#I took liberties with the story to make the joke work better

[polyamorousmood]

[discussing partners]: yeah they get me so many gifts! Haha, sometimes I can't eat the candy quick enough boomer boss: singular "they" is incorrect. I try to be respectful but it just hurts my brain. It was drilled into me in school My polyam ass: yes! Singular they! That is what I was using just now.

[unlosts]

Late Spring

Summary: In an Italian restaurant somewhere in Nebraska you and the BAU decompress after non stop cases. And like a magic trick SSA Aaron Hotchner goes back to being Aaron

Word count: 1.8k

After a serial arsonist in North Hempstead, New York; a serial killer in Chandler, Arizona and an amber alert taking you to Lincoln, Nebraska back to back the entire team was running on fumes. Actually fumes were what you were running after the second week, right now it was just coffee and the thought of eventually getting to sleep in your own beds.

It’s not easy being in close quarters with the same group of people for so long, especially when you’ve had to share bedrooms for most of it. First a week with JJ, then three days with Emily and even one night with Spence after both Derek and Rossi refused to bunk with him citing intense sleep talking - which was, in fact, confirmed by you.

Eventually all the rooms started to blur together in your head, from the ugly pink explosion that was the bed and breakfast (which by the way had none), to the motel 6 in Nebraska that seemed straight out of a horror story, complete with an extremely creepy caretaker. Or future unsub Mike as Emily dubbed him.

Tonight was the last night before you could get home and you guys were celebrating big time, which at your current combined energy level meant an actual sit down meal where you didn’t have to look at a dismembered torso while trying to keep down some soggy fries and an under cooked burger.

You all ate in relative silence, brains too fried to talk about anything anymore, the rundown “italian” restaurant - yes Italian in air quotes just like Rossi insisted on doing every time he mentioned the place. The buzzing of the fluorescent light and the scraping of cutlery against plates being the only backdrop to your collective exhaustion.

The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that, finally, after close to three weeks Hotch could ditch the BAU Unit Chief SSA Hotchner and for once just be Aaron. And oh how you missed Aaron.

Despite having spent the better part of each day right next to him it felt like the chasm between you was larger than ever. It was what you had both agreed to; at work pretend like he’s just your unit chief and you’re just the media liaison. No room sharing, no public displays of affection.

Sometimes the affection bleed through the contours of professionalism he insisted on keeping well defined. Something as simple as him pressing his big palm in the middle of your back right between your shoulder blades as you spoke to him; heads a smidge closer together than strictly necessary.

Right now, though, he was just Aaron. Your Aaron. Sitting right next to you, chairs pushed together. Shirt sleeves rolled over his forearms, tie discarded in the hotel room along with his jacket and the last vestiges of whatever sense of professionalism he was still clinging to. His arm around the back of your chair as you leaned into it, head tilted back looking at him as he drank a beer.

He looks back at you and gives you a brief smile, the fondness in his eyes lingering, leg nudging yours underneath the table.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” He says. “Me? Are you kidding?” You yawned “Send us off to the next case I’m ready” Although it wasn’t the cold the sleepiness was making the air conditioned room feel ten times colder so you shivered and took the liberty to lean even closer to him. His hand went to rub your arm trying to warm you back up.

“Do not” Derek chimed in “even joke about that, pretty boy said the same thing after Lincoln and look at us now”

“Yeah, look at us now, in Lincoln” Said Emily with a straight face before drowning the remainder of her beer and snatching JJs before she could realize what had happened.

“I’m too tired for this, you know what I meant.”

“mhhh, sooryy” You replied, not looking very sorry as you closed your eyes and rested your head on the crook of Aarons neck. Breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne and him, more present than ever after day three in the Nebraska summer. His hand is still trailing a path up and down your side, wrinkling your already very wrinkled green shirt and lulling you to sleep.

You felt Aarons lips nudge your temple talking to your in low gentle tones, his breath tickling the baby hairs in your forehead “Do no fall asleep on me or I’ll have to carry you back to the hotel”

“And you’re afraid that if people saw I would lose all of my hard earned Lincoln Nebraska street cred?”

He huffed a laugh before planting a whisper of a kiss on your temple “No, I’m afraid I’m going to throw my back and then you’ll be stuck taking care of me for two weeks”

“If it gets you to rest for two entire weeks I might just consider it”

“Jack would probably help”

“It’s good that you know us so well, and besides I saw you yesterday you still got it” You smiled against his neck remembering the brief but very interesting fight against the unsub before he could be apprehended. “Remind me to ask Penny if she has a copy of the surveillance tape, I’m planning on making the showing it at your birthday dinner next year”

“Look forward to it”

Suddenly you felt a small object hit your chest, looking down to see a crumpled napkin on your lap.

“Can you please get a room? This is the first decent meal I’ve had in weeks and I would hate to throw it back up” Said Emily with a mocking smile, her pearly white teeth contrasting with her faded, barely there plum lipstick.

“I’ve been trying to find a room for days now but none of you know how to cooperate” You reply with a huff.

“Saying please repeatedly until I tell you to shut up is not a good persuasion strategy” Said JJ frowning after getting her beer back from Emily and realizing it was almost empty.

“I don’t see why not, it’s never failed before” You said with a smug smile.

“Besides if we suffer, you suffer” Derek interjects.

“Aww just like a real family”

After a couple of minutes Spencer piped up next to Derek “I would have traded rooms with you”

“Don’t encourage her” Said JJ in her patented and perfected disgruntled mom voice

“I’m going to keep this in mind next time you ask us to babysit Henry so you can have alone time, Jareau”

“Okay, okay” Emily interrupted “Let’s all change subjects, the last thing I want is to talk more about Hotch’s sex life; no offense but in order for this to work I have to think of you like a Ken Doll”

You let out a startled laugh, properly awake now “oh I can assure you my friend-”

“Okay, that’s enough” Said Hotch trying to invoke his authoritative former prosecutor, current FBI unit chief voice. Which was, of course, completely useless when he was blushing so hard.

You just laughed once more, leaning over to briefly kiss his cheek in apology as your friends heckled you both.

What was meant to be a quick dinner before hitting the hay, although in this case the hay was actually a very thin and lumpy hotel mattress, turned into a couple more beers. And yes there were times this week when going to sleep and waking up to Emily's snoring face made you want to quit and move to the seaside but there was truly no other group of people that could make an “Italian” dinner this fun.

Afterwards you all headed you, the brief rise in energy quickly waning at the prospect of more than five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Aaron held you back towards the rear of the group, his arm around you possibly the only thing keeping you upright. The dusk settling over the skyline painted the city pink and gold, you looked back at him standing next to each other on the sidewalk. His eyes a syrupy sweet caramel brown in the golden hour.

“Apparently there’s an ice cream place a couple of blocks from here, it’s supposed to be very good actually” He said looking down for a minute. It took you back to your first date, him asking to take you to a jazz bar which was more so Dave's plan than his, only to end up at a taco truck talking until three am. It amazed you then just as it did now how he could go from stern FBI agent, commanding a room without raising his voice to, well, Aaron.

You smiled up at him, the others long gone leaving you two enveloped in the last rays of sunlight.

“I’d love to, you might actually have to carry me back though, I don’t think this second wind is gonna carry me more than an hour”

“That’s alright, I heard that if I throw my back I get a couple of weeks”

“Whoever told you that was so smart”

“And beautiful”

“Can’t forget that part”

“Well I might not be able to swing two whole weeks but I did arrange to have three days off for everyone” Aaron said, hands in his pocket walking by leisurely next to you as passersby carved a path around you both, a hurried businessman bumping into your back made Hotch pull you closer still, once more enveloping your back.

“Are you serious?” At his assenting nod you couldn't help but smile “and you kept that all to yourself?”

“Mhm”

“Anything else up your sleeve Hotchner?”

“Aaron”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve heard the name Hotch so often these last couple of weeks I almost forgot what my actual name sounded like” He said with a small smile, but you also knew by the way he melted when you said it that he was particularly fond of how it sounded coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, anything else up your sleeve, Aaron?” You asked fondly, unable to resist any longer and stealing a quick kiss before resuming your walk.

“No, nothing else”

“Okay”

“Oh I did convince Dave to share a room with Derek tonight which would indicate that I’m on my own tonight”

“No way, did I miss an anniversary or something?” You asked looking up at him

“No, I just missed you lately”

“Me too but no one else would budge on the room thing, how did you do it?”

“It only cost me forty bucks and promising to take over both Morgans and Rossi's reports for the last case”

“Ah bribery, should have done that sooner”

“You can’t blame yourself honey, I was a prosecutor after all”

You laughed once more, giddiness dispersing your exhaustion, making you feel like you could stay up until next morning, without trouble.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, the ice cream shop just right around the corner, you drew him towards you, leaning up to kiss him slowly and unhurried. Savoring the feeling of coming home after three weeks and not being able to wait a moment more.

[inchidentally]

U wanna analyse this? The words kinda made me sad: https://www.planetf1.com/news/peter-windsor-oscar-piastri-negative-impact-lando-norris

oh babe that one's easy bc not only did Lando have his best season yet by a long shot, he has many many times publicly credited it to Oscar pushing him and giving him the kind of competition that he's needed. as in he's said it so many times it would take me hours to screenshot all of them. Andrea and Zak have said it too, and actually the article itself even admits it. at the very last race Lando said how much Oscar has brought and that Lando himself has learned from him.

so big shock, "planetf1" faked a headline for clicks lol.

just to get ahead of the inevitable doom and gloom that sports media posts for engagement, let me pass on what I learned while in hockey fandom:

if the headline is dramatic, it's fake and don't give it clicks and ad rev. if it's not something like "grosjean leaps through fireball" which is easily verifiable then trust me, they won't be able to back it up in the article. remember when Lando did the landolog of him and Oscar karting in Italy and how much fun they had? at the beginning, he joked that Oscar had been a "little snake" for getting there early and practicing. he literally laughed while he said it. but sure enough, headlines on sites w names like F1dotcomBizFunHorny4U had "McLaren's Norris calls teammate Piastri a snake".

negative stories get engagement and melodrama gets even more. they'll worry about fixing it to not get sued way down in the article under the tenth video ad.

if the article was cribbed/didn't get a direct interview with a named source with an actual role within a team then it's either fake or stretched beyond reality for engagement.

even quotations can get chopped to hell and misplaced to fake a story - like people seeing Pierre explain his lack of relationship with Esteban by saying that other drivers might not be close friends either and to not make assumptions. despite quotes from those other drivers that they do in fact like their teammate (Carlos actually said this about him and Charles to Esteban and Pierre on the fanstage at Vegas). if people want to go hogwild with a quote to fit their negative personal narrative then they will. sites that exist solely for ad revenue and sponsorships will do everything to draw those fans in.

if DTS ever lands on the truth it's because that storyline wasn't worth the time in post twisting it into lies. so the fact that Oscar and Lando haven't had melodrama between them and keep saying how well they work together and like each other could mean that we get some unedited actual decent content! but since the 2023 season was so boring it might mean that the editors decide to do a hatchet job and bring in the usual talking heads to fabricate a drama between them. it ultimately doesn't matter bc DTS is only good for f1blr so that we can pull stuff for memes and gifs etc. when Lando recorded his viewing of some of the seasons he spent most of it laughing.

also this isn't the 80s or 90s or even early 00s Formula 1. the drivers are expected to stay much more even keeled out of respect for their teams and even the Pierre/Esteban situation (jsyk I do know their childhood history) isn't like they're out for each other's throats. they have a solely professional relationship now and they'd both agree that being civil is much better than not having an F1 seat. drivers are also way too busy nowadays with their own sponsorships and work outside racing to sit and fester these crazy rivalries in bars and pubs - as well as the media duties for their team that are way more since Liberty Media took over.

every set of teammates will experience ups and downs and tensions but they also have every incentive to get over it and not fuck up their work environment. especially at McLaren where Andrea and Zak now take a hard line about the drivers cooperating at all times for the sake of the team, that's never going to spiral into the kind of drama that media want. Lando beating himself up this season is because he's 5 years in and dying for that win, it's his mentality and it clearly didn't stop him from snatching podiums and points anyway. does he envy Oscar's sprint win, of course!! but if he hated or even resented Oscar for that Sprint win then he wouldn't keep bringing it up on Oscar's behalf all the time. he would do like other resentful teammates have done and simply avoid talking about it at all.

tl;dr anon, for your own sake please customize your F1 media experience or it'll drive you crazy <3 and just to say, I don't look at anything but F1.com or AP news to get updates on anything and I don't pay attention to anything else.

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 📍 (you are here!) | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1

click here to read on AO3

》 part 3 word count: ~2k

》 part 3 warnings: none

》 part 3 spoilers: none

》 a/n: a bit of a longer part! reader and echo meet again and reader is a lil bit confused, poor thing.

i really took some creative liberty with this chapter and it probably (definitely) does not really reflect what it's like to be fighting in a war in any manner but oh well!!!!! that's the fun of fiction, you get to make up your own world <33

hope u folks like the chapter!

३ (3)

The third time you see him, you’re back on Coruscant, and technically supposed to be on leave. You requested a few days off, much to Fives’ delight and Anakin’s dismay. (“Aw, come on Astro! Your opinion is the only one I can trust on this entire ship when it comes to engineering.” “Oh please Anakin, spare me your whining. You know just as well as I do that you’ll be perfectly fine. But I’ll miss you too.”)

Despite both being part of the 501st, Fives and Echo had very different schedules, and more often than not, Fives’ rotations lined up with yours, leaving you to suffer through his insufferable pick-up lines. You have no idea how you haven’t smacked the banthashit out of him yet. (Fives’ knowing smile always ends up stopping you)

In all seriousness though, he had been pestering you to take a break from your work after quickly seeing the toll it began to take on you. The responsibilities kept piling up and more and more often, you were sacrificing sleep in order to continue making improvements, even despite having your team’s help. In your mind, time couldn’t be wasted when good soldiers were losing their lives, and you would be damned if you didn’t take every opportunity to make sure they lived another day.

But Fives eventually wore you down. (You have a sneaking suspicion he was relaying everything to Echo who then in turn made sure Fives turned his “charm” up to the highest notch to get you to take a break.)

(It worked.)

If anything, you were shocked when you received the message that not only was your leave accepted, but you were encouraged to take a sabbatical for a few weeks.

You weren’t planning on doing so, but after Fives, Prauf, Sonia, and even Rex of all people ganged up on you, you didn’t think you had a choice.

Even now, you’re still not sure what to make of it. Granted, the extra time means you can reach out to family and dust off former projects, but you kind of miss the hustle and bustle of your job. It simply isn’t the same without your friends always nagging you and cracking jokes. You would never tell Fives, but you even miss his terribly endearing flirting.

After the glamour of the sabbatical wore off, you decided to dive headlong into the numerous ideas collected in your engineering notebook over the years. It’s an old gift given to you by your parents, made out of paper and bound by string, encased in a decorated hard-shell cover to protect the inside. Such rarities are difficult to come by these days since datapads are so prevalent, but you always liked the smooth glide of an inkpen against scratchy paper better.

You turn to a new, precious page and meticulously begin fleshing out a prototype. Each line is drawn precisely, every mark exact. As you design, you keep a datapad open with the list of items you need to get. You have a makerspace where you can engineer to your heart’s desire, but there are some select objects you require you doubt you’ll be able to find in the marketplace.

So you head for the makerspace in the engineering garage in the basement of the Senate building on Coruscant. Your office is still there, and you still have your holoid with you–you’ll be in and out in no time.

Or so you thought.

“Astro! It’s good to see you,” a voice calls out. You turn around to find both Ahsoka and Padme side by side, R2-D2 trailing behind Padme’s lovely gown.

“Padme! Ahsoka! I haven’t seen you both in so long,” you greet kindly, eyes curving into crescent moons. R2-D2 beeps indignantly as they stop in front of you and you laugh, bending down to pet the droid’s head affectionately.

“And hello to you too, R2. Anakin making sure that capacitor is working smoothly?” R2 whumps and warbles and you nod in satisfaction.

“For once, he’s actually taking my advice.”

All of you laugh, knowing just how headstrong Anakin is when it comes to technology–or anything, really.

“Why are you here? I thought you were taking some time off?” Ahsoka pipes up, her confusion as clear as day. You shrug in slight embarrassment at getting caught so quickly.

“I wanted to pick up a few things from my office downstairs. Thought I could do something useful to help the war effort even though I’m not here,” you explain and Padme raises an eyebrow.

“Astro, I believe the point of taking leave is to not do work?” she points out and you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Yes, well, this...this is more of a personal project than a work project. I like to keep busy,” you say, hands gripping your bag tightly.

Ahsoka opens her mouth to speak, but Padme places a hand on the Padawan’s shoulder. “In that case, we won’t stop you. But please do take some time for yourself, hm? And you’re always free to stop by anytime,” she says instead, and you nod in agreement, not sure what else to say.

“Take care Astro! See you later!” Ahsoka fills the silence as the three of them begin walking away and you wave back in response.

Once they turn the corner, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, too focused on not slipping up in the conversation. At least that’s over.

You make your way to the makerspace swiftly, not keen on meeting anyone else. You love your friends, but you doubt you can handle any more guilt-tripping. Besides, you’re still taking a break–you don’t really see what the problem is here.

The sharp scent of oil and grease fills your nostrils as you step into the engineering garage, saws and cutters whirring throughout the spacious area. Lights spark here and there and you relax, feeling at home. Before you can make it any farther, your best friend seemingly materializes out of nowhere.

“What the hell are you doing here? Go home,” Prauf exclaims, already trying to push you back out the door. You roll your eyes as you easily duck under his outstretched arm.

“I am, I am! I just came by to pick up a few things–please, for the love of the Maker above, do not tell Sonia. She’s going to rip me apart to shreds if she finds out,” you please, clasping your hands in front of you as Prauf folds his arms over his chest.

He relents, though, sighing out your name in resignation, and you whoop in joy.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I promise I’ll make it up to you,” you say as you throw your arms around him and he pats your back gently.

“Yeah, yeah, you owe me,” Prauf agrees. “You should use your time to go on a date with your boyfriend though.”

He darts away back to his work before you can smack his forearm in retaliation because you do not have a boyfriend, thank you very much. Your heart beats faster at the thought anyway.

Instead of following him, you accept defeat retreat to your office to grab the materials you need. You end up needing a cart to tow everything back to your makerspace back home. Realizing you can’t walk back without the high chance of one of your parts being stolen, you opt for grabbing a speeder taxi up at the ship docking bay.

You make your way back upstairs, dodging busygoers this way and that before finally making it to the bay. So close…

But of course, the universe is against you when you see his telltale armor standing near a ship. Oh kriff.

You saw both Ahsoka and R2-D2 today, meaning Anakin and the 501st were probably here too. You can’t believe it didn’t connect the dots in your head sooner. For someone whose life's work is putting things together, it’s ironic you didn’t realize.

In an attempt to make sure he can’t see you, you turn at an angle and try heading for the far end of the hanger as fast as possible, pulling your hat down lower over your eyes to obscure your face.

It doesn’t work.

“Astro?” Echo’s voice calls. You close your eyes in defeat, posture softening into a sag. Damnit. But despite your reluctance at being caught, you can’t help the spark of warmth that shoots through your body at the sound of his warm acknowledgment.

“In the flesh.”

You turn around and Echo jogs up to you, a look on his face you can’t quite decipher. He gazes at you when he ends up in front of you, a small, disarming smile. It seems as if he knows something you don’t.

“Need help?” he gestures to your heavy cart and you look down, momentarily forgetting about it. You don’t comment on your surprise.

“Oh, uh–yeah. Thanks,” you say instead. You step back, but it’s not far enough. Echo bumps into you when he tries sliding into your space to take over. It knocks a breathless laugh out of him and your stomach flips. Whether it’s out of embarrassment or something else entirely, you don’t know.

“I–sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Echo waves you off nonchalantly. “Don’t apologize, happens all the time. You should have seen Fives yesterday at 79’s. Tup accidentally tripped him and he went careening straight into a commander. And boy did they give him a piece of their mind. All of us were losing it when he came back to our table,” he laughs effortlessly.

You’re suddenly jealous of how natural he is, how easily he smooths over awkward bumps and cumbersome smalltalk. Your hands curl at your sides, unsure of where to place them.

Echo guides you both across the large docking bay, filling the silence gracefully with one story after another, each as funny as the last. You stay quiet most of the time, appropriately laughing at this point and that, inserting a comment here or there. He doesn’t seem to mind though, instead building off of your reactions. It’s almost… relieving.

“And we’re here!” You’re shaken out of your reverie by the exclamation, and you look around to confirm that you indeed have arrived. Wait… how did he even know this is where I wanted to go?

You choose not to dwell too long on the thought.

Echo lets go of his grip on the cart, making space for you to push it. He waves down a driver and instructs them to load your parts into a crate to take on the back of a speeder before turning to you.

“Thanks, Echo. It was nice to see you again,” you remark, lifting your gaze to meet his eyes. He smiles in acknowledgment and something about him pushes you to continue.

You hesitate for a moment before opening your mouth again. “Would… would you like to accompany me back? I’m working on a prototype and I wouldn’t mind an extra set of hands…” you trail off. The offer hangs in the air, uncertain–a lingering question.

Echo’s comm answers for him. He steps back and you feel the same urge as you felt in the cantina all those days ago to pull him back to you, pull him close to you. You stay stuck by the cart.

“As much as I would like to, duty calls,” he says apologetically, echoing your statement from when you first met him. As he walks backwards, he gives you a lazy salute accompanied with a lopsided smile.

“Until we meet again, Astro!”

And with that, he runs off, leaving you alone with the grouchy driver, mumbling about how he doesn’t get paid enough.

It’s only until you get home and unload the equipment that you realize Echo was the only one who didn’t ask why you were there.

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 📍 (you are here!) | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 | part +1

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[thesinglesjukebox]

KENDRICK LAMAR - "NOT LIKE US"

From “fucking Drake” to “fuck you, Drake”…

[6.73]

Katherine St. Asaph: "Meet the Grahams" was more vicious, but this has schadenfreude off the charts: one-upping "Family Matters" with something even more engineered as a crossover bop and succeeding at that crossover, thus depriving Drake of his one argument in the court of public opinion; the simultaneous coinage of many new memes dunking on Fucking Drake; the various streams of Drake stans squirming in anguish trying to suppress the urge to dance; clubs playing it almost immediately; the NBA playoff broadcasters adding it to rotation almost immediately (especially considering OKC is in them); the sheer fact that there is an enormously popular track that calls Drake a predator for his publicly predatory behavior. [10]

Will Adams: i ain't reading all that. i'm happy for u tho. or sorry that happened. [3]

Alex Clifton: “Meet the Grahams” was one of the darkest songs I have ever heard and took the Kendrick-Drake beef to an entirely new level. But while “Meet the Grahams” has more damning accusations, “Not Like Us” acts as a real sucker punch because it’s so catchy and funny. Why not beat Drake at his own game by rapping about how he sucks over a dance beat? A jab about Drake’s predilection for younger girls turned into the most quotable line of the summer—honestly a genius move. People will be yelling “it’s probably A minorrrrrrrrrrr” whenever it comes up. The rest is fun, too; the colonizer line in particular makes me snicker. The fact that it was written so quickly with such smart lyrics leaves me in awe. Do I feel good about watching all this unfold? Not exactly; if any of the accusations these men hurl at one another end up being true, I don’t think anyone “wins.” But I am a messy bitch who loves drama, and this is drama to the highest fucking degree. If it sounds this good, all the better.  [7]

Nortey Dowuona: The most seething, unflattering portrait of a theater kid raging that their talent and charm has not gained them the unflinching loyalty of their audience (and by extension their partner), and we will either have to hastily disavow this in four months/four years/tomorrow. That said, incredible, so full points! [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: All moral and ethical concerns aside, I celebrate this as the triumphant return of the most notable figure in West Coast rap over the past decade: DJ Mustard! And thank god for it, too — before this, the aftershocks of "Like That" were mostly caught up in boring video essay-type beats (Jack Antonoff was involved) that existed merely so that these guys didn't have to just do spoken-word poetry. (I refrain here from talking too much about "BBL Drizzy," maybe the most interesting work in all of this scuffling.) It's not just that this is a fun beat; it's a beat composed with such obvious glee that it forced Kendrick into doing his best Drakeo (RIP) impression, taunting and generating quotables like he'll never need to rap again. Even when he comes back to his senses and executes a rigorous and serious cultural critique of Drake's extractive practices with regard to the Atlanta rap ecosystem, he gets some good jokes in – if some told me that 2 Chainz had LIED when he said I was good, I would retire immediately. [8]

Jackie Powell: I compare this titular moment in music, the now very public feud between Kendrick Lamar and Drake, to a sports rivalry I follow quite closely. Kelsey Plum of the Las Vegas Aces told reporters during the 2023 WNBA Finals that her rival team, the New York Liberty, didn’t really “care about each other” in tough moments as teammates. She compared them to her Aces, a group of players who show on the internet and on television how close they are. In other words: For Plum, they (the Liberty) aren’t like us (her Aces). This rivalry was built from a couple of ideas: 1) these are the two teams with the most talent in the league, and 2) rivalries are hot-button stories that elevate and bring more eyes to the product. That second idea is where I land when it comes to our hip-hop feud at hand -- and hey, the WNBA is super in style now, so hip-hop should be honored that I’m making this comparison. Reanna Cruz remarked on "Switched On Pop" that this beef is “getting played up to get people to pay attention to rap music again.” She’s not wrong. A huge difference between these two conflicts, of course, is that Drake and Kendrick Lamar are taking cheap shots at each other that make the trauma and pain of many women public. This beef is becoming too personal, rather than just a promotional catalyst for the genre. The synth strings that accompany Lamar’s flow do make this a worthwhile listen without soaking in the numerous disses on the track, and I always enjoy when Lamar adds jazz elements. But the compelling and catchy arrangement aside, I was disappointed in the hook. Saying someone isn’t up to par is a weighted statement, and repeating the title of the track six times isn’t an innovative way to hammer that point home.  [5]

Alfred Soto: I acknowledge the anguish of many writers deploring the unfounded accusations here and in "Meet the Grahams." Exploiting the misery of the victims for the sake of a diss track is gross. Maybe Nas vs. Jay-Z spats no longer suit our times -- I grew up with them and loved them. But I'd be lying if I denied the motherfuckin' catchiness of Mustard-on-the-beat and Kendrick Lamar's arsenal of whines, repetitions, and biographical data. I also remember: art and journalism intersect but have divergent responsibilities.  [8]

Julian Axelrod: If there are any winners in the great Graham-Lamar Beef of 2024, it's the cadre of Genius-pilled rap fans who scour over every stray Kendrick line like it's holy scripture, teasing out assumed allusions and nebulous entendres. Now Kendrick's footnoting with purpose, each toss-away reference loaded with subtext about Drake's personal (and potentially criminal) misdoings. But the most shocking thing Kendrick did -- the thing that probably made Drake madder than any other slight in this saga -- was make a good old fashioned rap radio banger, the kind he hasn't attempted since SZA dropped Ctrl. And even more thrillingly, it's an obsessively reverent LA rap resurrection that nobody does better than Kendrick at his loosest and best, alternating between Drakeo yammers and E-40 yowls over a Mustard beat that sounds like congested traffic on a hot day. (What's crazier, the fact that two of Kendrick's diss tracks are produced by Mustard and Jack Antonoff? Or the fact that the likely chart-topper is produced by one Dijon McFarlane?) If anything, the diss/bop duality is a disadvantage; there's too much weight for the song to feel truly breezy, and it's hard to turn up to direct accusations of sex trafficking and pedophilia. But casual menace is the defining trait of a West Coast diss track, and it's satisfying to hear Kendrick returning to his home turf.  [7]

Hannah Jocelyn: I've seen criticisms for the mix, and anyone who's followed my blurbs during my eight years (!) writing for TSJ knows I'm all for that; believe me when I say that for once, it actually is nitpicking. All that matters for a song like this is that the vocals are intelligible but not too far above the beat. And these vocals are very intelligible, with every syllable as enunciated as Pusha T's "you are HIDING a CHILD" for three minutes straight. The verse calling Drake out for his genre-hopping is as insightful and intense as anything Kendrick’s ever written. But this is obviously most famous for the "A minorrrrr" joke, mocking both Drake's "Dave Freeeeeee" delivery on "Family Matters" and Nicki Minaj's eccentric drawn-out deliveries. (Never mind that the line isn't that strong -- it's the same pun Bo Burnham used over a decade ago.) Even as things get dark, it's an incredibly fun listen; I enjoyed the showmanship of the beef, culminating in Kendrick beating his sworn enemy at his own game. But everyone who hates what it's become is right. Do we really want jokes about these topics? If any of it is true, does that even change anything? Drake's not too famous to get caught, despite what he said; he's just too famous to face any meaningful consequences. The humiliation in "Not Like Us" might be the best we can do about alleged predators on this scale, in place of anything resembling justice. [7]

Oliver Maier: It should be valid -- encouraged, even -- to admit that Kendrick Lamar is at his most annoying when he makes chart music. We are all losers in this godforsaken beef. [2]

Taylor Alatorre: It doesn't live up to the promise contained in that heart-resuscitating DJ Mustard tag, but I don't know if any song could. The song that could live up to that DJ Mustard tag exists only in the realm of pure forms, alongside the band that could live up to the name Libertines and the album that could live up to the title ARTPOP. The actually existing "Not Like Us" lives down here in the muck with us fallen people, in a place of impermanence and unsettledness and compromise. A place where productive collaborations from a decade ago can be recast as colonial thievery in an instant; where populist pandering comes in the strategic use of the words "pedophiles" and "minor"; where sex offender registries are of dubious criminological impact; where my YouTube homepage just looks like this now; where apps are now battlefields and "post-truth" is a casus belli; where the bloodied gears of History churn on in the background, or foreground; where the Macklemore apology form exists; where in some arcane yet deeply intuitive way this all prefigures another Trump electoral victory. And yet, for all of Kendrick’s “me against the industry” posturing, only by climbing on the shoulders of its fraught context is “Not Like Us” able to claw its way into the halls of pop immortality. From "euphoria" onward, this has been the diss track as alternate reality game, roping in everyone from confused Chinese restaurant patrons to the luminaries named in Kendrick's Real Atlanta Roll Call. We bob our heads to the lines about statutory offenses not because the bars are the hardest-hitting ever, or because we particularly care about the legal fate of Baka Not Nice, but because we imagine the thousands of other people bobbing their heads at that exact moment, astounded that (or wondering whether) we're allowed to do so. Because the floodgates have been opened, Carnival is upon us, and for a few charged weeks even a beat that Stay Dangerous-era YG would have left alone can become a defining document of its time. Monoculture status: alive, in Serbia.  [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[simmyfrobby]

Top 5 hockey poetry posts

You're having me grade my own work?

As a general rule, my favourite edits are the ones where I tried something new & didn't think it would really work but then it DID.

Regarding the Pain of Others, Susanne Sontag This one isn't based on a poem at all. I just took a bunch of quotes I liked out of context and tried to fit them together in a way that made sense. I didn't really plan on posting it, but it turned out much better than expected so I did. The Sontag essay is awesome, but I will admit that I took Some Liberties w the text.

October, Louise Glück This was supposed to be 4 separate poems, but I discovered I had enough photos to make it into one long one. Again, didn't think it would work but it did. Probably the poem I feel most strongly about because it's the players I feel most strongly about.

Faithful and Virtuous Night, Louise Glück My first hockey poem and coincidentally a poem about the player who turned me into a hockey fan in the first place. If I could do this one again I would do it differently, but it's still cool to see how the style (& quality) of my edits has developed since this first one.

Landscape, Louise Glück Okay so now that I'm listing them out like this there really are a disproportionate nr of Glück poems.. But ok. This one was fun because I tried to tell the story of Claude both through the poem and through the journey from darkness to light (and back to darkness) in pictures. There's so many good Claude photos and edits available that I needed an additional challenge to make it worth my while.

The Mourning Star, Scott-Patrick Mitchell I like this one because I made it for a friend. There are quite a lot of high res. pictures of Bruins boys in suits, but in order to make it work for a mafia au I had to figure out a way to add in the other elements of the story. I almost went with a shot from Batman instead of the city skyline (which is London, not Boston. I cropped out st. Pauls). Started out as a joke and then it took over my entire life for a bit. I still like the poem though.

[jacobsneed]

For Cricket, Rizpah, and Skunk! 🖤

I just want to know them better okay 👉🏻👈🏻

My clipboard saved things odd and if they're in a wacky order apologies!

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

○ ○ ○

A) Why are you excited about this character?

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

H) What trait do you admire most?

aaaaaa I am screeching and flapping autistically :D No need to apologize :))

okay putting this under a read more since I'll be gushing about all these gremlins :)

Uncommon Questions for OCs and their creators

Cricket Rook

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

I imagine Cricket would lie to their dad, claiming they were cutting down on their smoking near daily before he died. Boy do they feel haunted by that

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Will probably ponder in their head for a bit before politely asking for clarification

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

Oh very, Cricket is the type of person to lay awake at night haunted by something cringe they may have done as a child. They hold on to their guilt a lot :(

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

Going to church with their family growing up. They loved getting together with everyone, and it was the one time they would wear a dress their Grandmother gifted them

A) Why are you excited about this character?

I was in an awful depression/ptsd spiral before I started playing and after I got into it and started creating Cricket in my head I just went full hyperfixation mode and really helped pull me out of the nasty brains :'))) so I have a big ole soft spot in my heart for Cricks

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

A little bit, it took me a few weeks to figure out what exactly their deal was, I'm still working on plotting out the lore of the Rook family at the moment :D

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

I would absolutely love to have Cricks as a bible study buddy or have them take me out shooting. I just know they would badger me to quit smoking though as they should

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

Ugh, Cricket is just too damn forgiving. They should also try being more aggressive in their assertion once in a while

H) What trait do you admire most?

How even when it seems like everything is shit, and all the cards are stacked against them, Cricket still manages to maintain their faith

Rizpah Mags

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Oh lord, I see Maggie as the type to lie without even realizing it, it's just something that is so common to her. Unfortunately doesn't feel bad about it when she catches herself lying

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Will very bluntly and sternly just ask for clarification

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

Not that hard at all, just confesses her sins and believes herself to be absolved of any perceived wrong doings

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

Her first time in the bliss, or alternatively the first proper meeting between her and Cricket

A) Why are you excited about this character?

I originally made her as a joke because I wanted to make a cultist oc, but also thought it'd be funny to make an oc specifically to annoy Cricket. She kinda snowballed from that into an 'actual' character, and I'm just jazzed to write out her full lore :D

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

A bit, I took a couple artistic liberties making her little world. Mainly about inner cult workings and whatnot. I'm still doing so much work with her sdfghjkl trying so hard to not spoil anything in her story >_&lt;

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

Hm, I probably wouldn't. I don't quite know why, but I just feel like we would be nowhere near the same wavelengths. I'm also not a fan of her because she's kinda mean and I'm sensitive, she would totally lightly bully me lmao

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

How easily she just shrugs off any guilt and tries to justify every morally questionable thing she does

H) What trait do you admire most?

If anything, she's incredible tenacious and self assured

Matthew "Skunk" Dennis

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

He's the type of dad that tells his daughter harmless lies all the time (the tooth fairy, easter bunny, you know the drill) he doesn't find himself haunted by these lies much at all

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

He's an utter idiot and will just kinda act like he knows what's up or what to until someone asks him just what the hell he's doing and helps him out LMAO

 How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

I see him as being the type to hold on to guilt when he screws up, usually trying to smoke it away at first before coming to the realization that it's better to try to make amends and just going above and beyond to make it up to anyone he feels he's wronged

What memory do they revisit the most often? 

Arriving in Hope and the feeling of love he felt being accepted into the community, knowing that he found a place to set roots

A) Why are you excited about this character?

Another character started as a joke, based off a black&white mullet I had once, lmao. He's also got me super jazzed because he's kinda like an autism creature my sister and I made after binging trailer park boys a few times in a row, which was a lovely bonding experience lol

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

Not really, I figured since there is "oregano" throughout the map, someone had to have been growing, right? In my universe, he just kinda vibes in the trailer park with his daughter

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

He's definitely in my dream blunt rotation, I'll say that. I feel like out of all my fc5 characters, he's the one I would get along with the most, but I know he'd clown on me for my inability to roll a joint but would love my idiotic jokes

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

His utter recklessness, like sir please make a plan before doing something stupid. This man needs to learn to think first then act

H) What trait do you admire most?

His dedication to being a single dad and his ability to improvise

[melodylnoelle]

Wakanda Sunset

The Cards Have Spoken - Week 11 (My cards)

Here we are being a week late again because I have hit a major life roadblock... but I still hope that you enjoy this piece!

I also referenced @brightsun-and-darkmidnight​ ‘s piece called Punk from one of the earlier card draws in this one. Please give it a read for context, it’s a very lovely work!

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe   Characters: Shuri (Additional - Bucky Barnes) Category: Fluff - Picnic in the park (with park being a loose translation on this one) Timeline: Post- The Dark World (took the liberty of making it wayyyy past TDW) Setting: Wakanda Warnings/Notes: This is my first time writing Shuri in any way, so I stuck to making it so something was a little familiar. I hope this is in character enough, but if not, please let me know how I can make it better! // We are trying to keep these all to a minimum of 500 words. You can use these same cards for your own story if you like, but please tag me and @brightsun-and-darkmidnight so that we can see what you do! Please enjoy   Words:  1283 Summary: Shuri takes Bucky for a much-needed break from his goats Masterlist

           Shuri moved quickly over the uneven grass. It had been a while since she had been out of the lab to enjoy the lush land of Wakanda. She was in need of a change of pace, and this was a perfect opportunity for a certain broken white boy to get a breather, too.

           She found him as she expected to as she halted on the top of the hill – tending to his goats not far from his hut. He always seemed to be busying himself while he was here. He had told her once he felt like he owed it to them to get things done, as a thank you for removing the Winter Soldier from his mind. He worked twice as hard as most of the people in the country, only stopping to rest.

           Well, she would make sure he rested his mind extra today.

           “Good afternoon, Sargent Barnes.” She called when she thought she was close enough for him to hear.

           He shook his head, moving his gaze from off into space and turning, focusing on her. “I thought I told you to call me Bucky!”

           She smiled at the way they started all their conversations. It was a fun little quip, and she hoped he didn’t mind too much. She jogged down the hill, careful not to jostle the basket on her arm too much, and approached him before speaking again. “How are the goats today?”

           He let out a sigh, looking to them. “Well, Punk didn’t get himself hurt today, so that’s always a good start.” A half-smile crossed his face as he looked to his favorite goat, which was bouncing around all of the other ones at a break-neck pace. His eyes looked as though they were looking to something far away, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were seeing.

           “Maybe because he has a good handler to keep him in line,” she bumped his shoulder, and waited for him to shake himself out of wherever he had just been. “I think they will be alright for the rest of the afternoon. If you keep spending all of your time with the goats, we might have to rename you the White Goat.” His head dipped with quiet laughter, and she felt her own smile widen. “You could use a break.”

           “Oh, well you don’t know Punk. He gets into trouble pretty easily.” The smile was back, at least.

           “Stop putting the weight of his choices on your shoulders for a moment,” she joked back, raising the basket on his arm. “Besides, this food is not going to eat itself.”

           He eyed it in question. “You brought food all the way out here to little old me?”

           “And for me! And I’m hungry, so come on, would you?”

           “If you’re that hungry, we could just eat here. Then I can keep an eye on-“

           “That is precisely why we are not eating here.” She insisted, pulling lightly on his arm. “Come, we are on a timeline.”

           His brow furrowed. “Why’s that?”

           “You will see.” She let go of his arm and turned, sure he would follow without turning to look. Soon enough, she heard his footfalls in the grass behind her. She let her stride slow to give him time to catch up.

           She tried asking him how he was doing as they walked, but he didn’t say much. He just started talking about the work that he had done, and the goats. He was supposed to be resting more than this, and she mentally chastised him for not doing so. She didn’t want to upset him further, though, so she kept that to herself. Instead, she launched into a story about the work that she was doing in her lab. He had a fascination with technology, she had realized, and she found it enjoyable to talk to someone about her work that for once had a very interested ear. He listened intently as she spoke about the new version of the Black Panther suit she made for T’Challa, and her recent improvement to the kimoyo beads. She answered his questions, which came as many that he seemed to want answered all at once. His eyes lit up with wonder at every answer, and as she used the holographic projector on the beads to show him schematics. It was a refreshing change in him, and she smiled, satisfied that this was now going as she planned.

           It was almost an hour when they reached their destination – a grass-covered outcropping on one of the nearby mountains that overlooked much of the land in Wakanda. Hills rolled in waves of green at varying heights below, dotted with trees and splashes of color from wildflowers. Her timing had been perfect, it turned out, as the landscape was washed in the light orange of the just-setting sun, and the city in the background glinted with gold.

           She looked at Bucky as he took in the scene, eyes wide and light. His mouth fell open slightly, and he halted in his steps.

           “I know your hut gives you a great view of the sunset, but I thought you might like to see it from a different angle.”

           “It’s beautiful here.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

           “This is one of my favorite places to come to take a break from the lab.” She sat down at the edge of the outcropping, letting her feet dangle. She set the basket down next to her as she pondered the ground far below. It always amazed her, the expanse of the forest and wildlife there.

           Bucky took another moment before he joined her, his steps muffled further by the grass and weeds. He braced himself with his arm as he mimicked her movements, swinging his legs under them. Seemingly mindlessly, he kicked his feet as he tore his vision from the scene in front of him. “So, you said you were hungry?”

           “Yes, here,” she reached in, grabbing the foods that she had packed and spreading them between them where the basket had been. “I thought you might have forgotten to eat again, what with only grass to graze on around you.”

           He chuckled as he took some of the food that she offered. “Thanks.”

           “You are welcome, Sargent.”

           He dead-panned a moment before ignoring it, taking a bite of his food and looking back into the sunset.

           She followed his gaze, admiring the scenery in front of them as they ate wordlessly.

           He was the first to break the silence. “I really appreciate everything your people have done for me.”

           “It was nothing,” Shuri shrugged. “You needed the help, and we could give it.”

           “But you didn’t have to.”

           “Just as you do not have to so endlessly help with work, but you do.”

           He shook his head, his food pausing halfway to his mouth. “That’s different, I-“

           “You do not owe us that much.” Shuri met his eyes with a steeled look of her own. “You need to rest your mind more than you need to repay us. Do not make my work be for nothing by working yourself to death.”

           She let that sit for a moment as he kept staring at her. She held his gaze, waiting for him to argue.

           She was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. He just nodded and looked back out at the deeper orange of the sky. When he spoke again, it was quieter this time.

           She let him think his thoughts. She focused hers on the sunset, too, settling back into eating her food. She would take this small victory, that she had gotten him to at least try to relax for just this moment.

[guildtree]

🍊 Who’s a character you don’t write for that often, but keep meaning to write for more? (They’re so interesting! But maybe you have trouble pinning them down, or keep getting distracted by another blorbo…)

🍌 In your opinion, what’s the funniest joke/reference/pun you’ve made in a fic?

🍐 Is there anything in canon that you absolutely hate and love to fix in fics? A wrong choice made, a fuck-up in characterization, a misunderstanding never cleared up, a conversation never shown onscreen, etc…

🍇 Is there a particular scene/episode/book/etc that you want to just write a million fics about, over and over? Which one?

🍊: I've wanted to write something with Mai Trin since Season 1 re-released, but I've just never been able to figure out the exact plot or theme to tie a story with her in it together. I also need to make something with Braham in it because he gets too much hate, the poor guy :(

🍌: The quote, “Funny, it seemed like you were thinking about a very different type of Krytan-Canthan relations" from Business and Pleasure because I got a reader comment and tell me they almost choked on their food laughing. Close seconds would be Marjory drawing pink necromancy sigils all over Taimi's lab in Left Behind, and Shirley the bone minion.

🍐: Not too much in Guild Wars 2, thankfully! I've definitely been in fandoms where fix-it fics abound *cough* warrior cats *cough* and while running off spite for a while can be fun, I've never found it personally healthy to stay in those spaces for long. If I really hated a majority of the canon, I would just leave and find something I liked better.

That being said, we all know the end of Icebrood Saga was a train wreck and a half, so if I ever write something in that era of game time, you can trust I am taking liberties with the story, characters, and especially the timeline. Smodur got character assassinated in Drizzlewood and I would either make him be clearly influenced by Jormag or simply swap his role with Malice Swordshadow (who had no character to be assassinated before and would be more Jormag's type anyways). More time devoted to the norn and Primordus please, more character development for Jhavi. I completely screw with the timeline there because it is ridiculous that the Primordus/Jormag conflicts took like 3 years of in-game time when Champions feels so short and other dragons like Zhaitan and Mordremoth took a year or less. I generally condense that conflict and add additional months to years of peace between Dragonfall -> Grothmar and Champions -> EoD instead, to give the characters more room to breathe.

I also may wind up changing either Mordremoth's or Zhaitan's pronouns to it/its or they/them for the Aurene fic? Soo-Won refers to Mordremoth as 'him' at one point, and I think Zhaitan never gets a canon gender, but something about those dragons and their domains feel so big and conceptual that it feels weird to restrict them to a binary gender? Especially with the Mordie weapons talking about how the dragon felt like sylvari were inherently part of its body, like it extends to cover everything; and then Zhaitan just being death itself. Idk dragons are such weird creatures that it feels like they should play with gender more.

🍇: Anything Kasjory during End of Dragons or later. I love their dynamic there: it feels like they finally have their relationship figured out, they're working together and supporting each other, they're finally getting their happy ending after all that pain. You've got detective stuff with the Aetherblades and political stuff with Kas's ambassador job, plus some good battle couple stuff at the end with the Void fight. I love fluff, hurt/comfort, and the occasional mystery or drama plot, so EoD was a fanfic gold mine for me.

[nameless-shrimp]

𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — BONTEN

↳ PAIRING: Manjiro Sano + Haruchiyo Sanzu + Rindou Haitani + Ran Haitani + Hajime Kokonoi + Kakucho Hitto x F! Reader (she/her)

↳ TYPE: drabbles

↳ WARNINGS: light NSFW, suggestive, fluff/humor, heavy grammar errors

↳ SYNOPSIS: Your daughter walks in the bedroom late at night while you and your husband are trying to... get it on.

↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is probably bad but i wanted to write this so yeah this was the outcome lmfao. also, this is for my darling may <3 i know you've been going through it honey, but i promise it gets better. so i hope the bonten weirdos make you smile.

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎

“Why’re you up, baby?”

Mikey’s voice echoed from the bedroom. His figure darkened in the low silhouette but the faint dim of the lamp was able to capture his tired glow. Sighing, he slowly slid off his pants cautiously, where you eyed his movements. His eyes portrayed nothing but empty hues—and you grabbed ahold of his wrist, pulling him on top of you in an instant.

Gasping, he furrowed his brows. “Ba—baby?!” He called out carefully, widening his eyes before you peppered lips across his jawline. He sighed in contentment, allowing the fulfillment to take in before your fingers trailed across his bare chest, swirling circles as he hummed in amusement. He grinned; mood shifting from nothing but a shock to a rise of pleasure from mere touches.

“I’ve been impatient,” you noted.

“I see,” Mikey chuckled, dipping his lips close to yours, and he shifted on the blanket, furiously pushing it to the side. His clothed erection met your sensitive spot, causing you to throw your head back against the pillow. “Waitin’ for me, pretty? Let me reward you for being so cute and sexy.”

“You flatter me,” you joked.

“Anything for my sweet, precious wife,” Mikey said, leaning back to bite on your bottom lip. “M’gon’ ruin you all fucking night, you—”

“Daddy!”

In an instant, Mikey rolled over to the edge of the bed, nearly tumbling down to the floor on his chest. Heaving, his eyes shifted to the bedroom door, where his child fumbled in with tear-stained eyes. Aggressively, he rummaged to his pants, shakily putting them on in hopes of quickly hiding his large bulge peeking from his underwear.

“What is it, baby girl?” Mikey cooed, voice brightening. “You should be sleeping at this hour.”

“Buuut,” his little girl whined, fighting back a cry. “I didn’t get to see Daddy before I went to bed and I got scared he was gone forever.”

“Oh, sweet dove,” Mikey pouted, quivering his bottom lip while shoving his pants further up his lap. Soon, he inched a hand to have his child run over to him, where he playfully bit her earlobe only to have her cry out nothing but enchanting giggles. “Daddies need to sleep too, and mama has to get her rest, yeah? But I’ll always come home to my girls. Especially for you—” Mikey poked his child’s nose; a giggle was returned. “—since I can’t survive without my sweet dove by my side!”

The young child grinned. “Bedtime story before I go back to Dreamland?”

Mikey smiled, closing his eyes. “One story, lovely. Then it’s off to bed, ‘kay? Daddy has work in the morning.”

“Okay!”

Your daughter ran away into the hallway, singing along a song about ice cream before you let out an exhausted sigh, running a hand across your forehead. Soon, your lips were met with Mikey’s, where he rubbed a hand against your clothed thighs, eventually teasing around your sensitive buds hidden beneath the pajama top as his fingers worked his way up. Groaning in dissatisfaction with his tease, Mikey smirked, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Wait for me, my love,” he whispered. “Won’t take long. I will be yours all night tonight.”

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔

Sanzu trailed in, tip-toeing across the floor so that the gentle creaks wouldn’t awaken his daughter in the next room. Sighing deeply, he walked into the shared bedroom where he took in the liberty of shaking his legs out of his pants. Groggily, he noticed your sleeping figure—only to smirk when your eyes fluttered open at his sight.

He stood out from the pale moonlight peeking in through the windows. “Couldn’t sleep without me, angel?” Sanzu noted with a grin. “Love that you wait for me but you need to rest too.”

“You take too long to undress,” you snarled playfully before grabbing ahold of his waist and his eyes widened, watching you nibble across the band of his underwear while rubbing your hand against his clothed erection. “Making me more impatient as the clock ticks.”

“Oh, dear,” Sanzu smirked cheekily, leaning in close to bite on your earlobe. “You’re eager for me, aren’t you?”

Slowly, he placed kisses along your jawline, causing you to giggle before his hands took note of your breasts, and he rubbed along the sensitive bud underneath the silky pajamas he bought you a week ago. Nothing satisfied him more than hearing your breathy moans—all from the gentle touch of his fingers, where they slowly trailed down to the hem of your panties before he eased you further into the bed.

“M’gonna ruin you tonight. Got the day off tomorrow, so,” Sanzu chuckled close to your ear, slowly grinding into you. “It’s only you and—”

“Daddy?”

The young feminine voice echoed throughout the hall, where Sanzu’s eyes enlarged before he quickly hopped off to grab ahold of his clothes. His legs shuffled through his pants right before the bedroom door slowly opened, where his eyes met with his younger daughter—wearing nothing but unicorn pajamas with wide-saddening eyes.

“Oh, princess!” Sanzu called out, running a hand through his hair. “It’s very late, you know? Daddy needs to get his sleep too. Why aren’t you being a good girl and staying in bed now?”

Your younger daughter whined with a pout. “Because Daddy didn’t get to sing me a lullaby before bed.”

Fighting back a snort, you turned away as Sanzu eyed you cautiously before standing up. He bent down, grabbing ahold of his daughter as she wailed out for mercy before he peppered kisses all over her forehead. Sanzu began singing a song about flying cars and how he was the toughest daddy in the world, only to hear nothing but happy giggles from his daughter’s lips.

“You better fight Uncle Mikey then, baby girl,” Sanzu pouted, furrowing his eyebrows. “Because he keeps me away from you and mama,” he placed a finger on his daughter’s nose before gasping. “How about I sing you two lullabies before bed? That way my baby can fall asleep and I can go off to bed with mommy, then?”

“Okay!” Your daughter cried out with a grin before Sanzu placed her down.

She scurried out of the room, nearly skipping out the door. Sanzu sighed, shaking his head tiredly before gazing back at you, smirking with a shrug. You watched him lean in to bite your neck harshly, soon to keep his hands on your breaths as he continued to rub your buds underneath the cloth—you groaned to his ears; he smirked at that, and Sanzu pulled away, whistling a cheeky tune.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, pretty,” his tongue stuck out. “I still have to eat my dessert before bed.”

𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈

Inching his way further into the bedroom, Rindou made his way to the shared bed before he could let out a tired exhale. Slowly, he undressed from unbuttoning his top to removing his pants, and your eyes opened at the sight of him. He watched you, hungrily, only to have him shake his head and sigh.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Rindou pouted. “Missed you—but aren’t you tired?”

“I am,” you responded. “I was waiting for you.”

“Angel, I love you, but you must be tired ‘cause our little princess can keep you up all day,” he chuckled with a nod. “I’ll get in bed with you then we can—”

You grabbed a hold of his wrist, where his top was only halfway buttoned. Rindou fought back a yelp of surprise and he tumbled on you, where you perked up to place your lips along his jaw, nibbling on his skin. Fighting back a quiet moan, his head shook to where his own lips can play along with your neck.

“Feisty, I see?” He chuckled deeply, placing his hand further down to meet with your panties. “Even wore my favorite color too—someone had been waiting for me.”

“Shut up.”

“Love you,” Rindou grinned, only to push a kiss onto your lips while he slowly rolled his hips into you, causing you to quietly moan against his mouth. His eyes widened as he started to push the top up so he could place kisses underneath your breasts. “Quiet now, baby. Don’t wanna wake the little one up now, do we?”

“Aah Rindou,” you let out a shaky breath, where his tongue trailed along your chest. “Please, touch—”

“Daddy! Are you there?”

“The hell?” He quipped, and in an instant, Rindou jumped off the bed immediately where he grabbed onto his crumbled pants on the floor as you shuffled beneath the blanket. The bedroom door widened, where your younger daughter stood there crying with her dog stuffed animal in her hands. During the bits of her cries, Rindou attempted to throw his pants on in the midst of the crisis.

“Baby girl, what is it?” Rindou asked; his voice reaching a high peak—only meant for you and his daughter to hear. “Bad dream? Did the scary monsters wake my little princess up on her way to Dreamland?”

“Daddy,” she cried out. “I missed you. You got eaten by the big wolf in my dream.”

Fighting back a laugh, you covered your mouth as Rindou blinked absentmindedly. He coughed into his fist, only to pout with large eyes. “Oh nooo, that’s so sad,” Rindou gritted his teeth, unsure of how to properly respond. “But I’m here now. Daddy’s alive and well.”

Your young daughter ran to throw her hands around Rindou’s neck, where she let out a muffled sob into his shoulder. “Daddy’s tough. He can fight anyone, can’t he?” She cried out, and Rindou bit his bottom lip from laughing. ‘If only you knew, sweetheart,’ he thought. “I want Daddy to be with me forever.”

“And I will always be with you and mama, ‘kay?” Rindou grinned, placing kisses on her forehead. “Let me read you a bedtime story and I promise that I will fight the big nasty wolf in your dream this time.”

“You will?”

“Anything to protect my little girl.”

“Yay!” She yelled out loud, clapping her hands before skipping out into the room. “Bedtime story with Daddy!”

Rindou’s eyes twitched once the bedroom door slammed shut. He turned to you, raising a brow. “M’not sure if she really had a nightmare, to begin with… or if she’s playing an act for a bedtime story, but…” his voice trailed off, where his smirk fell onto you.

“Don’t leave our daughter waiting,” you said.

Rindou grinned, where he threw his palm across your clothed clit and he nibbled along your shoulders. You watched him rub his clothed erection from his wrinkled pants with an undone belt. He laughed in amusement, clearly finding your reaction to be pleasurable to his ears as desperate moans quietly escaped your lips.

“Can’t keep my beautiful wife waiting either,” he winked. “Stay up for me, my angel. Won’t be long.”

𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈

Watching your body snake underneath the covers, Ran chuckles while shaking his head, slowly removing his tie. He took note of your sleepy figure, with your dousy eyes and slight heavy breathing—only to be showered with his kisses all over your face which caused your eyes to wriggle open from Ran’s gentle acts of affection. He laughed, removing his blazer before tossing it to the black chair next to him.

“Go sleep, baby,” Ran stated, running a hand through his hair. “Our little one must’ve kept your cute ass up all morning, yeah?”

“She kept me up all day, actually,” you argued, shaking your head before dipping back into the comfy pillow.

Ran chuckled in amusement, following suit while he wriggled out of his pants. Your eyes scanned him; tender bruises ranging from small cuts as you recalled the moments he spoke to his younger daughter that he could fight a bear and was a tough man. Almost hilarious. Right when he leaned over the edge of the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Time for bed, hottie,” he joked.

Right before he tucked himself to the other side of the bed, you grabbed ahold of his neck and swung him around to where your body rested on top of him. He parted his lips, groggily raising his eyebrows only before he puckered his lips in suit, and he grinned cheekily, rubbing his hands against your sides.

“Oh?” Ran’s head tilted. “What a pleasant surprise, cutie. Didn’t think you had enough energy in you.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Your response caused him to push forward; lips smacking one another, and his hands slowly dipped down the crook of your back only to meet his palm near your hips. He tousled over the sheets, straightening his lips with your warmth sensitive spot hitting his growing erection.

Ran decided to cave in, kissing down your jawline only to rub his teeth against the sweet skin—with moans of delicacy barely fanning out from your lips. The sound he found entertainment in hearing—just right before he could pinch your skin with his fingers while he chuckled grimly beneath your grasp.

“Actin’ so sexy for me, yeah?” Ran noted. “Just all for—”

“Daddy… are you home?”

Ran’s eyes enlarged where he tossed you over the bed, causing you to yelp out in response, dragging the blanket down with you. He shuffled alongside the wrinkled covers, only to grab onto his pants and crinkled top. The bedroom door slowly creaked, where his youngest daughter peeked in to see her father’s pants undone and a hurriedly rushed-on white top.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ran chuckled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “What’re you doin’ up, love? It’s past bedtime for you! The bunnies are gonna miss having their queen in their dreams, aren’t they?”

Your younger daughter clutched onto her stuffed animal, running towards Ran as you managed to cover your body with the thin blanket.

“Daddy, I had a nightmare…” she pouted, staring down.

“Oh, no, baby!” Ran gasped playfully, picking up his daughter before placing her on his lap. He shook her around joyfully, humming a quiet tune. “My sweet girl, you must’ve been so scared. The bunnies didn’t protect you in your nightmare? I’ll have to teach them a lesson then!”

“Can you sleep with me, Daddy? I’m too scared…”

“Mama can’t be on her own either,” Ran laughed, only to ignore the pillow thrown at the back of his head from your mild protest behind him. “Say, let me read you a bedtime story, and I’ll stay in your room until you fall asleep. I’ll even turn the other nightlight on for you, sweetheart. How’s that sound?”

Your daughter sighed, covering her eyes. “You’ll stay with me forever, right?”

“Of course, my princess,” Ran kissed her forehead. “Run to your bedroom and I’ll be chasing right after you, okay?”

Slowly, the younger one kept a hold of her pout, where she dragged the stuffed animal onto the carpet to meet her exit to the bedroom door. Once the door closed, Ran exhaled deeply before shaking his head. He watched you struggle onto the bed, heaving out an annoyed breath while he giggled darkly, only to place a harsh push on your chest.

“Be a lil’ more patient for me, yeah?” Ran spoke close to your lips. “Then I’m gonna bite and love you all night, beautiful.”

𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐈

He tiptoed into the bedroom, darting his eyes back at his daughter’s bedroom door, which was closed shut and Kokonoi was able to peek out the small bits of illumination coming from her nightlight. Exhaling sharply, he closed the door behind him to see you glancing back at him; the lamp still dimly lit and he shot a puzzled look.

“You’re still up, baby?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Thought that you fell asleep already. Our little princess must’ve kept you up all night, hasn’t she?”

Your head shook, following a sigh. “She has. Talking about how she wants Daddy to buy her this new dollhouse and all that.”

“Oh, really?” He chuckled while undoing his belt. “You’ll get mad at me for spoiling her too much. M’gonna tone that down just a bit.”

“Really?”

“Don’t want you getting too feisty on me,” his eyes rolled.

Kokonoi gasped once you grabbed his wrist, pulling him close to where your lips barely fanned alongside the hem of his underwear. Starting to protest, but only to stop himself before running his hands along your side, where Kokonoi trailed the tips of his fingers around the curves of your breasts—a good show, only hidden beneath the sweet, expensive pajama top you bestowed in front of him.

“I take that back,” Kokonoi smirked. “Kind of want that feisty side of you right now, pretty.”

Kneeling up, his lips connected with yours, where his tongue begged for entrance in an instant once he swiped it across the plump lips. Hands tucked into your shorts, with his fingers toying with the top of the thin panties. Groaning once your palm pressed against his erection, he dipped his head down; mouth pressed against the neck.

“So perfect, beautiful, amazing...” Kokonoi whispered, voice carved to meet for your ears only. “And I get to have you all for—”

“Daddy! Dada!”

Without warning, Kokonoi pushed you into the bed and flipped the blankets over your body. “Shit,” he swore, rummaging through his pants, continuing to curse underneath his breath when the belt was sloppily unbuckled. With the bedroom door creaking open, he swept close to the floor, where he shot an innocent grin towards his younger daughter.

“Hi, my pretty lady,” he started. “Why are you up at this—”

“Daaaaddy!” She let out a howling sob. “A big green monster chased me in my dreams!”

“Oh, darling,” he pouted, holding his arms up for his daughter to sprint over immediately. She began to wail; his hands tucked close behind her neck as he softly sang a song about money falling from the trees—and Kokonoi ignored your glare at him for that. “I’ll always protect my girls. You and mama are everything to me, angel.”

“I can’t go to bed without Daddy!”

“You’re a big strong girl, sweetie,” Kokonoi shushed her carefully to where he poked her cheek. “Let me sing you a lullaby before you go to bed. How’s that sound, honey?”

She let out a quiet wail. “Please protect me, Dada.”

Kokonoi grinned, kissing her forehead. “Always, princess. I’ll be your knight in shining armor. Now, run off to your bed and I will follow you.”

In an instant, her cry died down, and your daughter nodded aggressively; Kokonoi took note of that, and she hopped from his lap, only to dart out of the bedroom—she casually sang along to a song about talking trees before her voice vanished from the end of the hall. He stood up, shaking his head before twirling around to cup his hands around your waist.

Kokonoi bit your neck sweetly, just before kissing along the growing bruise. “I’m all yours soon, baby. Just stay up for me a little while longer, then I can love you ‘til morning.”

𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎

Kakucho stomped on his cigarette right before walking into the door, only to dust off any bits of the tobacco that had fallen on his top. Fighting back yawns, he made his way into the house—watching every bit of his movement as he waltzed his way up the stairs to avoid the floor creaking its way to waking either you or his daughter up.

Much to his surprise, his eyes widened when you tousled on the bed, sharing glances where he sent off a genuine smile. Eyes glistening from the light peeking in through the curtains—portraying nothing but concern.

“Why are you up, love?” He asked, unbuttoning his top while wriggling out of his office pants. “What have I told you about getting some proper sleep? I worry for your health too.”

“Just c’mere,” you slurred, fighting back an eye roll. “Missed you all day.”

“I missed you too, gorgeous,” he leaned in to kiss your cheek, only to have him hold back a scowl once you pulled him closer into the bed, where his body slouched on top of you. “Ah, love. You don’t seem tired at all, yeah?”

“Not at all.”

“Damn you,” Kakucho grinned, allowing you to sprinkle kisses along his jaw. “Fuck. Had to be beautiful, amazing, breathtaking, and perfect for me. You know I just can’t resist—”

“Mommy, I think Daddy’s home!”

“She’s not in bed?” Kakucho whispered sharply, before he did a swift roll of the bed. His hands darted for his top while he fiddled with the belt buckle of his pants, attempting to cover the small bit of his underwear peeking out. “Shit, shit, what the hell—”

“Daddy! I’ve been waiting for you!”

Before you could sit up and protest at your daughter, Kakucho laughed wholeheartedly while he took a seat on the bed. With the little one running up to him, his arms held onto her tight; giggles arousing the air, nothing but sweetness to your ears, and he shook his head in displeasure. This earned a pout from your daughter.

“And tell me, why are you up, honey?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “Bedtime was a while ago for you. I don’t want you stayin’ up late for Daddy, now.”

“I wanted you to tell me the bedtime story of the Gingerbread Man, again,” she sighed, voice toning down. “It’s always the best when Daddy tells me bedtime stories before bed.”

Kakucho sighed, rubbing her head playfully. “You need to get some shut-eye too, sweetie. You’re gon’ make me worry for you and have me go bald.”

“You’d look funny.”

“Exactly,” he quipped before poking his nose with hers; a laugh followed suit from her lips. “Let’s get you to bed. And I’ll read you the story all over again but then it’s bedtime for you, alright?”

“Fine,” she exhaled while letting out a yawn right after.

Your daughter walked over to the door before hurriedly running down the hallway, already in the mind of picking up all her toys from the floor. And Kakucho shook his head while glancing towards you gazing at him with knitted brows. “Parenting’s no joke, huh?” You said, only before he leaned in to dust kisses along your neck.

Kakucho sprinkled his kisses down to your collarbone, nearly nibbling on the skin while his fingers ghostly tickle your jawline. “And my love for you is no joke, either,” he cooed. “Now wait for me until I get back, gorgeous. Then I’m all yours for the night.”

tags: @spoofybun @sonder-paradise @duckiichan @nullified-kiss @ravenina14 @3-am-depression @manjirose @feralfordazai

[polyamorousmood]

[discussing partners]: yeah they get me so many gifts! Haha, sometimes I can't eat the candy quick enough boomer boss: singular "they" is incorrect. I try to be respectful but it just hurts my brain. It was drilled into me in school My polyam ass: yes! Singular they! That is what I was using just now.

[siempre-bucky]

I love Rory & Orla! They are the best made up kids I will ever have! My idea is silly. One or both of them are home from college and they go out with their friends & return home drunk. What shenanigans happen? Who's powers go off strangely? Who gets caught trying to make a weird sandwich? Or which parent takes turns babysitting? Just silly chaos...

Dad!Druig x Reader

I'm so glad you like them my love! I really enjoyed writing these :') i like exploring these fictional kids! I took a little creative liberty here!

being an Eternal made it more difficult to become drunk

Orla had never been blackout drunk before

until Phastos' family decided to visit

and she showed Jack one of the best pubs in Dublin

they were having a good time

a few beers in

and then a few of the lads from the university approached her

"A lady like yer self can't handle all that," one of them taunted, pointing to her empty glass

Jack's eyes went a little wider as he saw his friend smirk

"Orla, don't," he pleaded

"Oh yeah? I can out drink all of you," she responded with an overly sweet tone, batting her eyelashes

all Jack could do was watch as Orla drank the lads under the table

he politely smiled whenever she'd look back at him with a wide proud grin

"Jack," Orla whined as they walked home from the bar, carrying her high heels in her hand

Jack has his hands in his jacket pockets, walking a few steps ahead of her

"You did this to yourself," he smirked

"I can't go home," she started to cry, stomping her foot on the pavement

Jack stopped and turned around

Orla's makeup running from all the tears

"My dad's gonna kill me!"

"Uncle Druig won't kill you, Orla."

"Yes he will, you don't know him!" she sobbed

Jack rolled his eyes and held her by the wrist to drag her home

"Why is she crying?" you asked as he dragged your daughter into the living room

"She's... lack of a better word, shitfaced, Aunt Y/N."

you started to laugh as Orla collided with your chest

turning up your nose at the overwhelming smell of beer

"Oh, honey...let's get you to bed. Thank you for watching over her, Jack."

"Where's dad?" she asked as she got into bed

you covered her in her blanket as she started to cry again

"Out with Phastos?"

"Good. He's gonna be so mad at me."

You started to cackle, "Oh baby no. You should've seen him one night in Babylon. Reminds me of you now, tears and all."

Rory wasn't the kind of college kid who liked to go to parties

sure he had a drink here and there

but he'd much rather work on one of his paintings

"Let's go, kid," Kingo cheered as he ripped off Rory's headphones

"What the hell?" Rory gasped

Kingo held up a large jug of Asgardian beer

Rory looked at his door

Phastos and Gilgamesh had encouraging smiles

Gil even gave him a thumbs up

"Campus parties were always my favorite to crash," Kingo admitted as he pried the small paintbrushes from the young Eternals' hands, placing them in the dirty paint water

the men dragged him down the stairs

Druig pulled on his leather jacket, smirking as they descended the stairs

"Not you too," Rory whined

Druig leaned in and adjusted the bracelet on his wrist

"Your mom's making me go to watch over you. I know these guys too well."

who knew Rory would be the chatty drunk

he stood with some of the other kids in the corner

beer bottles in hand as they swapped stories

laughing and pushing each other around playfully

"I think you gave him too much, Kingo. He never talks this much," Gil joked

Druig stood in the corner, avoiding the stares of the girls making eyes at him

he watched Rory carefully from afar

things were fine until he stood up on one of the crates

"Do the lot of ya wanna see something?" Rory shouted with a slurred voice

"Shit." Druig lurched forward as he saw the start of cosmic lines of energy form around Rory's forearm

the crowed of young adults' eyes turned gold

Kingo and Gil quickly grabbed Rory by the arms, dragging him out of the party

"I see why he doesn't go out," Phastos chuckled as he nudged Druig's shoulder

Druig nudged him back as they walked out, trying to conceal his laugh

[xocasper]

Blame It on the Heat

Pairing: Kobra Kid x Reader Summary: It's an unbearably hot day in the Zones, but there's something hotter right outside the diner - your best friend, Kobra. Warnings: NSFW content Tags: fingering, semi-public sex, friends to lovers Word Count: 2155 A/N: There isn't enough Kobra Kid smut, so I took it upon myself to write some. Write the smut you want to see in the world.

“Why is it so damn hot out?” Ghoul groaned, stretching out on a seat in the diner. You had just gotten back from a supply run, and you were more than grateful to be in the cool confinements of the diner.

“Because we live in the desert, dumbass,” Party responded, who was sick of listening to his friend complain about the heat all day. Ghoul pouted at his response and prepared to start a squabble.

“At least I don’t cosplay as the American flag.”

“I do not look like the American flag!” Party, ever the anarchist, took his words personally and looked to Jet for support, who just shook his head and continued to tinker with the radio.

“C’mon, you see it too, don’t you?” Ghoul giggled, glancing at you as if you would give in. Like Jet, you knew better to feed into their petty arguments. With your arms raised in surrender, you swung your legs over the worn cushions and left in search of Kobra.

Kobra was your favorite. You had met him after saving his ass from a group of Draculoids, and after getting over the initial shock of the situation, he asked you to join his gang. He had always been very sweet to you, making sure to retell the whole story to his friends that night so you could get the recognition you deserve. That was months ago though, and your bond had only strengthened over time.

You pushed through the metal doors, burning your hands slightly and feeling a wave of heat as you stepped out of the diner. The sound of your boots scuffing against the dusty ground made Kobra lift his head to see you, and the view before you had your head spinning.

There he was, and god was he a sight for sore eyes. His t-shirt lay discarded next to him, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his lean figure. His bleached hair was unkempt, loose strands sticking to his forehead, and his hands were stained with oil from his motorcycle. The scene definitely stirred something inside of you, causing several vulgar thoughts to plague your mind.

Kobra’s eyes softened upon seeing you, beckoning you over while still crouched next to his motorcycle. When you didn’t say anything, he took the liberty of speaking first.

“Did you come out here for something or were you just planning on ogling at me all day?” he joked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Nah, Party and Ghoul are bickering again and I didn’t feel like getting in the middle of it.”

He offered you a sympathetic smile and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, him fixing up his bike, and you admiring him. Maybe you shouldn’t stare so blatantly, but if he had an issue with it he’d probably let you know.

As the minutes passed, it only seemed to get hotter, the California sun beating down on you and undoubtedly leaving burns for you to treat later. You couldn’t help but complain about it, and Kobra promised that he would finish up soon and you could go sit in the shade.

The next few minutes were spent watching the man, how he’d furrow his brow as he rifled through his tools or the way he’d bite his lip while he surveyed his work. A sense of guilt swirled in your stomach with each passing thought. Obviously, you didn’t want to make your friend uncomfortable, but that was the problem.

You had never just been friends with Kobra. Sure, you had always found him attractive but you were typically able to push it down. Perhaps it was the heat getting to you, but you could hardly find the decency to suppress your desires.

Kobra finished up while you were spacing out, standing up tall and staring back down at you. Somehow he looked even more attractive from this angle, fogging up your mind for a moment as you met his gaze. It may have been a blossoming sunburn, but you could’ve sworn he was blushing.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, hauling yourself up via his arms, and pulled him into the shade on the side of the diner. He still hadn’t said anything, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts. Once you were tucked away under the shadow of the carport, you turned to face him, planting your hands on either side of his face so you were directly in his line of sight. Your eyes squinted in question, and he stood stiff as you observed him.

“What’s wrong?” A frown found its way onto your face as you asked him, and he appeared to be equally confused. He let out a breath and shook his head before answering.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You’re especially... distant today.”

He chuckled a bit at that, as you had also been acting odd.

“You’re one to talk.” You smiled at how stubborn he was, giving up on your interrogation and deciding that it was probably best to blame it on the heat. He slid down to the ground, tugging you with him, and together you sat in the shade, cooling down from the torrid temperature.

Despite feeling his stare, you continued to watch the clouds move, figuring if you looked back at him you’d jump his bones right there. You didn’t pay him any attention until you felt him take hold of your hand, and at that point, he was back to studying the sky with you.

Kobra could absolutely tell you were watching him, but he was too anxious to say anything, so he was incredibly relieved when you made the first move.

You twisted your body just enough to face him, one hand still in his, while the other brushed along his jawline. He tilted his head to the side, settling it in your cupped hand as you leaned in to kiss him. It was sweet and tender, and he brought his hand up to rest under your chin, pulling you closer.

You reluctantly pulled away to catch your breath, resting your forehead against his. With stupid smiles slapped across your faces, you refilled your lungs to dive back in again, and it was even better than the last.

There was no hesitance this time, allowing you to truly experience the kiss. His lips were soft, moving in time with yours. He let go of your hand to pull you into his lap, keeping a firm grip on your hips, while yours hung around his neck. Upon moving them, you realized that he had left his shirt on his bike, sending a flood of salacious thoughts through your head.

A surge of adrenaline ran through you as he parted your lips with the tip of his tongue, effortlessly taking your breath away. Kobra’s mouth was warm and wet, and the way he flicked his tongue against yours sent you spiraling. He caressed your waist as the kiss deepened, refusing to move his hands from their current position.

You ground your hips against his in an attempt to relieve the discomfort between your legs, triggering a moan from him. It was like music to your fucking ears.

He groaned softly as you pulled away, tucking yourself into the side of his neck and leaving marks that the guys would tease him for later. You inhaled his aroma, feeling fuzzy as it flooded your sinuses. Kobra always smelled nice; it was one of your favorite things about him. You always felt a sense of comfort when he would lend you his jacket, or on sleepless nights when the only thing to tranquilize you was your best friend’s embrace. Now having your lips pressed to his skin and feeling the same warmth was almost dizzying.

You ran your hands down his chest as you left gentle bites across his collarbones, scratching softly and earning small noises from him. Growing restless yourself, you leaned back up to whisper some direction.

“Touch me, Kobra.”

His head lolled back as you traced the shell of his ear with your tongue, placing your hands over his to slide them up to your chest. Kobra made quick work of your top and bra, tossing them to the side and stroking the sensitive skin. The sight of him lowering his head to your chest combined with how his mouth felt made a warm feeling flood your abdomen.

He kissed and bit your skin the way you had done to him, breath fanning across your nipples, making you writhe beneath him. You whined high in your throat as he flattened his tongue against one, and rolled the other between his fingers. He had grown painfully hard, his erection poking at your thigh while you rubbed yourself against him, desperate for any kind of friction.

Eventually, you both grew impatient, and he decided to initiate things this time. He moved his hands down to your jeans, tugging lightly and the waistband as if waiting for permission, and only slipped his hand down after you mumbled your consent.

His fingers swept over your wet folds, gathering up your slick before pushing inside. The fact that it was  him  that made you this wet ignited something in him, and he was struck with a need to make you feel good.

You had always really loved his hands, so having his fingers buried inside you was something out of a wet dream. Your breath caught in your throat as he continued to pump in and out of you, gasping when his thumb brushed against your clit. A small cry fell past your lips as he curled his fingers inside of you, making him repeat the action a few more times before pulling his hand away.

He brought them to his mouth next, sucking them clean and pulling you in for a messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. As erotic as it all was, your need to have him back inside you was growing stronger by the second, and you knew his pants were uncomfortably tight.

“I want you to fuck me,” you told him breathlessly.

The sound he made was nothing but carnal desire, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He pulled you up with him as he got to his feet, arm still wrapped around you as he helped you out of your jeans. You unbuckled his belt as he watched with rapt attention, mouth falling slightly open when you took him out of his boxers. His breath shuddered as you stroked him gently, but he soon lifted you up and pressed you against the wall.

A small hiss escaped you as he thrust inside, and though it hurt, you wanted nothing more than for him to move. He held you for a moment before he pushed in completely, allowing you to adjust. As the pain blurred into pleasure, you let go of your inhibitions, letting a lust-filled haze take over your mind.

Kobra set a steady rhythm, focusing on going deep rather than fast. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him impossibly close. Lewd noises flowed freely from both of you, only elevating the experience.

A familiar feeling began to build in your abdomen as time went on, and you noticed how Kobra’s thrusts grew sloppier and his breathing became more erratic. Nothing you said was coherent anymore, simply an indecipherable mix of curses and your lover’s name.

You just about sobbed into his shoulder as you hit your orgasm, and the whole world stopped for a second. He fucked you through it, and quickly pulled out to release. Everything faded to black and you clung to him out of exhaustion. He helped you lean against the wall while he cleaned you both up because you were out of it.

After getting dressed and sharing many kisses, the two of you headed back inside, fully prepared for an excessive amount of mocking.

Which is exactly what you received.

Upon entering the diner, you and Kobra were met with very mixed reactions. Party was revolted, Ghoul was grinning maliciously, and Jet just wanted to be left alone.

“Can you not fuck within earshot next time?” Party asked with a scowl, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Before either of you could respond, Ghoul jumped in with an over-the-top impression of you and Kobra, filling the diner with high-pitched moans and effectively embarrassing the two of you.

Kobra dragged you away to the other room before you could castrate your friend, where he kissed you again and then sprung the question that was on both of your minds.

“So what does this make us?”

“Well, I think we’ve wasted enough time beating around the bush, so I vote that we just date already.”

A small smile made its way onto his face and he looked into your eyes, sparkling with newfound passion.

“I think that’s perfect.”

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

[beauvibaby]

emergency contact — m.tkachuk

a/n: a random fic that I finally finished!!

word count: 2.4K

You groaned, the buzzing from your phone was stirring you from your sleep, it was nearly three am. No one would call you this early for no reason, so you suddenly came to your senses, scrambling to answer it. “Hello, hello.” You rushed, hardly getting to it in time. “Is this Y/F/N?” The lady’s voice came across delicately which only caused your heart rate to pick up. “Yes.” You sat up in the bed, flipping your lamp on as she began speaking across the line. “My name is Diane, I’m calling from St. Alexius Hospital, your brother, Matthew has been brought in from a car accident, you were listed as his emergency contact.” She explained, you flew out of the bed, “is he ok?” You were rushing around, pulling on whatever clean clothes you could find first. “He’ll be fine, I’m not at liberty to discuss the details over the phone.” She spoke calmly, you nodded, before realizing she couldn’t see you. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You quickly hung up, yanking your jeans on in a rush, you forced any nervous thoughts to the back of your mind. He would be fine, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself, he was the only family you had left, he had to be fine.

Your feet carried you into the hospital emergency room before your mind could catch up, you reached the counter and blankly stared for a moment, you read her name tag, Diane. “I’m Y/F/N, I’m here to see-” “Ah, yes, for Matthew?” She cut you off, flipping through the papers on her desk. “Room 113.” She pointed you down the hall, and you were off, speed walking down the hall, your shoes sounding loud against the linoleum floor in the early morning. 109, 110, 111, 112, you froze outside of his room, clearly it couldn’t have been that bad if he was alone. You heard a groan from inside the room and you came to your senses, you pushed the curtain aside, “Matthew.” You whispered, and then looked up, the stranger in the bed looking at you with raised eyebrows. “You’re not my brother.” You gasped, and then realized you were standing in his room still, “I’m so sorry, uh, feel better.” You saw the cast on his arm and a bruise forming just under his eyes. “I’m not complaining.” He mumbled with a lazy smile, it captivated you, the way his blue eyes lit up as you smiled back at him. “But no I’m not, my name is Matthew though.” He muttered, coughing lightly, reaching for the water, it was just out of his reach so you walked over and handed it to him. “Here you go.” You whispered, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the cup, “I have to go, I-I’m here to see my brother.” You gave him a smile, going to rush out of the room but as you turned, Diane came running in, out of breath.

“There was a mix up, I’m so sorry.” She rushed, Matthew looking between you and her, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Is my brother even here?!” You snapped, relieved but angry at the same time. She shook her head and you scrambled to pull your phone out of your pocket, dialing your brother’s number. You bounced on your feet as it rang and rang, “Y/N? Why are you calling so late?” He grumbled into the phone, “Matthew!” You cried in relief, “you’re ok?” You asked, “of course I’m ok, why wouldn’t I be?” He sounded confused, “nothing, uh, it’s a long story, I’ll call you later.” You hung up, arms crossed as you glared at Diane. “Miss Y/L/N, I am so sorry.” She apologized again, you could only nod weakly. “I’m so sorry, uh, Matthew.” You turned to the guy in the bed, he had to be right around your age. “I really hope you feel better.” And with that, you rushed out the door, over run by the emotions you just went through.

That was almost a week ago.

Five days if we’re being specific.

“Mom is going to kill me if she finds out I let you drive.” You tuned into the conversation a girl was having with what you could only assume is her brother from the way she spoke to him. You kept your eyes focused down on the cup of coffee and laptop before you, but your ears perked up. “That’s why she isn’t going to find out, right Taryn?” He quipped back at her, you couldn’t fully place it but his voice had an oddly familiar tone. Not one that you knew well, but as if you had heard it before. You continued typing away on your laptop, forcing yourself to stop eavesdropping on their conversation, a message came up on your screen and you became so engrossed in it that you didn’t even notice as Matthew walked past your table with a small gasp, dragging his sister along.

“That’s her!” He whispered to his sister, who only looked at him confused, “that’s the girl from the hospital.” He groaned, running a hand through his curly hair. Only making it look messier. Taryn glanced at you, and at him, then back and forth once more. “You couldn’t pull her.” She teased him, earning a light flick to the arm from him. “I totally could!” He defended, panicking when your head popped up, you glanced around but didn’t notice him. “Well aren’t you going to go say something?” Taryn nudged him, taking his coffee from his not broken arm, and setting it down beside hers on the table. “What am I going to say? ‘Oh hey, not sure if you remember me but you barged into my hospital room last week because you thought I was your brother’? That’s not going to work.” He rambled, too caught up in his own words to notice his sister walking towards you until it was too late. She simply sat across from you, making your body jump back.

“Uh, hello?” You spoke hesitantly, sliding your laptop closer to you, eyeing the random girl skeptically. “Hi, my name is Taryn, I think you met my brother, Matthew over there, in the hospital last week?” She smiled politely at you, pointing to the corner of the cafe were you turned and saw Matthew looking over with wide eyes and pink cheeks, he offered a small wave, wincing when he used the arm in a cast. You giggled under your breath, waving back, “I did.” You confirmed, “I’m Y/N.” You added, turning back to Taryn, “well you see, he hasn’t really shut up about you since then, he thinks you’re really pretty, so I figured I’d come try and help him have a chance to talk to you.” She explained with a grin, occasionally glancing at her brother, who you could only assume had turned more red. “I’d love to talk to him.” You assured her, slowly closing your laptop, holding back a large smile when she grinned, rushing off, you heard them bickering before Matthew approached, awkwardly sitting where his sister just was. “Hi.” He hadn’t struck you as one to be shy when you first met him, “hi.” You repeated, leaning back in your seat. “How’s the arm?” You teased, glancing down to his cast. “It’s getting there.” He shrugged, looking up and meeting your eyes. “I’m really glad they called you.” He added, ah, there’s the confidence you were looking for. You rested your elbows on the table, holding your chin lightly in your hand, “are you?” You cocked your head to the side, smiling as he blushed.

“I am.” He confirmed, placing his phone up on the table, “so why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll take you out to dinner.” He spoke softly, a small hint of nervousness to his voice. “You know, as payment for emotional trauma at the very least.” He joked, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I think that sounds fair.” You picked up his phone, adding yourself to his contacts. “Good thing I’m the only Y/N you know.” You handed him his phone, smiling as his fingers brushed yours, it sounded cliche, and you hated to even think it, but even the simple touch sent your heart into a frenzy. “Mhm, good thing.” He agreed, staying seated, “you know, if we kept talking this could almost be like a first date.” He raised an eyebrow, you noticed the small smirk on his lips. “I think I can spare some time.” You smiled sweetly at him, diving into conversation. You both covered a lot of things, from work, which caught you off guard for sure when you heard what he does, to family, all the way down to embarrassing childhood stories.

“Alright, I’ve waited as long as I can wait, Matty, we need to go.” Taryn interrupted, looking down at her brother from where he was still sitting, you checked the time on your phone and you were embarrassed to see it had been nearly two hours. “Oh my god, Taryn, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, Matthew smiling at the interaction as his sister brushed it off. “It’s fine.” She turned back to him, who was lost in his happiness, “so, Matty.” You teased, gathering your things, “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” You stood up, pushing your purse onto your shoulder, he followed, standing in front of you, he ducked down to press a kiss to your cheek. “You’ll definitely be hearing from me.” He smirked, walking off with his sister while you blushed furiously, he glanced back and you shot him a wink, you two were made for each other.

“So, tomorrow?”

You giggled at your phone as you walked to your car, already getting a message from him. You bit your lip as you smiled, typing a quick response to leave him on his toes while you drive home.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

You put your phone on silent to avoid getting distracted while you drove, but you could tell it vibrated a couple of times on the seat. It felt like forever until you got home, but once you did, you and Matthew texted the rest of the day, setting up plans for you both to meet at a restaurant not too far from your house the next day.

You were a little nervous, just because first dates were always nerve wracking, but otherwise you were calm, you knew you’d have a good time. You smoothed out your pants, looking down at the printed material, you adjusted your tucked in lace camisole, tugging your cardigan on over top, a chic yet comfortable outfit, paired with some heeled boots. Your hair falling down your back in loose curls, you gave yourself one last adjustment before you made your way out the door, hoping you wouldn’t be too early, you wouldn’t want to ruin his manly pride.

You were excitedly surprised when you arrived and Matthew was already standing outside the restaurant waiting for you. “Hi, Matthew.” You called as you climbed out of your car, his head snapped up, a grin covering his face as a couple of his curls bouncing in front of his eyes. “Hey. You look great.” He met you in front of your car, his jacket hanging off on one side because of his cast. “Clean up nice yourself.” You replied with ease, “how’s your arm?” You added, lightly touching it where he had scribbled on it. A chuckle falling from your lips at the stick figure he’d left on it. “Better now.” He smirked, earning a snort in return, your hand shooting to your mouth. “Oh my god.” He broke into laughter, using his good arm to move your hand from your face, “that was equally cute and funny.”

“I’m glad you thought so.” You breathed out, giggling as he led you inside.

***

“Oh, Matty. She’s lovely, I’m so happy for you.” Chantal grinned, looking at the ring he had picked out for you. You’d been together for just over a year, you both fell quick and hard, you moving to Calgary with him halfway through the season. “Thanks mom.” He sighed in relief, it was the last few weeks of the off season, and it was a no brainer for you both to come back to St. Louis for the summer to see your families.

What you didn’t know, is that he ended up holding onto that ring for almost a year before asking you to marry him, two years to the day when you ran into his hospital room.

***

“Matty, what are you doing?” You asked breathlessly as you walked into the living room after your shower, in frumpy pajamas and a wet messy bun. You looked at the candles that were scattered around, and him in a pregame suit, despite there being no game tonight. “You can’t cry when I haven’t even said anything yet.” He whispered as you approached him in shock, he pulled the velvet box from his jacket pocket. “Matthew.” You gasped, cupping his bearded jaw, he wiped under your eyes lightly, “Y/N.” He murmured, lightly kissing your forehead before getting down on one knee.

“As much as I hate how that mix up in the hospital scared you that night, I’m so grateful for it, you were right in front of me that whole time in St. Louis, but I wouldn’t have met you if it wasn’t for that.” He explained, popping the box open, you started nodding instantly, “ask me.” You begged. “Will you marry me?” He cut straight to it, grinning when you dropped down on your knees in front of him. You nodded furiously, holding his face in your hands, “yes. Oh my god, yes.” You pulled him in for a kiss, squealing in delight when he yanked you closer, “Mrs. Tkachuk sounds nice, doesn't it?”

***

You leaned in the doorway to your son's room, smiling as Matthew theatrically recalled your meeting story, your son, who was only four, looking up at his dad like he just told him how the earth spins. You giggled, making your presence known, you joined them on the floor, draping your legs over your husband’s lap, your son climbing onto yours, hugging you tightly as you played with his curly hair. “Is daddy telling your favorite story again?” You asked him, smiling when he nodded enthusiastically, “I really like that story too.” You told him, feeling Matthew squeeze your hip as your son giggled.

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