles red from the stress and the cold breeze blowing in from outside. A wet nose pushes against your wrist and you look down at Heath.

He’s clearly trying to mitigate his excitement, but his wagging tail tells all; He’s invested in this fight now too, and he wants you to give it another go. You smile, brushing a hand over his muzzle. Oddly, he doesn’t push you away.

“Do you want a shot?” Heath’s brow furrows, shooting a quick look towards the door. “Nothing’s come all night, I think we can spare boss battle.” Heath huffs, almost a laugh, before taking his head off the arm chair. He shakes his shoulders, body and fur already begging to ripple with the shift. Your face darkens as a blush creeps up. “Uh, you might need some clothes there, bud.”

Heath rolls his eyes but trots off to his room anyway, tail leisurely swinging behind him.

He comes out in a t-shirt too small and sweats too big and you look away before you can check him out; Stupid stubborn werewolf, being stupidly handsome.

You hand Heath the Switch and sit on the arm of the recliner, throwing the blanket over you both as he settles into the chair. The position you're in cranes your neck and spine in an awkward way, but it’s the only way you can see the screen without snuggling with Heath.

You give Heath a short run down in controls, pointing out the save area he can practice a bit in. Heath just gives you a playful smirk.

“No offense, but I think I’ve seen you lose enough times to figure out my strategy.” You respond with a little punch in the shoulder, which doesn’t move him an inch.

“Alright, hot shot. Do your worst.”

The boss music plays as the character walks in, probably wondering why they’re trying this for the fourth time, and the battle begins.

To his credit Heath is already doing way better than you. His long fingers allow for quicker reaction time and he already understands a lot of the bosses' attacks. You want to be annoyed by it, but you're too focused on the fight to even care.

“Fuck, watch out for the sentries!” You whisper-yell, Heath way ahead as his character rolls out of the way. Both of your heads crane forward when the battle moves into the second phase; It’s uncharted territory and who knows what will come next.

“How does this jackass-” Click “-have so many goddamn-”Click Click Click “-minions! God, fucking-” An unusually devoted lackey stabs Heath in the back, another attack from the boss depleting the rest of the health. “-shit!” Heath and you fall back into the chair, another “GAME OVER” flashing on the screen. Heath growls a bit, hearing the boss bid a snide remark before he respawns outside the battle.

“Oh my god, you were so close.”

“Seriously! Next time, I’m going for those minions fucking throats. No mercy.”

You chuckle, head lolling to the side and onto Heath’s shoulder. The adrenaline rush is slowly fading, your eyes feeling heavy, and you unconsciously snuggle yourself closer to his side. Heath’s body radiates heat, like a warm quilt or a space heater.

Heath nearly flinches as your hip pushes into his rib cage, the smell of your freshly-washed hair floating across his senses.

Maybe it’s the fact it’s getting late, or that he’s too exhausted from the abrupt ride of the past few days, but Heath finds he doesn’t mind it that much. It’s nice, it’s relaxing, it’s….comfortable.

The next battle is just as intense, you giving commentary to Heath’s frustrated playing. But as it goes on, you sink deeper and deeper into the chair and closer to Heath’s side, going from relaxing in the arm to sharing half of the seat. You don’t seem to notice or care too much, but Heath is aware of every moment.

It’s hard to focus on the boss with your side pressed up against him, soft and so careful. It might be the softest touch Heath has ever felt in his life, his mind overloading with how to deal with it.

He loses, swearing as he sets down the console.

“Jeez, how can you even-”

Heath turns to look at you, shocked by your head resting against his shoulder, even closer than he realized. You seem to have just slid into sleep, your breathing slow and even as your head lulls downward. Heath instinctively lags it back against his body, his heart stuttering when you snuggle deeper into him.

You’ve had a long two days as well. He’ll let you sleep.

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

The next morning you wake up, tucked into your bed. You don’t remember falling asleep, nor putting a cup of water on your nightstand.

All you remember is warmth, a familiar smell of pine and fur, and the feeling of someone rubbing your back.

The blush comes before you can stop it.

Oh god, I am so fucked.

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

At breakfast, Heath cracks the eggs, toasts the bread and cleans the pans. You toss everything together and make a semblance of a meal. It’s enjoyed in a peaceful quiet, watching the rising sun before you start your chores.

When you finish for the day, you see a tidy living room and three steaks set out to defrost. Heath sits on the couch, trying once more to beat the boss.

You give him a thanks, he says “Don’t mention it.”

The two of you sit out on the porch at night, kitchen cleaned and bellies full. Your chairs are close, close enough to share a blanket and your Switch. You show Heath some simpler platformers and a colorful rhythm game, but the two of you eventually make it back to the boss. You both lose, again.

It’s easier to fall into a routine than you’d thought; You have breakfast, get your chores done, eat lunch, then hang out until dinner and guard duty. Sometimes the two of you just sit in the living room, doing your own thing, sometimes you banter and bicker for hours on end about nothing.

You offer to brush his tail one of those afternoons and although he hesitates at first, he gives in rather quickly. You hum a background track from your favorite video game as you do, telling him all about the new method which should help you kill that boss. Heath scoffs.

“Fuck that, I could do it only my own.” He says, recline back onto the pallet you set on the ground. You roll your eyes.

“Last night says otherwise, but okay.”

Heath shifts onto his elbows, glaring at you.

“Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Yes, yes I am.” Heath throws one of the pillows at you. You laugh in shock and throw another one right back at him, hand still firm on his tail. “It isn’t good practice to threaten the one with the weapon, now is it?” You taunt, shaking the brush in your hand. Heath dramatically whimpers and pretends to cower in fear.

“Oh no, whatever shall I do.” You throw another pillow at his face. “Hey!”

Heath offers to collect the eggs and clean the hen pen in the mornings, with the excuse that it’s a way for him to get some sunlight and let out some energy. But you can hear the way he coos and makes nicknames for the ladies. Although the chickens stutter around him at first, soon they're eating out of the palms of his hand.

What a lady killer. You simper, letting yourself fall deeper and deeper.

On the fourth night you guys forego pretending to be on guard duty, throw cozy blankets and a bucket of popcorn on the couch for a movie night. Heath’s movie knowledge is tragically low (for you at least), and you intend to change that, starting with Back to the Future.

“Y’know, they actually cast another guy for Marty Mcfly.” You mutter, busting out what might be your fifth fun fact of the night.“They actually got up to six weeks of filming before they cast him. They even reused some shots and just added some close ups of Michael J. Fox to make it seem like he was in the scene.”

Heath hums, stuffing his face with another handful of popcorn. “Only you would study up before watching a movie, nerd.”

You throw popcorn at Heath's face, which he smugly catches in his mouth. You flip him off as he laughs and uses a pillow to block himself from incoming popcorn attacks.

There’s a barrier that’s been broken, whittled down over shared meals and video games. Heath doesn’t even react when you fall asleep on his shoulder near the end of the movie, your snoring surprisingly cute.

He thinks he can get used to this; You, him, the chickens, and this house. Same scenery day by day, not constantly wondering where his next hunt will come from.

If he was going to survive tomorrow.

The credits roll and Heath doesn’t move. He pulls up the quilts and runs his claws through your hair, admiring your peaceful expression. Heath let’s himself rest, let’s himself feel peace for the first time in a while.

It’s on the fifth day that the hunters come back.

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

You're taking out the trash when you see the pick up truck. The blue, far too big and rusted to all hell pick up truck that Robert loves to the moon and back.

A part of you says to run into the house, another says that would be too suspicious. Another part wonders if Heath is within shooting range from the kitchen window, doing the dishes as your speakers blast.

It's with trembling hands that you close the trash can, walking towards your front porch, trying to act like you aren’t about to have a panic attack. You stop at your front door and keep your hand poised on the knob. Robert steps out of his truck and you try your best to fake a polite smile.

“Morning, Robert. Dreadful weather we’re having, ain’t it?”

Robert gives an agreeable hum, brushing off his jeans before he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Yup. Farm work’s been a bitch this week.”

His eyes glance around your porch and if you were more naive you’d think he was admiring your yard work. But you know what he’s here for, who he’s looking for.

A cursory glance to his windshield says he came alone, nobody hiding in the back or even stowing away in the truck bed. Unless he has an inside pocket or a side holster, he’s not armed either. You’re not in hot water, yet.

“Bummer. I know when-“

“Is he here?”

A vice grips your heart, hand frozen. You take a breath and lie.

“Who?”

Robert sighs, afraid that you would say something like that.

“You know who, ____”

You’re tempted to lie, lie badly, again. But you're not sure how stalling would help; Heath is in the kitchen and it would be too suspicious for you to shout. It’s time to rip the bandaid off.

“And why does it matter? This is my house, isn’t it?”

Robert rubs his forehead, a cloud of breath chilled by the morning air.

“I know what you think, but you need to listen to me.”

“Who my guests are is none of your fucking business, Robert. Not if they haven’t done anything wrong. So,” You turn the door knob, opening it just the slightest, not giving Robert a view inside the house. “Unless you come back with a warrant, I think we are done here.”

The doorframe shakes a bit when Robert slams his hand on the door, stopping you from going any further. He at least has the decency to look ashamed when you flinch, pulling yourself away from him and pressing your back against the frame. His hand relaxes, but doesn’t leave the surface of the door.

“I know you're a good person, ____.” Robert whispers, eyes darting from you to inside. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but that sweet heart of yours isn't helping right now. You need to hand him over.” Still keeping an eye on your house, pupils shooting back and forth for the dangerous werewolf inside, Robert takes a step back. You let yourself breathe for a second. “We’ll take care of it, it’ll be over soon and you can get him out of your house.”

The cold air brings color to your shaky breath, your shivers from fear and the cold morning slightly rattling the frame behind you. You take another trembling breath, finding it hard to look Robert in the eyes. He’s a good guy, you know he wouldn’t hurt you.

But my god, you are so fucking angry,

“Thanks for the advice, Robert.” You spit out, staring at his dirty steel-toed boots in contempt. “Anything else this poor sweet heart needs to know? Anything else I’m too stupid to see, hmm?“

You can feel heat traveling up your collarbone as you glare at Robert, feeling a tinge of satisfaction when he takes another step back. “____, I didn’t say that-”

“I know damn well what you 're trying to say, Robert. Unlike what you and your boys seem to think, I’m pretty damn good at reading between the lines.” You take a step away from the frame, losing how grounded the wood behind made you feel. Everything feels red, feels hot, and you’re too pissed for caution anymore. “So how about you tell this sweet heart exactly what she’s missing, huh? What else about my life do you know so much more about me anyway?” Robert’s boot heel crunches in the frosty grass of your lawn, looking up at you from the top of your porch steps. “Tell me what that poor man has ever done to you. Tell me that while he’s been watching over my chickens, helping me do the dishes, and enjoying the first warm meal of his life that he’s been moonlighting as a big bad wolf!” Your slippers stomp down the steps as you stick a finger into Robert's chest. “How about you tell me what else my sweet heart has blinded me too, or else I’m gonna start thinking you're telling me all this hullabaloo has been over nothing. That some dumbasses who call themselves heroes worked themselves into a fit over a rumor, and now are trying to drag me into their shit. So you better start telling some really juicy stuff right now.” You don’t know it, but you’ve pushed Robert almost all the way back to his truck, wetting your sweatpant bottoms with dew. “Because unlike you folks, I’m not going to throw anybody out in the cold and shoot them for a piss-poor reason like that.”

There’s a certain quietness to the morning. Even as your chest heaves with anger, breath pouring out in steamy clouds, the lack of birds chirping and your faucet running brings a certain peace to the scene.

Robert’s eyes are wide, his body laying it’s weight against the hood of his truck when you take your finger off his chest. His hands are clenched shut, his knuckles white and his fingertips bright red. Your anger slowly simmers back down your body and back into your chest, Robert exhaling a breath as you give him his space.

“I, I didn’t-” He mutters and you’re ready to hear another excuse. But his hands unfurl, his body slumping against the truck as he refuses to meet your eye.

The pause is long enough that you begin to feel the chill deep into your slippers, goosebumps peppering across your skin when a cold breeze goes by. Robert finally meets your gaze.

“We only saw the wolf, not him, not the man.” He whispers. “You’re the only one who knows what he looks like.” Robert straightens himself up, fidgeting with his coat and tucking his hands back into his pockets. “I can tell the guys that I chased him off, that he-he turned tail and ran when I showed up.” You see Robert's hands fidget in his pocket, pulling out his truck keys. He tosses them a bit in his palm, a fish shaped can opener looking extra bright in the sun.

“Just, come up with something. If you set the groundwork, slowly, then he could be safe, at least in town.”

You nod, taking a step back and gesturing towards Robert’s truck. He wets his lips before walking to his truck door.

You mouth a “Thank you” as Robert drives away. His smile is a tiny, sort of sad; For who, you’re not sure.

The walk back to your house might as well have been a mile; The adrenaline and the screaming has finally left you and all that’s left is exhaustion. Your hands tremble with the thought of what you just did, both from anxiety and delight. Either way, you could really go for some hot chocolate right now.

“Why?”

You’re jolted out of your own thoughts by Heath, standing in the entryway to your kitchen. His hair is tied back into a loose ponytail, his hands still wet from washing the dishes. Your brow furrows.

“What?”

“Why, why did you do that? You could’ve-” Heath’s voice is shaky, but it slowly rises in volume, “You could’ve gotten hurt, ____! He could’ve had a knife, or one of those guns, he could’ve attacked you!” Heath runs a hand through his hair, his dark claws scratching against his scalp. “You should’ve just-You could’ve just-” Heath throws his head in his hands and you can see the hint of his tail behind him. It flicks back and forth, anxious and agitated. “I don’t know what I’d do if he hurt you. What would happen to the chickens, the house? Why didn’t you just let him take me?”

You take a couple steps forward, having heard this all before. You don’t want to fight, you don’t have the energy for it. Heath is too lost in his own mind to notice you approaching. “I can handle him, any of them. It’s my fault they're here. I’m strong enough, I can protect myself. I can protect us. So why did you-”

Your hand brushes against Heath’s cheek, enough that he pauses his rant and focuses on you. You can see the slit of his eyes fading into yellow, the pupil widening into a circle when he looks at you.

With a quick movement you grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to your height and kissing him.

It’s short, a messy mash of a peck that ends as quick as it started. You can feel your cheeks burn as you look into Heath’s eyes; They’re hazy, a bit in shock. Before you can lose your courage you lay your forehead against his, whispering.

“Because I care about you, you idiot.”

There’s a heavy breath, refusing to back down from his gaze, despite the crawling nerves on your shoulders. You’ve already made the first move, finally admitted the bubbling feelings that have lingered in your heart these past few days. You can’t back down now. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

To give Heath credit, his surprise kiss is far more graceful than yours.

It’s longer, his lips molding to yours without even clacking your teeth together. His hand runs up the side of your neck, pulling your bodies even closer together. You separate with a tiny pop, chests still pressed up against one another.

“I do. I do and I, I will-” Heath gathers himself, a frustrated growl leaving his throat as he tries to find the right words. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. But I swear to you, I will pay it forward a thousand times.”

You smile, admiring this mountain of man laying out his heart for you, acting as if he isn’t the toughest person you know.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Heath smiles, that same cocky smile that waltzed into your town and almost got himself killed. Maybe it should be annoying, but it sets your heart ablaze. “But I want to.”

[duskholland]

omg for the boxer!tom request like he comes home after a tough match and reader patches him up and it’s all fluff

cw: minor depictions of injury, light angst, fluff || boxer!tom x gn!reader || 1.1k.

boxer!tom fever week !!!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom had shot you a text shortly after his match, giving you the basics: the fight had gone badly, he’s battered and he’s bruised, and his chances at making the championship rounds have just been made significantly harder. You could tell through his brevity and the lack of cluttered emojis that he’s feeling defeated, but nothing could’ve prepared you to see quite how destroyed he is as he hobbles into your flat a little after midnight, groaning so loudly you can hear him from the bedroom.

With concern hanging heavy in your chest, you hurry through to the entryway. Tom slumps against the front door the second his eyes snap to you, his posture falling flat as a pained sigh slips past his lips.

He looks… rough. You don’t think it’d ever be possible to describe your boyfriend as looking bad, but bruises are forming on his face, and his hair is matted, and patches of blood accompany the sheen of sweat that coats his forehead. It’s clear that the match had been a lot worse than he’d made out.

“Shit,” you murmur, “what the hell happened, Tom?”

He groans. He straightens up against the door and winces as he tries to push his sticky curls away from his face.

“I was a fucking laugh, that’s what,” he mutters. “That was the worst match of my life.” He buries his face in his hands and moans loudly. “God,” he says, “I fucked it.”

Your heart breaks a little in your chest. For so long, Tom’s been putting in the work, trying desperately to progress through the ranks and make it to the top. The defeat tonight doesn’t mean it’s all for nothing, but it’s certainly a setback, even more mentally than statistically.

Aching to help him, you step forward and tentatively guide the hands away from his face. He’s hot to touch, his knuckles coated in tired bruises, and you’re careful not to hurt him as you softly squeeze his hands.

“C’mon,” you coax, “I’ll clean you up, baby.”

Tom begrudgingly trails after you, his feet dragging slightly on the floor as you take him through to the kitchen. You help him up onto the counter and leave him with a glass of water as you go to fetch the first aid kit. You keep only the essentials at home, usually relying on either Tom’s coach or trainer take care of serious injuries at the gym, but it seems like Tom must’ve legged it before either of them could register the bruising and the minor lacerations on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says the moment you enter the room again. You glance up, your brows furrowing as you see the expression of guilt laced across his features. “I’m being such a… such a shit boyfriend right now.” The tip of his nose scrunches up as he groans. “I can do this all myself, you don’t need to—”

You reach out and press your hands into his bare knees. “I want to,” you soothe, “I want to help you feel better, Tommy. I love you.” You lean up and kiss him softly. “Plus,” you add, smiling slightly against his mouth, “I think we both know I’m a lot better at this than you.”

Tom tuts his tongue, but he doesn’t move to dispute you. His eyes are sparkling a little brighter now. “Whatever,” he teases, “I know you really just want to get your hands all over me.”

You snort. “Damn straight, baby,” you return. You try to distract him with a few further kisses as you soak a ball of cotton wool in some disinfectant. “This might sting a bit,” you warn, and before he can have time to dodge the wool, you gently dab it across his cheek.

Tom winces as you clean the cut on his face, attending to the nasty swipe of knuckles across his cheek. You wonder how intense the fight must’ve become to draw blood and find yourself shuddering at the thought. Usually, you try to be there for his matches, but you’d had plans earlier in the evening. Part of you is glad you’d missed the sight of your boyfriend being served such grisly treatment: you can’t bear the sight of him in pain, hate even now the small whimpers that slip past his lips.

“Y/N,” he whines, his eyes screwed shut, “can I hold your hand?”

You have to catch the endeared chuckle before it slips past your lips. “Of course you can,” you say. You reach down and slip your fingers into his, and Tom exhales at the contact.

“Thank you.”

It’s slower work with one of your hands out of action, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Tom’s grip on your fingers waxes and wanes as you clean up the rest of him, indicating when you need to go faster, go slower.

It doesn’t take long before he’s distracting himself by fluttering his lips across your knuckles, his warm mouth bouncing over your skin as he kisses your hand over and over again. Despite having his eyes shut, Tom doesn’t hesitate to tell you how lovely he thinks you are. He repeatedly says how much he loves you and loves spending time with you, how you’d been the only thing on his mind during his match. He flatters you until you’re beaming, heaps on more words of praise even as you try to rebuke him. He seems to cheer up the longer he sits with your hands clasped together.

“You,” you whisper, “are such a flirt, Tom.” You finish off your work by pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m finished, by the way.”

Tom opens his eyes. They’re slightly watery, but they lighten as they meet with yours. “Thank you,” he releases. He takes your other hand in his.

“You’re gonna be stiff,” you warn, “maybe a bath might help?”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Are you volunteering to keep me company?” he asks, throwing out a lopsided grin. “Because I’m— I’m so weak, darling.” He feigns a cough. “I might slip if you let me go alone.”

Your smile drifts into a smirk as you help him down from the counter. Tom immediately falls into your side, and you wrap an arm around his figure to help him.

“Well, I can’t be having that,” you say, “I’m pretty fond of you, y’know?”

Tom presses his lips against your forehead. “I’m quite fond of you too, darling,” he says. He kisses you again, this time landing his mouth on yours. “Thank you for being the best partner I could ever ask for.” He pauses and squeezes your waist. “I love you.”

You return the affection by drawing a hand through his hair, your fingertips slipping across his gentle curls. “I love you too,” you whisper. You pause for just a moment to marvel at how warm he feels as he leans up against you. “C’mon,” you coax, “let’s go have a bath.”

[shhh-no-ones-home]

personal jesus* frank castle x reader

+++++++++

I don't usually add these disclaimers but this fic is nothing really close to anything I've written before so we'll add 'em anyway. And usually my stories are between 800 and 2500 words but I've exceeded that on this one so I'll add that too.

Wc: 2741

Warnings: canon level blood and gore mention, stitching him up, bad words, smut, and the likeness. It's very vulgar.

*- this is nothing but smut. Porn with a little bit of plot basically. Thigh riding, nipple play, not really a blood kink but like maybe if you squint, dick riding, unprotected p in v (please use protection in real life), and I think that's it. Enjoy 🥴

Song: joker and the thief by wolfmother

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I sat on the couch reading, enjoying my late Saturday evening, the coffee sat under the lamp next to me long forgotten. I was all but consumed and was ready to ignore my alarm telling me to go to bed in the next couple minutes. It was almost midnight but I was determined to finish this book. After all, I only had twelve chapters left. Work could wait.

I flipped the page, new chapter, alarm began to ring. I turned it off and kept reading. Turned my attention to the next page and there was a knock at my door. I rolled my eyes. It's midnight, it couldn't be anyone that important. I flipped the page. Then the banging on the door started. Once, then another time, then another.

"Alright, I'm coming."

I mumbled under my breath, setting the bookmark in the spine and setting the book next to the mug on the side table. There was another slam of a fist against my door as I peaked through the peephole. It was frank and he didn't look great.

"Shit."

I mumbled under my breath as I fiddled with the door chain quickly. In a matter of rushed seconds the door was open and he was stumbling forward into my arms.

"What the fuck frank?"

I inquired a little annoyed, kicking the door closed and walking him to the kitchen table.

"I was gonna go home but your place was closer."

He groaned as I set him in the leather chair.

"And if I don't get this taken care of I'm gonna bleed out."

His voice was gruff, head dropping back against the back of the chair as I assessed him. He was covered in blood and I couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. But knowing him it was probably a mixture of both. But as my gaze traveled up his torso and to his neck I noticed something.

"How far down does this go?"

I asked, touching the cut lightly with my finger tips and he jolted upright, grabbing my hand tightly in his own.

"I can't fix it if you don't let me at least see it."

I said and he let out a long shaky breath.

"Start with something else first."

He demanded, voice deep and strained like he'd been yelling. I shook my head.

"I'll be right back."

I look over him one last time before disappearing down the hall. I got in the closet first, getting everything I needed out of it before going back to the kitchen and filling a bowl with warm water.

"So, how much of this is yours?"

I asked, pulling up a tv tray and setting the bowl on it, soaking a wash cloth. He sent me a look, resituating in his seat to get comfortable, legs spread wide and one hand resting on each thigh.

"No, answer, per usual. That's fine."

I mumbled under my breath as I got to work wiping the blood off his face. I was careful not to push on the bruises I could see, taking extra care around the cuts and scrapes. There was a small one under his left eye, another deep into the brow bone. That One he hissed at when I went over it. I shook my head.

"I need to see this at a batter angle."

I stated boldly before straddling his left thigh and tilting his head up and to the side for more light. He looked at me for a moment, holding his breath as I rinsed the rag and got back to work. It took him a second to let the air back out, when he realized I didn't care what he was doing beneath me.

"This must've been some fight."

I mentioned more to myself than anything. He stared back ahead of him, swallowing hard.

"You should see the other guy."

He said quietly and I snorted, wiping the remaining blood off his face.

"Something tells me he'll be in the paper later this week under that section in the back titled 'obituary'."

He side eyed me, tightening his jaw as I moved to open my kit. I started with q-tips and rubbing alcohol, and setting out a few small butterfly bandaids.

"This is gonna hurt."

I said and he huffed a laugh out, as if to say sarcastically 'and you think it didn't hurt when it happened?' But I just ignored it. I dipped the first q-tip into the alcohol and pressed it to the cut under his eye. He hissed and jerked away and I sent him a look.

"Sit still or it's gonna get infected."

He drew his brows at me before going back to where he was before.

"If it hurts that bad, just squeeze here."

I said, grabbing his hand that had been situated under me on his thigh and placing it against my hip.

"But don't move."

I said firmly, holding his jaw tightly with one hand and getting back to work. His breathing was unsteady as I ran a new qtip dipped in alcohol over the cut. It was still trying to scab so I was getting more coagulated blood than I had originally bargained for. He kept his jaw locked in place as I added the bandaid to the cut under his eye. Now onto the brow bone. It was deeper, still running blood down and almost into his eye. It was a race between me and it and luckily I was winning. When I touched it with the qtip he squeezed my hip so tightly i made a pained noise.

"Shit."

We said in unison and I shook my head.

"Sit still."

I said annoyed, grabbing another bandaid and positioning it around his eyebrow. When it was on I moved his head again via his jaw to make sure there weren't any more. I had cleaned all the blood off already and the only traces of the fight that were left were the deep purple and yellow bruises littered under his left eye and across his nose and right cheek. I nodded once in content before pushing his head to look up and inspecting the deep cut that started at the base of his jaw and got thicker the further under his shirt collar it got.

"I need to look at this now."

I said and he sighed.

"Fine but don't do that shit you just did to my face."

I rolled my eyes.

"Big baby."

He glared at me before letting his death grip on me go and lifting his shirt. My eyes went wide as his shirt hit the table in a wet heap. The cut went all the way to his sternum and was all but gushing blood.

"Why the fuck didn't we start with this?!?"

I said in a loud, angry tone, looking from the cut to his face.

"Didnt want you to worry."

He managed and I shook my head, getting my stuff out quickly.

"No, you don't get to do that. All this time and you could've been dead in my kitchen."

I said a little more pissed off than I meant. I started again by wiping the blood away, holding a dry wash cloth to his chest to stop it from bleeding more.

"Hold this, lots of pressure."

I instructed, his right hand coming up and doing as told. His left hand went back to my side as I started cleaning the small part of the cut at his jaw.

"What did you do frank?"

I inquired, again more as a 'thinking out loud' than looking for an actual answer.

"I backed up before he could run me all the way through. Damn ninja. Sliced up, almost took my fucking ear off."

I sent him a look, one he returned as I cleaned the thinner part of the cut, adding butterfly bandaids; two on his throat, one on his collar bone, one just below it on the edge of his peck.

"That's gonna need stitches."

He sighed, sinking further into the chair and his lower stomach pressing against my thighs.

"Alright. Let's get it over with."

He complied and i bit my tongue. I quickly got everything out, sterilized the needle and he moved his hand. It was still bleeding and I knew this would be messy. I leaned forward to get a better look and his hand went with my hip.

"Why don't you just sit."

He said and I looked up to him, brows drawn.

"What?"

I asked and he rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips but it was barely there.

"Sit."

He said, grabbing my waist and pushing me down onto his leg. I made a surprised noise and he laughed, groaning a bit.

"fine, but don't move, I don't want to make it worse."

He stared down at me intently as I got to work stitching him up. His gaze was intense and he kept his iron grip on my hip the entire time. I would be flustered if I weren't so focused. The stitches were barely helping as I sewed against his chest. It was still bleeding a lot. And when the stitches were done it seemed like I had more work to do than when I started. I moved to clean it and he caught my hand.

"Is that really necessary?"

He asked and I deadpanned.

"Yes frank now let go."

I said sternly and he did, brows drawn as I poured the alcohol over his chest. He hissed, throwing his head back as he bruised my hip more. The blood ran freely down his torso as he breathed heavily, it rippling against his abs as they tensed. I took another dry rag and wiped it off. The bleeding was starting to slow now that the cut was together and I was more relieved. He looked back down at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"Shit woman you sure know how to do a number on me."

I smirked at him as I leaned over and put the stuff back on the tv tray.

"I've had a lot of practice."

I said a little cocky and he smiled.

"Good thing too."

He said and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You're a menace frank castle. But I wouldn't want it any other way."

He just stared at me for a second and then I realized I was still sitting on him and should probably get up before it gets weird. I placed my hands at his shoulders and tried but he still had a grip on me that was prohibiting me from doing so.

"Frank?"

I asked and in a second his lips were against my own. It was then that I'd realized he had a cut on his lip. He tasted like iron and hissed through his teeth when I ran my tongue across it. I smiled against him but he kept going. It was needy and rushed and everything I had imagined it would be. Not that I had thought about it often but he wound up in my apartment covered in blood a couple times a month so I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind once or twice.

"Frank."

I moaned against him as he kissed the side of my mouth, then my jaw, then across my neck. My arms were around his shoulders now, holding on for dear life as his hands roamed my body. I adjusted against his thigh and he growled against my ear, his hands guiding me to do it again. I did it without even thinking, pressing my core further against him if that was even possible. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter and before I knew what was happening my own blood soaked shirt was off and sitting next to his on the glass table.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while."

He confessed through staggered breaths as he undid my bra, his mouth traveling across my collar bone and down my chest. Then my nipple was in his mouth and I was moaning again. I scratched lightly at the back of his head with one hand and trailed my finger tips down his torso with the other, being careful not to touch the cut. As I got further down his motions slowed, and when I began palming him through his jeans he rested his forehead against my chest and breathed heavily.

"Shit."

He breathed out and I laughed, his hips pushing up to meet my hand. He was already hard and I could tell he wanted more. As I undid his pants he sat back upright, kissing me again like his life depended on it. It was just as harsh and sloppy as before but he froze when I took him out of his pants, stroking him lightly. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open and I could feel his hands at my thighs trying to push into my pajamas shorts. I kissed across his face, feeling his hot breath fan over my jaw and neck.

"Need you. Now."

He said, finally looking at me. His pupils were blown out and his eyes were black with lust as he pulled my one leg over his right one so I was sitting on his lap properly now. I kissed him again as he pushed my shorts and panties to the side, holding me against him. I looked down long enough to line him up and sank down onto him. I moaned at the new feeling, watching as he dropped his head back against the chair, his brows knitted together as he screwed his eyes shut. I kissed across his exposed neck and chest as I moved on top of him. His legs were still spread wide beneath me, helping me out as I rode him.

"Shit. Faster."

He managed, looking back to me as his hands gripped my ass tightly.

"Yes sir."

I said playfully, and he groaned. As I did as told he slapped my ass and I squealed in surprise, clenching around him. He screwed his brows together, watching my every move with intent as I bounced on top of him quickly.

"Frank."

I moaned, reaching down to circle my clit as he kept me steady on top of him.

"Keep going beautiful."

He encouraged and I dropped my head back, feeling the knot build in my stomach.

"Frank."

I whined again, my legs beginning to shake.

"Just a little bit more."

He grunted out, thrusting up to meet me as my movements got slower.

"Oh god."

I said panicked, as I felt closer, him pounding up into me.

"Oh my god."

I yelled as my body shook, my orgasm ripping through my body, pussy clenching around him. He held me close as I shook on top of him, riding out my high as he chased his own.

"Y/n."

He moaned, his thrusts getting harsher.

"Y/n."

He said a little louder and I could hear the chair creak. I lifted up and dropped to meet him and he moaned loudly against my neck, hand placed firmly at my back as he came in me. I could feel him twitch against my walls as his pace slowed. We both breathed heavily, sporadically, as we calmed down. We still had a death grip on each other, my arms around his shoulders, his arms around my waist, our heads pressed against one another. It was like the aftermath of a hurricane.

"Thanks."

I said through a breathy laugh and he sat up, brows drawn in confusion. His hands were at my hips now and I could feel him going soft in me.

"For what?"

"For the great ride cowboy."

I said with a wink and he smiled, shaking his head at me.

"Is that a fair trade off?"

He asked and I shrugged.

"I stitch you up and you cum in me, I don't know if that has the same affect."

He laughed, kissing my cheek.

"Would it make it better if I helped clean up?"

He asked, gazing up at me, an innocence to him that I hadn't seen before.

"How about this. We go take a shower to get this blood off both of us and then we'll see where that takes us."

He kissed my jaw, tracing his fingers lightly up my back.

"Sure thing doc."

[blitzturtles]

Title: Fever (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba, AbbaBru, (Platonic) Bucci Gang

Summary: “Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own.

Notes: For Day 1 of Sicktember, "Fever", because I never do anything on time. @sicktember

The morning goes like any other. One by one, the Don’s closest filter into the kitchen to get their first cup of coffee and whatever they feel like scrounging up for breakfast. There’s mundane conversation between the more wakeful lot; they aren’t allowed to talk about work until everyone’s finished their meals, which means the conversation doesn’t get much more interesting than whatever they’ve managed to get up to since the night before. It’s an odd sort of rule, but it helps to ensure that they can maintain some boundaries between their professional and personal lives, which further guarantees that they get more time together as a family, rather than as a team.

“Hey, so… where’s Booch?” Mista asks, leaning back in his seat.

All eyes are on him suddenly, before they gravitate to the chair that Bucciarati frequently takes up as his own. It’s empty with no sign that the man has made it downstairs, despite their designated breakfast time ticking by.

Narancia elbows Abbacchio to get his attention when he doesn’t seem to pick up on the same thing the rest of them have. He makes a motion for Abbacchio to take off his headphones and repeats the question.

“How should I know?” Abbacchio deflects with practiced ease, but there’s an edge to his tone. Sharper than even his usual morning demeanor calls for, and it’s clear--from the way his eyes fixate on Bucciarati’s spot--that he’s as concerned as the rest of them.

“You sleep in the same room,” Fugo points out, matter-of-fact and oblivious to the daggers that Abbacchio shoots in his direction.

“Yeah, well--” Abbacchio falters. He doesn’t actually have a reply for that.

“Maybe we should go check on him?” Trish asks, ever the most reasonable of the bunch, aside from perhaps Giorno.

“You don’t need to go… crowding him,” Abbacchio trails off as Mista and Narancia race out of their seats, already making a beeline for the stairs. He sighs and gets up to follow them.

What he doesn’t tell the group won’t hurt them. They don’t need to know that Bruno had been complaining of a headache the night before, or that he crashed unusually early. Or that he had been less than compliant about waking up with Abbacchio.

“So much for ‘just a headache’,” Abbacchio mutters under his own breath as he follows the kids up the steps. He can hear the rest behind him, each as eager as the first two to check in on their once-leader. “Hey, knock it off,” he calls when he finds Mista and Narancia outside the door to their bedroom, banging on it obnoxiously.

“But he’s not answering!” Narancia whines, dramatic and loud.

“And you think this will help?” Abbacchio raises his eyebrows, but he moves to unlock the door. The moment he opens it, he can see what his tired eyes failed to notice earlier. Bruno’s face, as little of it that is visible, is bright pink. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and it’s obvious he’s been tossing and turning since Abbacchio left, which means he likely spiked a fever sometime recently.

Abbacchio ignores the kids in favor of making his way to the bed. He frowns at the dry, parted lips and the labored breathing that greet him. Bruno’s eyes haven’t so much as cracked open a hair, despite the sheer volume of Mista and Narancia. The rest of the gang catching up doesn’t seem to phase him either, even though none of them seems to be capable of shutting up.

Without thinking, Abbacchio undoes the clips that must have been left in from the night before. It speaks volumes to how poorly Bruno felt at the time. He always takes his hair down before bed, and Abbacchio isn’t sure how he missed that not-so-little detail.

“What’cha doing?” Narancia asks, startling Abbacchio out of his thoughts.

“He doesn’t like it when his hair gets sweaty,” Abbacchio explains without thinking. He splits Bruno’s bangs down the middle to pin them on either side of his face. It isn’t the most fashionable look, but it should hold.

“Guess you would know, huh?” Mista asks with a raised eyebrow.

Abbacchio feels his cheeks burn red at the suggestion, and he turns around to give the kid his best death glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mista throws his hands up quickly, “I was joking.”

“Don’t,” Abbacchio answers gruffly. He turns back to Bruno, trying to work out the best way to take out his top braid without disturbing him too much. He settles for loosening it instead, careful to avoid tugging it in a way that might pull. The point is to reduce the pressure, not add to his discomfort.

“He wears his hair down when he goes fishing,” Giorno speaks with such sincerity that it’s all Abbacchio can do not to snap at him, too. Plus, it would probably disappoint Bruno. If he were awake.

“Yeah, I pointed that out too. It’s weird.” Abbacchio shrugs. He would think that having your hair stuck to your skin with salt water would be worse than sweat, but he guesses that Bruno finds some nostalgia in it. He’s long given up on understanding certain things about his partner.

“I think it’s safe to say he’s sick,” Fugo points out, breaking the silence that follows. “We should probably get his fever down.”

“Right, yeah!” Narancia nods enthusiastically, then stops for a moment and looks dumbfounded, “How’d we do that?”

Fugo smacks him on the back of the head, “With medication and cold towels, obviously.”

“Hey!” Narancia spins on his heels, so he’s facing the other teen. He crowds in on Fugo until their chests are pressed together and Fugo’s reaching for something in one of his pockets.

“Cut it out!” Abbacchio snaps at both of them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders why he ever let the whole group up here in the first place. He’s more than capable of taking care of Bruno on his own, even if he had missed the earlier signs.

“I can go get medicine,” Trish says, a bit meek compared to her usual self, and she’s gone before anyone can say otherwise.

“I’ll go get towels?” Giorno looks uncertain. He’s never had to deal with anyone else’s illness before. Not like this, and he’s always taken care of himself while sick. Usually by pushing through until his body sorted itself out.

“I’ll go with you,” Fugo offers with a half-smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, and Giorno seems to take it as such.

Abbacchio’s just relieved to have less people around. Mista and Narancia linger, but he elects to ignore both of them in favor of tucking the blankets in around Bruno. The best thing for a fever is to sweat it out, after all.

By the time the other three get back, Narancia and Mista have made themselves busy by going in search of a thermometer. It’s really more like a competition between the two, but Abbacchio doesn’t care as long as it keeps them distracted.

“I brought some water, too,” Trish says as she extends her bounty to Abbacchio. In one hand is a bottle of water; in the other is the medication she must have scavenged her own medicine cabinet for. That or the Team first aid kit. There’s actually a few of those throughout the house, but Bruno’s the only one that bothers stocking them, and that’s only when he knows to. For the most part, they run out of supplies because someone uses them without remembering to say anything later.

“We got hand towels in a bowl of ice water. It should keep him going for a while,” Fugo explains as he nods to the bowl that Giorno’s carrying and deposits his collection of towels on one of the bedside tables. He takes one and unfolds it enough to make a thin strip out of it. He dunks it into the water and squeegees out the excess before handing it to Abbacchio.

“Thank you,” Abbacchio says, taking the towel and placing it gently on Bruno’s forehead. It’s worrisome that he hasn’t stirred in the slightest. That despite all the ruckus, he’s remained sound asleep. Part of Abbacchio wants to leave him that way, but he knows getting the fever reducer in him will help him faster than the towels will. He gently shakes his partner’s shoulder and calls his name until familiar blue finally peaks open.

Bruno’s eyes are red around the edges, and there’s no focus to them. He blinks at Abbacchio a few times. Slow and owlish.

“You’re sick,” Abbacchio explains with little to-do. “You just gotta take these, and you can go back to sleep.”

A quiet hum is all he gets in response, and it’s damn near enough to convince Abbacchio to take Bruno to the nearest hospital. He’s never known Bruno to be cooperative a day in his life. Not when it comes to being sick or injured, but he forces himself to be reasonable. To think logically. Bruno isn’t indestructible. He’s allowed to feel like shit, and that means he’s allowed to want nothing more than to be left alone to sleep off the worst of whatever bug he’s managed to catch.

“I know,” Abbacchio murmurs, more to himself than Bruno. He helps Bruno sit up enough to take the pills and helps him back to lying down after that. He fixes the blankets and puts the wet towel back on Bruno’s forehead. Once he’s all settled, it takes only seconds for Bruno to pass back out.

“It’s weird seeing him like this,” Fugo admits, quietly.

“I don’t like it,” Trish’s voice is somehow softer, but there’s more to it. Her tone holds something else, and Abbacchio curses himself for not picking up on it sooner.

“He’ll be fine,” he says, doing his best to be reassuring. The problem is that he generally isn’t. “It’s been awhile, but Bruno does get sick.”

“Yeah,” Fugo says quickly, eyes following Abbacchio’s. “He’ll be fine, probably by tomorrow. Besides, Giorno can help if he needs to, right?”

Giorno looks a little startled to be pulled into the conversation, but he’s quick to nod, “If there’s any kind of damage, I can replace it.”

“See? All good. You all should get to work. It’s late already,” Abbacchio points out. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t plan on leaving Bucciarati’s side, which means they’re down, not one, but two men for the day. “And, if you see Narancia or Mista, tell them to forget about the thermometer.” The best thing they can do for Bruno at this point is leave him alone and let him rest.

“Right, yeah, let’s--let’s do that,” Trish says, stumbling over her words as much as her feet. She’s quick to reach for the door, obviously relieved to be dismissed without having to do so herself. Abbacchio can’t blame her. He doesn’t like seeing Bruno like this either, but he doesn’t have a recently deceased-from-illness parent at the forefront of his brain. He knows how much that still eats at Bruno. He can only imagine what it does to a teenager whose memories of the event are fresh.

Fugo follows her with a simple nod of his head at Abbacchio. A small sign of his appreciation that someone is taking care of the man that he sees as his savior, even now. Abbacchio mimics the gesture in acknowledgement and almost turns his attention back to Bruno before he notices Giorno, lingering by the door.

“What?”

“It’s--” Giorno swallows, “It’s nothing. Take your time. We can work out whatever we need to until he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Abbacchio says with a tone that’s almost dismissive. Truthfully, he’s grateful for the permission. To hear it aloud rather than to think it to himself, but he won’t admit that. Least of all to Giorno. “Don’t forget to take the other two with you.”

“I will,” Giorno echoes with the slightest curve of his lips.

Cheeky little shit, Abbacchio thinks, but he watches Giorno with a near fondness reflecting in his gaze. It’s odd how much the little bastard has grown on him. Not, he supposes, unlike the rest of them. Maybe it’s all the time they spend together, given Abbacchio’s position in Investigations. Or maybe it’s the mutual concern for Bruno’s wellbeing. Whatever it is, Abbacchio’s glad the kid sees things his way. Just this once.

[writingtoforgetreality]

You’re So Golden - The Devil’s Daughter Chapter Eight (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader)

[Lucifer-Masterlist], [The Devil’s Daughter-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Dan had a surprise for you & you were more than thankful for it. But all good things came to an end. Though, you did not think it would be so soon. The inevitable was happening & this time, you had to deal with it all alone.

Words: 1,732

Warnings: language, incident, blood, Amenadiel shows up!, (Y/A) = your age

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The following days, you noticed Dan distancing himself from you. You did not accompany him to the precinct anymore. Pretty much all you did was sitting in Trixie’s room, contemplating what you did wrong to make Dan act that way. What you did not know, though, was that he was not even realizing that he did not pay that much attention to you anymore. His work was taking all his focus away from you. Finding jobs was a pain in the ass, by the way. It was impossible. They all wanted to know where you were coming from, what you were good at & so on. What were you good at? In heaven, there was not anything you could do. God made sure of that. Oh, you were good at playing board games but apparently that was not what people were looking for on Earth nowadays.

Dan had given you one of his old phones & his old laptop so you could look for jobs & write job applications while he was at work. These devices confused you at first, but soon you got the hang of it & you wondered why you had never had something similar in heaven. Your lonely days would have been filled with more interesting hours.

A ringing sound interrupted your research on your laptop. Looking around, you found your phone being the source of the noise. Grabbing it, you saw Dan’s name on screen. Huh...He had never called you when he was at work. Swiping your finger over the display, you greeted him right after raising the phone to your ear.

“Hey, Dan.”

“(Y/N)! Have you been successful with your job searching yet?”

“Nope.” sighing frustratingly. “Most of them say I’m too inexperienced.” you breathed out. It was not necessarily fair. After all, you did have experience in other stuff. Stuff people could only dream about. Not that you were planning on telling anyone, but still.

“Perfect.” Dan’s excitement could be heard through the phone. Cool, he was happy that you were unsuccessful. Just peachy.

“Rude.” if he were here with you right now, your look would kill him.

“No, no, wait. I didn’t mean it like that.” he stammered. “I asked the Lieutenant & he said if you’re interested you could be my personal assistant.” Dan finished & waited for your respone.

“You need a personal assistant?” a short laugh escaped you. He joined you in briefly before answering.

“I don’t but you need the money.” Dan reasoned. Well, you could not argue with him, he had a point.

“Fair enough.”

“We’ll talk later today when I come home, alright?” you nodded but he obviously could not see it. Bidding your goodbyes, you ended the phone call. Maybe Dan was not distant. Maybe he was just trying to get you a job.

It was still early afternoon so you had some time to kill. Residing in a kid’s bedroom when you, yourself, were (Y/A) years old was not necessarily convenient. Browsing the entire house would be rude, right? Well, you could take a shower. If you were to start your new job tomorrow, at least that was what you hoped, you could make sure your appearance was on point.

Walking into the bathroom, you locked the door after you. Maybe you were growing paranoid, you were alone after all. Better safe than sorry, though. After ridding yourself of your clothes, you could feel a bad migraine coming. Oh no. No, no, no. Shit, you had not thought of this. There was a difference between migraines & simple headaches. Headaches, you could deal with. Migraines, on the other hand…well, you could not. Not alone at least. The pain felt similar to someone wanting to crush in your skull. The worst part of it was that you knew this pain was nothing compared to what you were about to eperience. Your hands held your head tightly, trying to avoid the inevitable. The bathroom was big enough, you would not damage anything. Good, so Dan would most likely not find out. You wanted to keep it that way.

A loud scream echoed through the room & you were surprised that your voice could reach this volume. Hopefully, it was not that loud to grab the neighbors’ attention. A look in the mirror gave away what you were expecting. Golden wings were surrounding you. All the years in heaven had taught you to hate your wings. Yours were different. Not black like the ones from the other angels. And definitely not soft. No, yours were sharp. So sharp, they cut open your back each time you were showing them. Hence why you had tried controlling to keep them hidden. Sometimes, little things triggered you & you had to let them show, as much as you hated it. You could feel liquid running down your back & the cuts that the wings caused burned a lot. Tears were streaming down your face. It had not happened in so long, you were confused why it was happening now. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes & focused solely on your wings. Needing to retract your wings, you braced yourself for another wave of pain. This time, you only let out a wince. Shit, usually Michael, sometimes even Gabriel, helped cleaning & bandaging your wounds. But they were not here. And you had never done it yourself. Trying to get a look at your back through the mirror, you were shocked to say the least. It looked bad. Really bad. The cuts seemed deeper than usual. You hated looking at them. You hated the old, faded scars adorning your back even more, though.

Still, you decided to step into the shower. The warm water reached your wounds & you winced at the burning sensation. You had to think of a way to treat the cuts somehow. If you did not, Dan might find out & then it would lead to questions you were not ready to answer. Could not answer, actually. Because he would send you to an institution for lunatics. It was times like this when you wished Michael was here. Just for a while, so he could help you out.

When you finished your shower, you did not wrap a towel around your body. You would not risk getting blood on one of Dan’s towels. Rummaging through the cabinets, you were more than happy when you found what looked like a first aid kit. Trying to mimic what Mike had done many times, you began treating your wounds accordingly. It was a pain in the ass, though. Your arms were not long enough to reach every single cut but you did your best. It took you almost an hour & a lot of frustration but your back was cleaned & bandaged. You wondered if Michael would be proud of your work…

Chloe had brought you some of her old clothes over so you did not have to spend money on new ones. Pulling on something comfortable that you had brought with you in the bathroom, you looked yourself over once again. The shower managed to calm you down a bit & you were surprised when you found your eyes neither red nor puffy.

After spending way too much time in the bathroom, you were shocked when you still had some time left before Dan would be home. Grabbing your laptop, you sat down on the couch in the living room, trying so your back would not touch anything. It still hurt a lot. It usually did even days after such an incident. So once again, you had to play pretend in front of Dan. You were getting quite good at that, if you were honest. Before Dan came home, you could browse the internet for a while. What else would you be doing?

Your eyes shot towards the front door when you heard keys unlocking it. Sweet, Dan was home. Now you could talk about your job, if you could call it that.

“(Y/N)? I’m home.”

“Hi Dan.” smiling sweetly at him from where you were sitting.

“Exciting day?” he asked after pulling off his jacket & shoes. You gulped at that.

“Same old.” chuckling to hide how uncomfortable you were. “You?” oh, nice. You pulled a uno reverse card. Mentally, you were patting your own shoulder for coming up with that. It was better to shift the attention to Dan.

“Well, I got you a job which is pretty damn cool of me, might I add.” the both of you laughed at that. That was feeding his ego for sure. “But besides that, it was rather quiet at the precinct.” you nodded at him.

“Oh & Amenadiel is coming over in a bit. He needs help with his baby.” Dan walked into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for a fast meal he could cook for you & his friend who would pay him a visit.

“Amenadiel? What’s up with the names around here?” you asked, laughing at how weird people from LA were. You joined Dan in the kitchen & asked him if he needed any help. He gave you a task & immediately, you got to work.

Working on a meal together was faster than you thought & after you set the table, there was a knock on the door.

“I got it.” yelling at Dan who was changing in his room because he did not want to stay in his work clothes any longer. Opening the door, your eyes firstly fell to a baby sitting in a man’s arm. Then your eyes wandered up & you gave the stranger a welcoming smile. This had to be Amenadiel.

“Hi! Come in, Dan should be ready in a few.” you motioned for him to step inside but your smile slowly faltered when you noticed the look on his face. You could not quite pinpoint it but it sure left you uneasy.

“Hello.” his monotone voice was heard after a few moments of silence.

“Right, um, I guess you know your way inside.” you coughed & walked away quickly, trying to avoid more awkward conversations with this man. There was something about him…He stood in the doorway for a few seconds & watched you walk away. You were different. He did not know how but you were. And you were in Dan’s house. What were you doing here?

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/05/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @fandomqueen2003, @natashaashleymarvelromanoff, @severewobblerlightdragon, @tenderlyunlikelyexpert, @zoseph, @suffering-canucks-fan, @dad-ee-drea, @xbarrjallenx, @marvelofwitch, @aceofspace95, @julessbrown, @thevelvetseries, @kotkaniemi-caufield-mom, @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @strangewhovian-blog, @officialfictionalwreck, @peachescream06 (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[tuiccim]

Icing, cupcakes, and confusion

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1188

Summary: Fluff. Just stupid, ridiculous fluff because it’s what I need in my life right now.  

——————————————

"Hey, Doll." Bucky says as he walks in the kitchen.

"Hey, Bucky." You say as your mouth goes dry looking at him. Those damn low slung sweatpants and tight t-shirt.

"What are you making?" He says.

"Buttercream icing for the cupcakes I made." You reply. 

“What’s the occasion?” Bucky asks coming over to lean on the counter next to you. 

“Just thought I’d make a treat for everyone. Mostly because I wanted cupcakes.” You concentrate on measuring out the confectioner’s sugar into the bowl of the stand mixer with the softened butter and vanilla. Once you start the mixer you glance up at Bucky who is just watching you and decide to add blue food coloring to the icing to match his eyes. And then you berate yourself for being a love struck idiot over the hunk of man next to you. You add a splash of milk into the icing.

“You know how to make this without a recipe?” Bucky asks. 

“Yeah. It’s only four ingredients. Plus food coloring.” You keep your eyes on your task. Bucky has stayed right next to you while you’ve been working. 

You had been with the Avengers for three months and you had fallen for the super soldier about three minutes after meeting him. He talked, flirted, and used pet names with you, but you noticed he also did it with every female he came across. That’s when you decided to keep your distance. You stayed aloof whenever you were around him. You didn’t return his flirtations and never touched him unless absolutely necessary. You were much more free and easy with the rest of the team. With Bucky, you almost felt uptight when talking to him.

“You, uh, bake a lot.” Bucky says. 

“Yeah. It’s a hobby of mine.” You turn away and get your decorating kit out of the pantry. You grab a piping bag and add a star tip before you begin scooping icing into it. 

“Well, I’ll look forward to trying one later.” Bucky says. You look over at him just because his voice sounded almost awkward. 

“K.” You say with brows furrowed. 

Bucky begins to walk away but then turns back to you suddenly. “Why don’t you like me?”

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, “Contrary to popular belief, every woman isn’t required to flirt with you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky says in an exasperated tone. 

“What did you mean?” 

“You are so curt with me. Only me. What did I do to you? DId I offend you somehow? Everytime I talk to you it’s like you just tense up.” Bucky looks at you hurt evident across his face.

“No, you didn’t offend me or anything.” You shrug one shoulder. 

“Then why?”  He pushes. 

You groan. “What does it matter?”

“Because I want to get along with all my teammates and you can’t stand me for some unknown reason and it’s eating at me!” Bucky exclaims. 

You look at him in shock. Surprised at how emphatic he is. “Because you flirt too much, Bucky.”

“Wait, what?” He says. 

“Ugh. Look, the flirting and pet names, I’m sure are cute with all the other ladies, but it just rubbed me the wrong way.” 

“So, I did offend you.” Bucky says. 

“No, Bucky, you hurt me.” You declare and then kick yourself immediately.  

“What do you mean I hurt you?” Bucky steps closer to you. 

“Damnit.” You say, “Nothing, nothing.” You turn away. 

“Doll, talk to me. Please.” Bucky says. He walks around you so he can see your face.

“Look, I was stupid. I thought you were flirting with me because you were interested. And then I saw you flirt with everyone like that. So, I felt like an idiot and I decided to keep my distance. Protect myself. I didn’t mean to be rude to you or anything. I just didn’t want to get hurt. I already felt stupid enough.”

“Doll.” Bucky puts a finger under your chin and lifts your face to look at him. “I do flirt a lot. You’re right. It’s a way I control perception. But, I was flirting with you because I was interested. You, uh, you ever notice you’re the only person I call ‘doll’? It was the first thing that I thought when I saw you. ‘What a doll.’ You looked so beautiful, so perfect that day. And then you spoke and it was like your voice was music and I wanted so badly just to sweep you off your feet. I nearly stumbled over myself to get to you. And for a few days I thought I had a shot. Then suddenly, you turned cold. The harder I flirted the colder you got. I’ve spent three months trying to figure out what I did wrong. Turns out, what I did wrong was trying to flirt with you instead of just asking you out.”

You are dumbstruck at this point. Staring up at Bucky, mouth agape at his confession. Your brain is running in overdrive trying to wrap itself around his words. Finally, Bucky decides to take the chance and lowers his lips to yours. Gently, he brushes his lips against yours waiting a moment to see if you pull back. Instead, you tilt your head to give him better access and press into him. He immediately deepens the kiss and your tongues dance around each other. You break apart when you hear a voice behind you. 

“Man, Natasha wins another bet. I thought you hated him.” Sam is grinning at the two of you despite his words. 

“Don’t you have something better to do than bother us, Birdbrain?” Bucky throws Sam a glare. 

“No, not really. Besides, someone told me they were making cupcakes and I was coming to get one.” Sam says.

“I guess I should finish icing them.” You say with a chuckle. Your face feeling a little heated after having been caught kissing in the kitchen. You pick up the piping bag and quickly finish the first cupcake which you hand to Sam in hopes that he’ll go away. He thanks you and leaves. 

“Any chance I can get another one?” Bucky asks. 

“Yeah, of course.” You pick up another cupcake to ice, but Bucky stops you. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He says before capturing your mouth again. 

You manage to ice the remaining cupcakes in between kisses with Bucky, who insists each cupcake is so perfect you deserve another kiss. Not that you are complaining. When the last cupcake is complete you take the remaining dollop of icing and put it on your finger before delivering it to Bucky’s lips. He wraps his mouth around your finger and you have to stop yourself from shuddering as you feel his tongue sweep over the pad of your finger. His eyes never leave yours and, as you pull your finger from his mouth, he pulls you into another kiss. When you finally separate, he puts his forehead to yours. “Looks like you have desert covered, but can I take you to dinner?”

You laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Masterlist