#I would love to kick some ass on christmas B) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crinkled-emotions · 1 year ago

Text

I was not expecting this to turn into a longer fic lmao, I was expecting a little fluff but angst kicked the door down and demanded a part in this.

CW: Rooster has a stomach flu so he’s nauseous, he accidentally threw up on the bedroom floor, and he has feverish hallucinations relating to seeing Goose.

Fic is under read more!

It had already been a long night- wait. Hold on. Sorry Jake. It had been a long day as well. It all started this morning, when Bradley had been at work all of forty minutes when he excused himself to go puke. Good times. As Maverick said, at least he excused himself. Wise words to live by. Then, because he puked, Rooster got sent home. He took the Bronco, so Hangman had to catch a ride home with Bob who, for being a stealth pilot, drove like a madman. Hangman made the decision to buy him driving lessons for his birthday... or Christmas. When was Bob’s birthday, anyway? Finally, when Jake did manage to get up the front porch steps, he had a sudden flashback to the last time he and Bradley got drunk and they’d used the last of the Pedialyte and Tylenol trying to get themselves back to a state where they could be seen in public.

- Walking the aisles of CVS, Jake was hit with a wave of nerves. Bradley was human and humans got sick, but he hadn’t seen Bradley like this since... since the Winter of ’09, and that had ended in a hospital visit with IV fluids and Natasha threatening to put Jake six feet under the stars. There were so many flavours of Pedialyte to choose from... would he want Pepto? Should he buy Gatorade? His phone buzzed in his pocket. Perfect timing. “Hey, Roos.” “Hey baby. How was work?” “Well, y’know, if Buzzkill does what Buzzkill does, we’re in for seven weeks of hell. How are you feeling?” “Fine, just tired.” Fine, just tired my ass, Bradshaw. “Yeah?” “Mmhmm. Where are you?” Rooster’s voice sounded like shit, not even slightly sexy or similar to his morning voice. Wincing, Jake made a mental note to add throat lozenges and cough medication to his shopping list. “I’m at CVS, I forgot we’re out of everything that has potential to make you feel better. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner, B, are you good without meds for a little longer?” “Yeah, probably don’t even need ‘em.” Jake had never heard such bullshit. Bradshaw’s and their stubbornness, it made him wonder if his parents had been the same way. To be fair, Maverick was his only other family member- “Jake? Are you on your way home?” Jake snapped out of his trance, clearing his throat. “I’ll be home in a half hour, why don’t you get some sleep?” “Hm, alright... I’ll be here.” “Roos, if you weren’t, I’d be worried.” “I love you.” It still made Jake’s heart ache. He’d waited so long to say it, but he’d surprisingly waited even longer to hear it. “Love you too. Be home soon.” Jake hung up and tucked his phone into his back pocket. Adding to his longer day, he’d completely forgotten to ask what Bradley preferred. He huffed a breath, swearing. “Alright, think like Bradley...” He hated the fake orange taste of pretty much everything under the sun... so that flavour of Pedialyte was out. Grape it was. Next was fever reducers...

- The fans were going in the house when Jake finally got home, laden down with a couple of bags of groceries and CVS supplies. He tossed the box of Advil on to the kitchen counter, followed by the bottle of Pedialyte and a six pack of Gatorade. He knew he had to get Rooster drinking but if he was nauseous- Tracking down the stairs in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that had definitely seen better days, Bradley definitely did not look good. Jake frowned, reaching to take his boyfriend into his arms. “You’re shaking,” he murmured. His next movement was halted when Bradley looked at him, but it felt like he was looking through him. More than anything, Jake felt like Bradley was seeing ghosts. “Dad, where’s mom? I need to- I-“ Jake regarded him for a moment and then reached up, pushing the sweat-laden curls off his boyfriend’s forehead to feel for a fever. His eyebrows shot up and he hugged Bradley to his chest as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Baby...” “Dad...” Alright, that time Jake definitely didn’t mishear him. He rubbed his knuckles down Bradley’s back, swallowing the concern as he reached for the bottle of Gatorade. “Drink that for me, Roos.” “How do you know my callsign? Where’s mom?” Bradley really was going for the double-whammy. Jake sighed, putting the bottle of Gatorade down to hold his boyfriend. “Bradley...” “Where the hell is she?” “Rooster, look at me, darlin’. Look at me.” Bradley reluctantly pulled his head away from Jake’s shoulder, frowning. The truth was on the tip of Jake’s tongue but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure his fevered boyfriend could take that kind of reality check at that moment. “Right, shower. Right now. Strip off, let’s go.” When he still couldn’t focus, Jake took Bradley by the hand and guided him up the stairs to their bedroom with the attached ensuite. He paused in the doorway to their room, frowning. The bed was a mess, blankets on the floor and the top sheet shoved to the end of the bed while the fitted sheet clung to the corners of the mattress for dear life. Jake chose to ignore it for the time being, taking Bradley into the bathroom.

- “You with me, Roos?” “What the fuck? Jake, I- how-“ Sitting under the lukewarm spray himself, Jake wasn’t sure Bradley was back completely, but he could feel his fever coming down. Bradley sniffed, trying to stand but Jake caught him at the last second. “Stay down a little longer, yeah? You were burnin’ up, I was scared you were going to need a hospital visit for a second there.” “How long have you been home?” Bradley glanced over his shoulder at his boyfriend, frowning. “This is the least sexy thing we’ve ever done in the shower.” Jake stifled a snort, relief clear in his face as he pressed a kiss to Bradley’s temple. “You’re okay, Roos. How are you feeling?” “Uh, right now? Nauseous, a little confused. Kinda tired.” Jake hummed. “Tell me if you’re gonna hurl, yeah? I love you and all that but I don’t love you that much.” Bradley leaned into him, glancing down at Jake’s arms around his waist. “Hey, your hands are shaking. Was I really that sick?” Jake chose not to reply. He flicked off the shower, standing to grab towels. When Bradley was out and sitting on the closed toilet seat, Jake dried himself off and got dressed. Bradley watched him move between the ensuite and their bedroom, brows furrowed in confusion. “Jake? Baby, whatever it is, I- I’m alright. Talk to me.” Bradley carefully stood, reaching for the clothes Jake passed over. Jake ran a hand through his own damp hair, pointing toward Bradley’s toothbrush. “Brush your teeth, I’m gonna change the sheets.”

- With brushed teeth and a clean pair of boxers, Bradley carefully made his way back into the bedroom. Jake was just finishing up on tidying the bed, clean sheets and a lighter comforter on top. He’d just placed a bucket by the bed too, just in case he’d claim, but Bradley was glad to see it. Sometimes the run to the ensuite felt too long. “Feeling better?” “Worse.” “What? Goddamnit.” Bradley sat on the edge of the bed and Jake hugged him. “If you’re still sick in the morning we’ll go to urgent care.” Bradley nuzzled into his stomach, grimacing when his temple throbbed. The way Jake cupped the back of his neck soothed it, just a little. Enough for him to let the tension seep out of his shoulders, eyes closing in exhaustion. He felt Jake run his hands down his arms, “I’m exhausted, babe. Wake me if you feel sick.” Jake gently peeled himself off of Bradley, moving around to his side of the bed. Bradley got under the covers, frowning as he lay on his side away from his partner. Jake reached out, gently squeezing his shoulder. “And no more fever spikes, yeah? Scared the shit outta me.” “Sorry,” Bradley mumbled sarcastically. He heard Jake snort and the lamp on his side flicked off, plunging them into darkness.

- Jake stirred because his body felt like it was on fire. The warmth was overwhelming as he reached out to swipe at his own forehead but found his arm was unable to move. Opening his eyes, he found Bradley asleep practically on top of him, shaking with the intensity of the fever. Jake managed to wriggle out enough to touch his boyfriend’s back, eyes widening. “Oh hell. Bradley wake up, you’re burning.” As Jake gently shook Bradley’s shoulder he reached for his phone to check the time. Bradley grimaced, scrubbing at his face. “I’m cold,” he complained. Jake shook his head. “We’re going to the emergency room. Get up, let’s go.” Jake moved around the room, getting himself into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. When he glanced over his shoulder Bradley was sitting up with the bucket on his lap but he just seemed... off. “Roos? You with me?” “Hm?” “Are you on Earth, dude?” Rooster stared blankly and Jake carefully put the bucket back on the floor, tugging a hoodie over Bradley’s frame. “Walk with me, c’mon. We’re going, let’s get you some help.” Rooster paused in the hallway, all of his six foot frame shaking, and Jake frantically glanced between the bathroom and their bedroom. “Jake-“ “-it’s all good, B, just let it out.” Rooster gagged, straight on to the hardwood floors, and Jake couldn’t watch as he lost the soup he’d managed to keep down at dinner. Their poor floors... “Dad?” Shit. Poor Bradley, too. “Let’s go, c’mon, use your feet- shit, don’t step in it-“

- Sitting in the emergency room waiting area using Jake as a pillow, Bradley wondered what his dad would have done had he been there. Talked to him, probably. Held his hand. Made him laugh. “How are you feeling?” Jake’s fingers in his hair felt just right. He knew it was Jake beside him. He knew Jake, despite his callsign, wasn’t going anywhere. “Cold... my stomach hurts.” Jake made a face, brushing over his back. “Not nauseous?” “Not right now. Wouldn’t count on it though.” Bradley glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to him, then nuzzled in against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You’ve been acting off since you came home.” Jake hummed. His hand moved from Bradley’s curls to his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to his temple. “Not weird. Worried, a little, but not weird.” “Yeah, you’re being weird.” Despite his insistence that Jake was acting off Bradley didn’t move from his spot, simply glancing up at his boyfriend with the feverish haze in his dark eyes. Jake winced; despite the way his brain was potentially boiling, Bradley was too smart for his own good and this was a known fact among the Daggers- Daggers. Maverick. Should he have called Mav? Would Bradley want Mav there? “Stop thinking. It’s making my head hurt.” Jake snorted when Bradley nudged his shoulder, trying to keep his attention. “Shut up.” “Bradley Bradshaw?” The nurse called for Bradley in the doorway to the exam room, glancing around to spot him. Jake put a hand on his partner’s back, gently helping him to stand. “Go and get checked out, I’ll be here when you’re ready.” “What if they want to admit me to hospital?” “You’ll be too tired to lose your shit, baby.” Bradley made his way over to the nurse, more exhausted than nauseous at that point, and Jake scrubbed a hand over his face as he reached for his phone. It was way too late to call Maverick, but he could send him a heads up text. Hopefully that wouldn’t freak him out too much. He could tell Cyclone too which would save Jake having to make that call with following awkward questions.

- Bradley stirred after an hour or so, glancing over to find Jake sitting by his bedside. He had one hand on Bradley’s arm, the other texting frantically. It looked like he was doing damage control but Bradley had no idea why. He remembered getting to the emergency room, and he remembered the doctor telling him it was just the stomach bug to end all stomach bugs, but after that it was a little blurry. “Jake?” Jake locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket to glance over at Bradley. “Hey, darlin’, how are you feeling?” “Tired... what happened?” “The emergency room doc gave you some anti-nausea meds, hopped you up on fever reducers, and next thing I knew they were dragging me into the room because you passed out. Told you you were too tired to lose your shit.” Bradley reached up to scrub at his eyes but Jake stopped him, gesturing to the IV line in his arm. “What do you remember?” “Uh, I remember showing up to the emergency room... after the doctor saw me I think things get a little hazy.” “What about before that?” He tried to focus but his brain was still exhausted so he eventually shook his head. “Nothing really.” “Hm, alright. Mav knows you’re here, he said he can drop off food when you’re feeling up to it but I think they’re going to discharge you soon. We were worried, Roos.” “Good, I was pretty fuckin’ sick.” Jake snorted, reaching over to kiss his forehead. “I was worried, I’ve never seen you that sick.” “Winter of ’09?” “Phoenix told me to fuck off before she took you to the emergency room. I’m just really glad you’re okay, B. Do you want anything?” Bradley shook his head but subtly pulled the blankets over his shoulders. Jake got up, tugging them around him better before checking his fever. “You’re a lot cooler. Hopefully the docs will be happy to let you go the next time they come by.” Bradley hummed, watching his boyfriend for a moment, finally, he tried to sit up. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.” Jake’s shoulders, initially tense and drawn up, relaxed and a smile crossed his features. “Nothing’s wrong, Bradley. Just been worried about you. Feel like I might get some sleep now.” “Don’t lie to me. I want to know.” Jake huffed, but he sighed. “Okay, alright. Fine. Uh, when you were really feverish... you were talkin’ about your dad. Asking for him, thought I was him, asked about your mom too. I couldn’t- I didn’t know how to tell you, I was scared you were just going to melt.” Bradley’s chest tightened. It may have been over fifteen years since his mom died and thirty since he lost his dad, but it still hurt. He was scared it was always going to hurt. “Baby? Talk to me.” “I’m so sorry I did that, I had no idea it would happen. I didn’t think... I-“ “-Roos, it’s okay. It’s okay, Bradley. I’m glad it was me.” Jake let his fingers brush through Bradley’s curls, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Break me outta here. I’m going home.” Jake smiled. “Okay. Let’s get you home.”

- With Bradley on the couch watching baseball through his closed eyelids (aka taking a mega nap), Jake snuck into the kitchen and flicked through his contacts, finally finding who he’d been looking for. “Hangman? Everything okay?” “Hey, Mav. Just letting you know we’re home. He’s fine, just exhausted.” “Any more mentions of Goose?” Maverick asked, concern clear in his tone. “No, the fever broke and he’s been on Earth since. I was worried, I didn’t think he’d come back for a moment there.” “Bradley’s always been bad for fever hallucinations. He got really sick right after his mom died and I think I broke his heart when I reminded him she was gone. Never seen him that upset.” “I can’t imagine,” Jake murmured, glancing over his shoulder. When he saw Bradley had stretched out on the couch horizontally he positioned his phone between his ear and shoulder to cover his partner with a blanket, checking for a fever instinctively. Finding nothing to be worried about, he straightened up and made his way back into the kitchen. “Bradley’s lucky to have you,” Maverick said. Jake smiled. “I think I’m just as lucky to have him.”

Jake taking care of Bradley when he has a fever and trying not to cry when Bradley thinks he's Goose

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman #Hangster

188 notes · View notes

palaces-in-every-paragraph · 22 days ago

Text

Yuletide Letter 2024

Thank you SO MUCH for writing for me. I know I’m going to love whatever you come up with! I truly appreciate the time and effort you are going to put into this. PLEASE do not stress over it; I am really very easy to please and just looking forward to seeing what you come up with. I’ve jotted down some basic prompts here, follow them or don’t--the choice is yours!

Competency is absolutely my greatest kink. I also have a decent-sized hair kink and love hair-touching/stroking/brushing, etc, as well as any kind of safe touch. I like friendship in love, equal partnerships, ass-kicking females, friends to lovers, grudging respect that becomes not so grudging, fluff and cuteness, light angst, caretaking, cuddling and tender kissing, blanket/bed-sharing in a totally platonic way, all the non-sexual intimacy and tenderness, late-night talks, letters. Tenderly-described safe touch makes me squee. I don’t mind sex so long as it’s consensual between adults, well-written, driven by emotions, and true to character. My favorite AUs are coffee shop and library.

General Likes: Fluff, angst with a happy or happy-for-now ending, humor, hurt/comfort with comfort emphasis, team bonding, mission fic, casefic, slice of life, missions gone bad, bad missions gone good in unexpected ways. Snowed in, locked in a closet, days off that turn into work days due to unforeseen circumstances, Undercover as a couple, enemies to friends to more, fake dating with sparks flying.

I adore setting detail and good descriptive writing. Fall is absolutely my favorite season--so perfect for walks, crisp air, toasted marshmallows, apple orchard trips, cider and donuts, colorful leaves that crunch underfoot, hay rides, warm drinks, cozy sweaters, knitting, lazy weekends, bonfires (or fires in fireplaces) new pens and notebooks, etc. I also love holidays and celebrations--all of them equally, so whatever feels natural to you and the characters is great. Cultural descriptions and events are fabulous, as well as setting, time period, and seasonal details.

DNW

-D/s relationships

-PWP

-A/B/O dynamics (I don’t understand how these work)

-dark/dystopian or supernatural AUs

-kidfic

-rape/non- or dub-con

-underage

-graphic violence

-suicide or self-harm

-depression,

-non-canonical character death

Sports Night (Casey, Dana, Dan)

I loved this show in its first run, and now it’s one of my go-to comfort watches. I make a special point to re-watch “The Six Southern Gentlemen of Tennessee Tech” at least once every Christmas. I would love to see some pre-canon with these three together in j-school. Were they insta-friends or fierce competitors who became friends later on? Show me the moment that Casey and Dan decided they’d never broadcast with anyone but each other, or the two of them encouraging Dana to pursue her dream of being a sports journalist, even though it’s hard work being a woman in a man’s world. Give me the backstage shenanigans, crazy trips to cover obscure events, the highs and lows of covering major events like the Olympics or the World Cup, or office hijinks. Is there a Secret Santa exchange or wild poker night that goes spectacularly, hilariously wrong?

Gallagher Girls (Liz, Bex, Cammie, Macey)

This is one of my favorite girl power/humor stories that I go back to all the time. I love the nuances of spy school, like the edible paper in fun flavors and the meals where they’re told what language they have to speak and all the classes. I love how Cammie embraces her tribe and how Macey finds her feet and her place even though logically she shouldn’t. One of my favorite scenes is in the very first book where they have to tail a teacher through a civilian carnival. Give me more missions like that, infiltrating the civilian population to make sure the school’s still secure, or school shenanigans where they reinforce their learning by evading security to sneak around and have some fun or play tricks on the teachers and instead of getting in trouble, get extra credit. Or I would really enjoy some post-canon here. Did Bex end up in MI-6, get in a tight spot, and call in her dream team? Did Macey grow up and revolutionize the Secret Service and become known as the absolute best agent for protective details on the children of presidents and politicians? Give me missions and cases and the ultimate high school reunion that ends with stopping a heist or a national security threat or… the possibilities are endless.

American Girls: Molly (Any Characters)

WWII is absolutely my favorite historical period, so a slice of life story with Molly and her friends during the war would be great. I’m dying to know if future Molly and Emily Bennett stayed in contact after the war and if Molly and Alison Hargate ever really got to become friends. Play hard in the Molly sandbox if you want, use any characters you’d like, and bring in lots of setting and historical detail—the more, the better!

Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue (Any Characters)

It’s really hard to put my finger on what I love best about this series. I love how Monty doesn’t have a foxhole conversion from rich, selfish prat to good guy, but Percy never loses faith in him. I like that it’s light and tropey and yet deals with heavy issues. Show me a slice of Monty and Percy’s life in Greece and what happens after--is there a time when Monty slips back into his old ways, only to be gently pulled back by Percy? And bookish, lovable Felicity is my soul sister. I would love a piratey adventure, with Felicity learning how to really be a pirate and maybe making some crazy, rookie mistakes, or the events that help her to find herself once she becomes a Captain in her own right. I really, really adore the canon era and setting, so give me Regency hijinks with plenty of action and hilarity, or show me Monty and Percy at Christmas with gifts and a slice of life. Go plot-heavy or go the action route, and I’ll love it.

White Christmas (Betty, Judy, Phil, Bob)

This is one of those movies that really makes the holiday season for me. I love this historical period and I’ve always had a fascination with vaudeville, radio plays, and the idea of old-school restaurants with floor shows, so I would love a story that includes details of all the places they perform, especially as the venues presumably get nicer (or not, and there's much kvetching about it) as they get more famous. I love the camaraderie between these couples and would really enjoy some post-canon. Do they become a fixture in Pine Tree, Vermont, every Christmas? Do they take over the Inn when the General really does decide to retire? What’s it like for them on the road? Do they become famous or quietly retire? And of course, all the Christmassy details, please!

Thanks again, in advance. I can’t wait for Christmas to see what you come up with!

#dear author #fanfic exchange #exchange letter #yuletide #white christmas #gallagher girls #gentleman's guide to vice and virtue #american girls #dear yuletide author

0 notes

kirascottage · 3 years ago

Text

dating jj maybank

jj maybank x gender neutral. reader

word count: 1.8k

cw: headcanons, overall domestic fluff, angst if you squint till ur visions blurry, mentions of poor emotional expression, mentions of sex / sexual innuendos, mentions of fighting / injury, strong pda, kissing, consensual groping, swearing, soft!jj

okay so this is the first time i’ve ever written dating headcanons so i’m gonna try my best

• jj and expressing emotions are a very complicated duo and almost everyone knows it, including you. he knows how he feels for you, and feels it strongly, but the way it comes out of his mouth is like gibberish and completely not understandable.

“so you know — like — i don’t know, man. i feel heavy for you, like do you feel heavy for me, too?”

“jj, i don’t even know what heavy means in this context and what you’re referring to.”

• but he comes from a good place, and you come to know, learn and love that, because well he loves you, and with jj you just have to infer by his mess of words.

• this boy tries to be as romantic as possible but he’s literally never had a s/o before. the only thing he knows are one nighters so there is a lot that pope and john b advise him on because miscommunication is quite literally the worst. (stated by john b himself)

• for this instance and the sake of the headcanons: you are a member of the pogues, through and through.

• so most of the time you’re together, the pogues are there too. even dates. they love to occupy and jj could shout at the top of his lungs how they are the biggest cock-blockers to ever exist and they would not care.

• so at that point he doesn’t even try to keep his hands to himself, he will touch you or quite literally make out with you in front of anyone and everyone he can.

• i mean he can get a little protective. (also considering he would never let you around his dad because he wants to protect you and would never let you near anyone that could hurt you)

• i mean this guy would fight for you till the very end; punches thrown countless of times and harsh words absolutely shouted more times than you could count on your fingers, but no matter how many times you chastise jj, he would never stop to defend your honour because at the end of the night you’re the one playing with his hair and kissing his cuts and bruises.

• especially after everything as well with rafe, topper and the kooks he just wants everyone (including the tourons you see once a millennium) to know that you and him are romantically involved and you are very much taken.

• he even lets the most irrelevant people know the both of you are dating because he loves you that much:

“okay, babe, here me out—”

“jj a whole group of kids just asked me about our relationship! i love you, but the whole population does not need to know that we’re together.”

“obviously we can't tell the whole population! or I would, duh.”

• even though he could blabber on about everything about you, including what shampoo you use and which perfume of yours is his favourite, affection is more his style:

• this includes walking around with his hand in your back pocket because wearing anything but jean shorts is really not an option in that heat, (and this does include ass grabbing at every opportunity he can)—

• — his hand gently placed on your thigh while driving / while he’s next to you, interlocking pinkies 98% of the time as you walk together —

• — and peppering kisses is always happening. whether they’re ticking at your checks, suffocating your neck or affectionately placed on your forehead he’s always kissing you.

• other key, and essential, things that come to mind are that his arm is always around you; after everything that’s happened to him he just needs to physically know you’re there and that’s enough to subdue him.

• it’s almost routine for him arm to go around your waist or your shoulder, whether you’re tall or short, tbh he doesn’t really care, his arms and lips are always on you.

• dating jj is dating a teenage boy with absolutely no impulse control and zero control over what he says—

“I mean, dude, if you think about it, why isn’t a banana called a yellow if an orange is called an orange? and why are phones called ‘telephones’ like who the fuck came up with that crap?”

“i mean, hey, we could bang out here and it’s not like anyone would know. like jb could be out in the living room and be like clueless.”

“jj, there’s two windows pointing directly at us. i think he would know.”

• —if you don’t understand then he definitely does not either.

• you also flip each other off a lot and people are like ??? but you both are like — fuck you —(affectionate & full of love with my middle fingers)

• one thing he does know is how to flatter you, whether he’s obnoxiously winking at you or bringing you flowers with his tips from work, or he picked them himself, it’s all in the effort.

• any effort from you is like kids getting their favourite toy they’ve been wanting on christmas, for instance: anytime you bring him food, or offer to stay with him at john b’s is like swelling up his heart to the maximum.

• so when he’s not with you, or the pogues, which is rare he is outside. and jj is like diego the explorer he always finds little places just for himself, or for this instance with you.

• so a lot of dates include going to these secluded spots: sometimes it’s a picnic, or a walk, and stargazing is his absolute favourite as he listens to you drone on about the constellations and even just watching the sky with your presence next to him is so comforting and makes him feel safe.

• of course when the pogues find out they’re brutal with their teasing.

“awww, look at the cute and happy couple!”

“my wittle babies, growing up so fast.”

“god, kie, you make it sound like we’re five?!”

• speaking of alone time, jj loves to cuddle when you guys are alone and that’s one thing he’s not fond of being teased about.

• his head is firm on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist and his leg flung over your hips. to him it’s just a perfect way to start and end the day.

• he also loves to watch movies while cuddling and he has a set of movies and their genres completely memorized for the occasion.

• he has such a good memory to the weirdest things. like he can state in the exact order your makeup routine, or talk about all the caves and sinkholes in yukatan but ask him how many states there are in america and he’s completely bummed.

• back to what i was saying, cuddling and movie times together.

• he’s the little spoon i will not argue with anyone about this, especially if something happened that day.

• like if rafe pissed him off, some kooks stepped on his toes, his dad had been particularly agitated that day or he was just frustrated. your embrace is what keeps his together. he just loves the feeling of your arms around him, essentially protecting him.

• and the pogues always get a kick out of it when they see you too snuggled in the morning. they even take pictures, a lot of pictures of everything and anything they can.

• their fav times to take pictures is when you both are off guard: like when he’s putting his hat on you, he’s sharing his juul with you, you guys are laying together on the boat or maybe your surfing together in the water.

• he’s surprisingly intimate about everything even though they’re such mundane things for him.

• he expresses his love for you by actions rather than words. for example, he has a guitar (an absolutely beat up one with missing strings and chipped wood, but he says it has more character that way as well as your signature on the back of it)—

• —and just strums it for you absolutely whenever and however your mood is because no matter what its always calming. sometimes he even hums a little tune or starts singing a bit.

• another few ways he depicts his love for you is by shoving his baseball hat on your head (the one that absolutely nobody is allowed to wear) because he doesn’t want you frying in the sun or dying of heatstroke.

• a lot of his tank tops are now yours because they’re so comfortable and you can wear them literally anywhere.

• he shares, only with you but, he shares. his rings are on your fingers, his bandana is around your neck, his boxers are your sleep shorts, and he absolutely eats that shit up.

• he also gets extremely comfortable with you, like even more than john b in a way. example: you could just be chilling, his arm wrapped around your neck and — boom — he’s shoving your face in his armpit and trying to tickle you.

• it gets to the point where the pogues are so used to it and sometimes even they join in because they even like being included in on your affections but would absolutely rather drown than admit it. they love watching their two best friends love grow for each other, and they're happy jj has found sanctuary to love and be with someone freely.

• speaking of love, jj is also like a puppy: praise, reassurance and kisses are the way to his heart and staying there.

• i’m gonna say it, jj has self confidence and love issues. they are not detectable at all but with his mother gone and the way his father treated him, there’s shit buried in his heart that it takes awhile for him to open up about.

• once he does: he cries, and he cried a lot. but after that it was like never letting go again. he trusts you with his whole heart and soul and he knows you won’t take advantage of that.

• the way you both accept each other into each others lives is so important to him no matter where you live, who you are and what your family is like everything counts for him and that just makes you the person who you are.

• dating jj can be complicated and messy and wonderful and passionate and relationships aren’t easy but he would def be worth it <3

#jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x plus size reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank hc #jj maybank headcanon #outerbanks fic #outerbanks smut #outerbanks fanfiction #outer banks

2K notes · View notes

katsu28 · 3 years ago

Text

a pogue christmas

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pogue!reader

summary: While trekking across the island to pick up JJ’s gift, Y/N runs into a few bumps in the road, and JJ is not happy about it

warnings: mentions of blood and cuts, light swearing

(gif found on google, credits to owner)

There were two kinds of Christmas in the Outer Banks.

There was a Kook Christmas, where Figure 8 families got trees imported from the mainland and adorned their gigantic mansions with enough lights that you could see the multicolor haze all the way from the Cut.

Then there was a Pogue Christmas, where people had to pick up extra shifts of work just to be able to afford gifts for their friends and families.

You'd always had the latter.

It was Christmas Eve, and you’d just gotten off a grueling double shift at work. All you really wanted to do was get to the Chateau and get drunk on spiked eggnog with your friends, but you still had to pick up JJ’s gift from the jeweler’s shop across town.

You’d gotten him a custom silver ring with your initials and anniversary date etched onto the inside for him to add to his ever growing collection, and even though it had cost you a month’s paycheck, JJ was worth it. This past year with him had been one of the happiest of your life, all because JJ was in it. You wanted to show him how much you loved and appreciated him, because although you always told him that you did, you wanted him to have a permanent reminder of it even when you weren’t around.

All was well until you were on the way to the Chateau from the jeweler’s. A car full of drunk Kooks thought it would be funny to play a game of ‘run the Pogue off the road’, which resulted in you flying over the handlebars of your bike into some prickly brush and them speeding off cackling like maniacs.

“Assholes.” You grumbled, fishing your backpack out of the weeds and dusting it free of burrs. Luckily, you’d managed to twist in mid-air so your ass took the brunt of your fall, but your palms were pretty cut up and there was a nasty gash running the length of most of your leg. Patting your shorts pocket, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you felt JJ’s ring still tucked inside.

It took you twice as long to get to the Chateau than it should’ve, and when you got there, you saw that everyone else was sitting around the fire laughing.

Everyone except JJ, whose previously sullen eyes brightened when he caught sight of you rolling in, a smile spreading across his face as he bounded towards you with a beer sloshing around in his hand. He skidded to a stop, however, when he saw the state you were in.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked incredulously, tossing the can aside as he took in your dirt streaked clothes and bloodied scratches. “Who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing, JJ, just some drunk Kooks being assholes.” You waved him off, hopping off your bike gingerly. His posture went rigid almost immediately at your words.

“Kooks? What were you even doing on that side of town? Is that why you’re late?” JJ peppered question after question at you, not even waiting for an answer before turning around to storm back to the group. “Yo, John B, pack it up, we’re gonna go kick some Kook ass—”

“Ignore him, John B! We’re all good here!” You interrupted, waving the other boy off before grabbing JJ’s hand and tugging him back to face you. “JJ, I’m fine, okay? You don’t need to go picking a fight with a bunch of Kooks.”

“But they hurt you.”

“No, they honked at me and I fell off my bike.” You lied, trying to be as convincing as possible, because you honestly weren’t in the mood for JJ to go on a rampage right now. “But I’m fine, I promise. They were just being stupid and I just so happened to be there. Nothing new.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, babe.” JJ pressed his lips together into a thin line at your words but nodded curtly.

“What were you doing around there anyways?” He asked, tilting his head at you. “That’s literally nowhere near your work.” You bit your lip, debating on whether or not you wanted to give JJ his gift right now for a few seconds before deciding.

“I was picking up your gift.” You sighed, digging into your pocket and pressing the heavy ring into your boyfriend’s palm. “Merry Christmas, J.” JJ stared wide eyed at the ring in his hand for the longest time, turning it around in his fingers gently as if he was afraid he was going to break it. “Do you…like it?”

“Like it? Sweetheart, I love it,” He blurted, meeting your hopeful smile with his own giddy one while he slid it onto his right index finger. “I hate that it’s the reason you got jumped though. Are you okay?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“All right, tough girl,” He snorted, carefully slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

“I just wanna get drunk, J.” You whined, ducking out from under his arm with a pout. He frowned.

“Oh baby, we’re getting hammered tonight, for sure. Just let me clean your cuts so they don’t get infected, yeah?”

“You’ll be quick?”

“Quicker than lightning, my love.” He assured you, holding his hand out for you to take, which you did with a huff, dragging your feet as he pulled you towards the house and into the bathroom.

“Y’know, usually I’m the one cleaning you up.” You observed, wincing at the sting of the cold water running over your hands. “This is a nice change.”

“Y/N, having to clean blood off your hands is not nice.”

“Okay not nice, I meant different.”

“That’s a better word for it. Though I hope I never have to do this again, and I know you do too because I know that you hate the smell of rubbing alcohol.” JJ was still bent over working on your hands, but it was like he could see the sour expression on your face at said smell.

Minutes later, JJ was done patching you up, pressing light kisses to the bandages on your wounds before the two of you made your way back out to the rest of the Pogues. You flopped into JJ’s old seat with a huff, letting him settle in on the ground between your legs comfortably. His hands immediately came to curl around your calves, carefully avoiding the scratch he’d just fixed up. The silver of his new ring was cool against your leg as he tapped his fingers absentmindedly, and you were beyond happy that JJ liked your gift.

John B tossed JJ another beer, while Sarah handed you a cup of what she claimed was an old family recipe for eggnog, which really just had a tiny hint of the traditional holiday drink with shit ton of rum that she’d snuck from her dad’s stash. Just what you needed.

“Okay, be our tie-breaker, Y/N,” Kie exclaimed, pointing at you with her own cup of eggnog. “Is a hot dog a sandwich, yes or no? Pope keeps saying it isn’t, but it totally is!”

“That’s because it’s literally not!” Pope groaned, shaking his head so hard that his hat almost flew off. “A sandwich has two pieces of bread with stuff in between, but a hot dog—” You tuned out the rest of Pope’s rant, looking around at all your friends lovingly and feeling a surge of gratitude burst in your chest.

This was what Christmas was about. Spending time with your loved ones, even though they were dumb and argued about the stupidest things. These were your best friends—your family—and you wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world.

Taglist!

@pogueslandia

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #pogues for life #obx one shot #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #obx netflix #outer banks #obx christmas #jj maybank one shot #rudy pankow

475 notes · View notes

the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years ago

Text

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence.

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”

You’re hearing will never be as it was.

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.

He needed a fucking drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.

Except… he’d been standing still that time.

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.

“What the fu—”

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.

Dynamight was here to get the job done.

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…

Nothing.

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

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.

That sounded… closer.

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki/reader #bakugo/reader #bakugo katsuki/you #bakugo katsuki x you #my hero academia #mha spoilers #boku no hero academia #bnha #anime #fanfic #my writings #katsuki bakugo

232 notes · View notes

youabandonedthem · 3 years ago

Text

Ok so the way that spades slick finds out about house md is because he walks in on his colleague clubs deuce watching it on their dumb little box tv set. he thinks most shows are really stupid but it catches his eye and he gets quickly addicted sitting down for 2ish hours to watch it. this is radical binge watching for him because i don't think spades likes watching tv or movies of any kind and thinks the physical act of sitting down and staring at a screen is embarrassing and humiliating. although the rest of the crew have favourite tv/movies spades only has things he doesnt mind watching and doesn't often distinguish. (i think he has this same attitude towards music) but the reason that house md catches his eye in particular is because he secretly likes house and thinks he's kind of just like him re: house's leg/cane thing and slick's whole prosthetic limb and missing eye deal. but this is almost subconscious because on some level he refuses to accept himself as a "disabled" class but of course when he sees house hes going to want to cling to him. but he would not admit this to anyone. outwardly he makes fun of house in front of deuce for his vicodin addiction and points at the tv screen while cry laughing🤣 during the withdrawal episode saying HAHAHA!!! HE'S ADDICTED TO HIS MEDICATION!!! Thats PATHETIC !!!!!! HE CANT FUNCTION WITHOUT THE DRUGS! He's RUINED!!!!! After this he starts going off about painkillers/drugs in general and how anyone who uses them will get put in their little sissy pansy ass place (but in practice he loves painkillers if he actually needs them). Anyway droog and boxcars have also seen house md a little. Droog thinks it's irritating and overly dramatic but he thinks lowly of anything that isn't a b&w film. Boxcars thinks it's stressful and that entertainment should be kept as entertainment (he likes romance sitcoms and hallmark Christmas movies [year round]). Deuce also generally prefers A24 shows and red scare art films.

After this incident Slick is thinking nonstop about house md and eventually tactfully and subtly brings up "deuce's hospital show" to droog. Droog says he knows that one. It's tasteless. Why do you ask ...did you actually watch it with him? Slick panics and says no no, of course not, it was real bad, easily the crappiest shit i've seen. Why do you think i'd even subject myself to that. then he stomps away into his room and ruminates on this exchange and concludes that droog figured out that he likes it and that his comments were a motivated attack on house's crip status and in turn his own. He can barely process this and sharpens knives thoughtlessly for the rest of the day.

This is only one symptom of how spades slicks inner ableism manifests in that he can acknowledge that hes half blind and missing an arm but this only registers in his mind as personal shortcomings that he can compensate for by remaining fully capable. he cant internalise that hes "disabled" because this is the class of people he casually makes pointed and rude comments about and has a very one sided view of. Karkat goes to libtard middle school so he comes up to him and says "Hey dad they're hosting a disability awareness event at my school and i was wondering if you.." Slick walks away and lokcs himself in his room in the dark for a while and then comes out and asks karkat why the fuck he thinks hed want to be involved in that shit and just because he's missing a few body parts suddenly means hes some kind of God damn crip huh. (then he grounds karkat) It's just not compatible with his world view like how your elderly neighbour will be callig your girlfriend your "roommate" because gay people just shouldnt exist so they dont exist. When anything occurs that implies he's not as capable as he was before he simply ignores it. they are simply hindrances that he can work around. But if he met the other incarnations of himself like at a Jack Noir con they would be kicking him around and making fun of him and going up on his blind side and laughing at him and calling him "one eye" and "the amputee" making him so aware of it purely because not only is it the biggest thing that stands out about him to himself, but the others have the safety net of not actually being HIM so they have nothing preventing them from externalising what theyre all thinking. It would truly hit for the first time and he would be so ashamed like a dog . But after a few minutes hed pretty much stop caring and start trying to kill the others in a blind rage and a massive fight to the death would break out if any of the others had not already started one (which is how any jack noir meetup would end) so that's that.

essentially he uses his prosthetic arm to point at people in wheel chairs and say poor fuck

48 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years ago

Text

It'll End Where It Started, With A Family And Some Christmas Cookies

Batfamily One-Shot (Non-Reader Insert)

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst

Author's Note: I am sorry for making sadness, but!!! happy ending! Enjoy and Merry Christmas <3 -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The snack-bin had been replaced for the third time that month, the contents already devoured by the hungry vigilantes after every night of kicking ass and taking names. Bruce hadn’t really mentioned any Christmas plans since he’d passed. It’d hurt too much to think about what the holidays would be like without the older man. He knew the children were upset about the coming festivities tomorrow. Presents that had been purchased in the year had been left under the tree, no one able to make themselves move them even if the day after was when he would’ve opened them. Moving them would really mean that he was gone, and no one wanted to break the dream that he was still around.

Bruce had disappeared sometime earlier and left the family in the cave to laugh and joke amongst themselves as they snacked on Doritos and sodas, not the cucumber sandwiches he used to make. Footsteps echoed down the long staircase, causing them to turn, seeing Bruce coming down with a tray in his hands, oven mitts on both hands. He hit the last step and walked towards the group, and that’s when the scent of burnt cookies wafted up their noses.

He frowned, like he usually did and held out the tray. “I made cookies.”

For a moment, no one said a thing and he watched as Cass leaned over his arm and grimaced at them. “They’re burnt.”

“I know,” Bruce said. “I tried my best to follow the recipe but…” he gestured to the tray by lifting it again. “I think, no, I know I messed them up.”

“Why’d you make cookies, B?” Dick asked, propping his elbows on Damian’s shoulders as he rested his chin on the boy’s head. “What’s the occasion?”

Bruce found it hard to speak, but he managed to mutter, “Alfred…he always made cookies on Christmas Eve. I just…” his jaw clenched so tight that it hurt to keep going, hurt to force himself not to cry in front of his children; Alfred wasn’t there anymore. Someone had to be strong for them in his stead. He shut his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly, and said calmly, “I know I messed them up, and you don’t have to eat them, but I…I wanted to keep his tradition.”

He gazed at them and murmured, “Alfred wouldn’t want us to give up because he’s gone. He wouldn’t want us to forgo traditions. He would want us to come together and celebrate his life and enjoy the holidays because this family mattered more to him than anything.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not good at this. Alfred was better…but I hope in time I can be half the man he was and provide the love he did too.”

Bruce could see the misty eyes all his children bore. Could see just how raw the edges of Alfred’s loss still was, but Jason reached up, wiped his eyes, and huffed, walking over to him. He reached for one of the blackened cookies and shoved the entire thing in his mouth, chewing with a fire in his eyes, trying to hide the grief he was still carrying around on his shoulders and in his heart behind a steadfast commitment.

He choked, put his fist to his mouth and swallowed before admitting, “Your cookies are shit, old man.”

Bruce snorted. “I know they are, chum, but you don’t—”

Jason didn’t let him finish as he was too busy picking up another cookie and shoving it in his mouth, griping, “Oh my God, did you drop shells in the batter?” he tossed cookies back to the kids and Bruce watched, slack-jawed as each of them stomached the burnt sweet and smiled back at him.

Tears misted his eyes and Jason took the tray from him. “Hey, old man?”

He looked at Jason. “Yeah, chum?”

Jason glanced back at the family and then back to Bruce. “How about we all go up to the kitchen and make some more cookies, yeah?” The other kids nodded, and he added, “This was Alfred’s tradition…why don’t we make our own and add his to the mix?”

Bruce swallowed thickly, smiling brokenly as his heart ached for his father, and he said, “That sounds like a fantastic idea, son.”

Cass walked over and hooked her arm around Bruce’s, staring up at him with those big, dark eyes of her that held a river of heartache; she didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. He leaned over and nuzzled the top of her head, a soft kiss to the crown of it, and arms wrapped around his waist, causing him to look down at Damian who was burying his face in Bruce’s side. He brushed a hand through the short onyx hair, smiling sadly at the boy when he looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“He’d be proud of you, son,” Bruce whispered, then looked at them all. “Of all of you. You were his greatest pride and brightest joy. Everyone we met, Alfred never stopped talking about you and how happy you made him.” He almost started crying again as he breathed, “He loved all of you more than the world.”

Dick had his arms wrapped around Duke and Tim’s necks as he replied tearfully, “He loved us all, dad.”

Bruce breathed deeply and smiled. “More than we’ll ever know.” He looked around at all of them once more, Dick, Jason, Cass, Steph, Tim, Duke, and Damian. “Let’s go make some cookies.”

“Dibs on licking the bowl!” Tim shouted, hauling for the stairs and that caused a rush of yelling kids as they shouted dibs too. “HEY I CALLED DIBS! IT’S MINE!”

“FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE, TIMBERLY!” Jason shouted back, shoving Dick into the wall as he skipped the steps by two only to screech as Cass latched herself onto his back.

Bruce sighed tiredly but fondly and happened to look to his left, the last portrait of Alfred had been hung up, he wasn’t sure who had hung it up—he suspected Dick or Jason. His expression turned bittersweet, and he walked over to the portrait, staring up at it.

“I knew this would come one day,” he said. “But I still wasn’t prepared.”

We never are, Master Bruce.

He swore he could hear the words as if Alfred had spoken them to him right then; he tried not to frown. “It started with us, Alfred…I always thought it would end with us too.” He could hear the laughter peeling from the top floor and he smiled, tears starting to drip down his cheeks. “I’m thankful that it’ll end with them.” Bruce didn’t wipe the tears away. “I saved them…but you saved me, Alfred. I wouldn’t be the man I am if it weren’t for you.”

“Dad are you coming!” he heard yelled from the top of the stairs and he turned to them.

“Be there in a second! I’m shutting down the systems!” Bruce glanced back at the portrait and smiled, taking once last deep breath. “Thank you, dad…and Merry Christmas.”

As he walked away, he swore he heard Alfred’s voice one last time.

To you as well, son.

68 notes · View notes

fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep-Talking

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by: 2 anons (I combined the requests bc they basically asked for the same thing :))

Gif creds to owner

Warnings: daddy kink, rough sex, squirting

As Fred’s eyes fluttered open, he smiled softly. You were snuggled into his side, your leg slung over his thigh, head tucked into his chest. He hadn’t noticed you sneaking into his dorm in the middle of the night, and he really wasn’t complaining.

Smiling contentedly and only hearing the soft breathing of you and the snoring of his twin (it was the Christmas holidays, and you were the only ones in his dorm) he was about to nod back off for a good old lie-in when he heard-

“Hmmm... Fred... daddy...”

His eyebrows shot straight up into his ginger hair as he looked down at you. To top off your soft whimpers which were slightly muffled by his jumper, you had began grinding on his thighs, and he felt his cock twitching with interest as he felt your wetness soaking through his pyjama pants. He certainly hadn’t heard that one before...

You moaned softly and shuddered with your climax, eyes opening slowly as you woke, quickly becoming flustered as you saw Fred’s smirk.

“I think, dear Yn... that you ought to meet Daddy in the room of requirement after lunch, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, biting your lip.

“Good girl. I’m going for a shower. No touching.”

***

The few hours you had to wait until after lunch stretched out for an almost unbearably long time. When you finally saw Fred again (for he had been getting up to no good with George and Lee Jordan) you were practically humming with energy, very excited to see what he had in store for you.

But Fred didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to finish his meal, occasionally chatting across the table, taking a second portion of this and that. You rubbed your foot along his calf gently, hoping to catch his attention, but he didn’t seem too bothered that you were rubbing your thighs together. When he finally cleared his plate, he guided you upstairs to the room og requiremebt, not saying a word until you were inside.

“So, daddy, huh?” He grinned. “How do you want to play this, YN?” He asked, backing you into a wall.

“I...” you mumbled. “Be rough with me, Fred... s-spank my ass... degrade me a little... control me. Then after I need... I’d like... like for you to take care of me,”

Fred nodded and kissed your forehead. “I think I can do that darling. Usual safeword?” He asked and you nodded. “Right then. Have you been touching yourself, even when I asked you to wait?”

You pressed your lips together and shook your head quickly. But Fred arched his brows. “Are you lying to me, YN?” He asked you sternly. You gulped. “Because I’m sure I saw you rubbing those thighs together at dinner... were you trying to get some friction on your needy little clit, hmm?”

“Y-ues...” you breathed, biting your lip hard.

“Yes what, YN?”

“Yes, daddy!” You whimpered, already panting. Fred smirked and with a snap of his fingers, most of your clothes were off. You stood in front of him, in thigh high socks and small, frilly white knickers, but apart from that you were bare, your nipples pebbling from the chill. Fred smirked, tweaking them gently before cupping your cheeks.

“You’ve been rather naughty, don’t you think, Sweetheart? Lying to daddy, trying to get off... I think... I think a good spanking might do just the trick,” he mused and you let out a soft, needy whimper as he pulled you over to an armchair that the room had conjured, pushing you over his lap. “15 should do, I think, love?” He smirked, massaging the globes of your arse, squeezing them gently. “You will count, and thank me for each one, like a good girl, okay? Verbal answers, darling,”

“Y-yes, daddy, please!” You moaned out, pushing your arse up eagerly to him, letting out a cry as his hand struck your cheek. “One... thank you daddy!” You moaned, arching your back. By the tenth hit, you were kicking your legs like a brat and with the 15th ‘thank you, daddy,’ you had tears rubbing down your face, and arousal oozing down from between your thighs.

“Good girl,” Fred hummed, hoisting you upright and kissing you gently. “Took your spanking so well. Have you learned your lesson, Princess?”

“ I-I have, daddy,” you whimpered, nuzzling into his neck. “P-please, can we carry on?” you moaned, bucking your hips slightly. Fred laughed gently, easing your thighs apart.

“You asked very nicely,” he observed, slowly dipping his fingers between your soaking folds. “Hmm... do you hear that, darling? Hear how wet you are, all for daddy?” He smirked, fingering you slowly, obscene squelching noises filling the room along with your own soft moans. “I think this tight little pussy needs a good fucking, don’t you, sweetheart? Do you want daddy to fill up your little hole with his cock?”

You moaned lewdly and nodded, letting Fred guide you into your hands and knees on the simple bed. “There’s a good girl,” he grunted, holding your thighs apart as he plunged into your dripping core, moving to tighten his grip on your waist and hips, his thumbs pressing into the small of your back. You cried out as he began pounding into you and you fell forward onto your chest, arching so that your arse was pushed up to him. He planted a few firm slaps to your cheeks, admiring the jiggle as he fucked you, before reaching around to rub circles into your clit, groaning loudly as you yelped, your lusty cry filled with desire. “Please! Please, please, daddy! Please may I cum, please!” You begged, your whole body trembling. When Fred growled ‘yes’ your tight walls clamped impossibly tighter around Fred’s twitching cock, pulsing rapidly as your clit throbbed. Grunting, Fred continued to fuck you harder, and gasped out his own orgasm as your second, more intense one was rushing through your body, squirting out of you, all over the bedsheets as you collapsed forward, feeling the comforting weight of Fred laying atop you.

It took you both a moment to catch your breath, and as you came crashing down from your high, you leg out a weak, pleasured sob, nuzzling into his side. “Th-thank you, Freddie,” you whimpered, hiding your face in his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. “That was... b-better than I thought it would ever be,”

Fred smirked softly and kissed the top of your head. “Anything for you princess,” he murmured. “Accio washcloth. Just gonna clean you up a bit, darling,” he sakd softly, mopping his cum from your sensitive cunt (you let out a little moan at that) and wiping the beads of your squirt up from your thighs. “All done,” he said softly, vanishing the cloth and pulling you closer to him once more. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, you took that so well... bloody brilliant you are-“

But when he looked down, your eyes had shut and a blissed out expression was etched on your face as you slept. Fred hummed, resting his chin on your head, wondering what new kink this nap would reveal, should you start sleep-talking again.

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #harry potter #hp #imagine #request #fanfiction #smut #harry potter imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n

2K notes · View notes

dailydaydreamings · 4 years ago

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 13

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Okay, this took way way too long to write. A couple of things. A) language warning. B) I’m not a doctor. C) I hope I tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged! I tried! Lmk if not! D) I am a total knob with technology and I don’t know how to comment on my own posts without using my main account, so I’m not ignoring you I swear!

Just a couple more chapters, do you think they’re having girls or boys (or both)?

Bucky stood in the doorway of your bedroom, a bemused look across his face. His eyebrow twitched upward to say, are you okay with this?

Four weeks ago, the answer would have been a hard no. But you were four weeks into a strict bed rest. Steve spent the mornings at the compound and Bucky spent the mornings with you, and then they switched in the afternoons. You spent most of your time reading or learning to crochet, poorly. You were completely bored out of your mind.

So, you cracked a smile and shrugged a shoulder to let him know you weren’t 100% pleased with the situation.

Bucky’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, “Looks great, Steve.”

Steve looked up from where he sat at the end of the bed, painting your toenails. “You’re doing the other foot, this is a lot harder than it looks.”

You groaned, “How are you still on the first foot?” It had only been forty minutes.

Bucky laughed, “Let me get dinner started, okay? You two have fun.”

Your heart gave a small lurch. Bucky wasn’t okay. Not after your trip to the hospital.

He blamed himself.

You looked over at Steve, who had his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth he was concentrating so hard on your pinky toe. You kicked him in the chest with your other foot.

He blinked in surprise, “What was that for?”

You gave him an exasperated look, “Go talk to him.”

Steve looked down at your foot again, “Babe, he’s fine?”

You kicked him again. Harder. “He still blames himself for what happened, dumbass.”

It was no one’s fault really. If anyone was to blame it was your biology. But Steve had yelled at Bucky about the sex, blamed him for the bleeding, on the way to the hospital. Dr Lawrence had said the sex hadn’t caused it but nothing had been the same since. Bucky hadn’t slept in the same room as either of you since. He came in to check on you and Steve. He cracked jokes, made dinner, but kept his distance.

He was beating himself up for this and you weren’t going to take it anymore.

When Steve didn’t answer, you started to heave yourself up, “If you won’t go talk to him, I will.”

“No, no,” Steve put his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to sit. “I will okay. I’m sorry.”

An hour later, Bucky and Steve came in carrying food. Steve handed you a plate and settled in beside you, Bucky seemed to be hesitant to join. He stood beside the bed, ringing his hands nervously.

Your heart gave a little lurch, he did a really good job at making himself look small.

You opened your arm up to him, “Come sit with me, baby.”

He seemed to rock back and forth on his heels, “Every time I want to touch you, my head screams at me that you’re going to start bleeding again.”

You looked over at Steve, who hung his head slightly. He knew this and you’d beat his ass for it later.

“I’m okay, baby, I swear,” you lied through your fucking teeth. “Come sit with me, please.”

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed, not touching you. This would be a start tomorrow he would scoot an inch closer. In three days you’d be hip to hip. In a week he’d kiss your forehead. It would be okay.

But for now, you started with, “So can someone tell me something interesting please? Facebook can only keep me so entertained.”

———

Four Weeks Ago

Dr Laurence was wearing heels. At four am.

It was such an odd detail, but it was the first thing you noticed when you got to the hospital. You didn’t even make it to the compound. The hospital was closer.

Steve carried you into the ER, yelling frantically for help. You were placed on a gurney, and Dr Laurence was at your side a moment later. She was speaking quickly, but you weren’t sure what she way saying. She looked to Bucky and Steve for answers. She was putting gloves on, reaching for the ultrasound.

You were looking at her shoes. Valentino nude pumps, you’d seen them online two days ago and laughed at the price.

You were barely aware that the ultrasound probe had entered you.

Bucky was petting your hair.

You just stared at her shoes.

The moment you looked away, you would have to start to cope with Steve screaming at Bucky the whole way here. The way your sheets were stained with blood at home. The fact you had a house showing in the morning, and you were going to miss it. The fact you had a million unopened boxes of baby things in your apartment.

Your head just screamed the moment you looked away from Dr Laurence’s shoes, she would tell you your babies were dead.

Your ears rang.

Yesterday, they’d been so active. You were cursing their movements begging for a moment of reprieve. You’d do anything for a small kick right now.

“Y/n!” Dr Laurence looked up at you from between your legs.

You lifted your head from the bed, you tried to speak but no words came out.

She motioned at the ultrasound, “It looks like placenta previa. The bleeding seems to have stopped, but I’m going to get you a transfusion. We’re just looking for a heartbeat now...”

You frowned, placenta previa, that was something you’d read about. That was a normal risk, something that could happen to anyone. And the babies...

The familiar sound of their heartbeats filled your ears.

It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

That was it. The flood gates opened and you started to sob. Steve wrapped his arms around you first. Bucky was next, he embraced the two of you, kissing your forehead gently.

Their words filled your ears, setting a blanket of comfort over you.

“They’re okay, you’re okay.”

“It’ll be okay, you’ve got this.”

“Breathe, just breathe for now.”

“We love you so, so much.”

———

“Okay, we cannot be this unorganized, guys seriously?” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Busy and Steve stood at the end of the bed, their arms crossed over their chest. You sat in bed, your hair in the messiest of buns, looking down at the mess they’d brought you to sort through.

“Well what do you propose?” Steve asked.

“For starters,” You motioned at the mountain of baby clothes in front of you, “Why do we have eight different outfits that were brining to the hospital. There’s two babies.” You held up two fingers for emphasis.

Bucky scratched his head, “This mommy blog said you need two outfits, in case one of them doesn’t fit. Plus, we don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

“They should look cute when coming home,” Steve asserted.

You only blinked. If someone had said this would be your life one year ago, you would have died laughing.

“Okay, fine,” you grabbed the nearest shirt. “We could go gender neutral, you know that right?”

It’s not like you had any shortage of gendered clothing though either. Tony had loaded you up with boy clothing, swearing you would be having two. Natasha had done the same for girl clothing. And Steve had managed to pick out the most extravagant outfits from each section.

“We can,” Steve conceded. “But I want us to have options. See what they look like when they come out.”

Your nose crinkled. You fucking hated that. Come out. Like they would just slide out of you, no issues.

You rubbed your temples, “Okay, but I refuse to have my kids dress matchy matchy their entire lives. They can if they want, but I will never make them wear the same outfit.”

Bucky chuckled, coming to sit on the bed beside you, “That’s going to go over well.”

You glared at him as he completely destroyed your pile of folded baby clothes.

Steve ran his hand through his hair aggressively, “But they’d look so cute.”

You shook your head, “Only if they want to. They need to have their own personalities.”

Steve looked ready to lose his mind, “But...pictures.”

You levelled him with your mom look. You’d been practicing. “I’ll give you Christmas cards. If the two of you also dress matchy matchy if we have a boys.”

“Deal,” Steve didn’t even hesitate.

You could picture it now. Two little boys in dorky ugly Christmas sweaters and beige khakis, their hair spiked up and Steve and Bucky marching to a tee. Oh it would be glorious, but you realized a moment too late you had forgotten yourself in that picture.

You cleared your throat, “Okay, names.”

Bucky reached over, rubbing his hand over where the babies were most active. A slight smile played on his lips as he leaned over to brush his lips over your bare skin.

You tried your best to ignore the shiver of pleasure that went down your spine.

“I don’t care,” Bucky murmured, “I think we should see what they look like when they come out.”

“No,” you ran your hand through his hair. “We pick now or at least get some options.”

Steve came to sit on your other side, disrupting the rest of your pile. You rolled your eyes, so much for nothing.

“Poppy?” He suggested.

You shook your head, “I like Penelope, not Poppy. I don’t believe in naming a kid a nickname. It feels final.”

They both looked at you funny, but you stood by it.

“What about Carter,” you suggested.

“No!” Both boys said in unison. You stopped, thinking about why that name wouldn’t work before bursting out laughing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Steve!” You reached over to stroke his face. “Not Carter.”

He chuckled, “It’s not a bag suggestion. I’d love to honour Peggy, but Sharron might think I named them after her.”

You burst out laughing. What an awkward situation that would be. One you’d pay to see.

“Okay, guys,” you snapped your fingers a couple of times, “We need a couple more names. Some more ideas. Let’s go.”

The name started flowing, and you started feeling more comfortable. Aaron, Grace, Henry, Bonnie, Andrew, Katherine.

You relaxed into your pillows. Your babies would have names. No matter what happened.

———

The boys stayed awake at your side while you slept.

You woke a couple of hours, having only slept for what felt like a short moment to find the two of them drinking coffee and nibbling on muffins.

“You look like shit,” you commented, stretching an arm over your head.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “Look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

You grasped your hand to you chest in mock hurt, “Oh, burn.” You said sarcastically.

Steve chuckled, getting up to come over and kiss your forehead, “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

You stroked his beard lovingly, “I’m okay, and now I’m worried about you two. I’m fine, go home and shower and sleep. Please.”

Steve pressed another kiss to your forehead before moving to sit down beside Bucky, “Not gonna happen, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not going to have the babies today. You’re useless to me tired. Go home. Please.”

Bucky shook his head, “We’ll take turns, how about that?”

You rolled your eyes, “You two need to talk and go get me some stuff. Please, let me worry about you two right now instead of myself. Just for a moment. It would make me feel better if you just got some rest at home.”

It took some more convincing, but they finally left. And you were left in peaceful silence. You looked down at your belly. One of the babies gave a swift kick. You smoothed over the spot gently, “I love you, please stay in there a while longer, okay?”

“We’re going to do everything in our power to do so,” Dr Laurence stood in the door way.

You smiled, “I can’t thank you enough for being here last night.”

She nodded, coming to sit on the stool by your bed. She didn’t look happy. You braced a hand protectively over your belly.

She tapped her tablet with a manicured nail, “I’m concerned.”

“Okay...?”

“I’m not going to be gentle. Your blood pressure is through the roof,” she clarified. “You’re at risk for preeclampsia, your labs suggest that this half of your pregnancy is going to be hard. You’re in for a world of hurt. And I don’t think delivery is going to be any easier. I don’t think a vaginal delivery will be an option. You will be on bed rest until you give birth, and I doubt you’ll make it to thirty five weeks. In all honestly, I’ll be impressed if you make it to thirty. But your medical history and labs also suggests a c-section is also not a good option.”

You let out a little laugh, leaning back against the headboard. “The last time I saw you, you were singing praises for how well things were going.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, “I also said you should be taking it easy and lowering your stress levels.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, “Are you suggesting I did something wrong?”

Dr Laurence raked a hand through her hair, “I’m not saying you did, but I’m saying we need to start taking this seriously now because I’m not sure how to get the three of you through a safe delivery.”

Your mouth went dry. ‘The three of you,’ had always been you, Bucky, and Steve. It took on a whole new meaning when it was in reference to you and your children.

You may not have lost them last night, but you were well on your way.

“You’ll be on strict bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy,” Dr Laurences’ voice softened. “The good news is, the bleeding has stopped and you’ll be able to go home soon for a couple of weeks at least. We’ll do everything we can to get your blood pressure under control.”

Your hands shook as you reached up to wipe away a tear. “Not of a word of this to the boys.”

Her eyesbrows rose to her hairline, “They need to know so they can take care of you.”

You shook your head, “I have one who is a stiffling mother hen. If he’s worked up, so am I. And the other one is recovering from a major head trauma. He doesn’t remember everything in the last eighteen months. The only thing I can do for him now is to help him get back to where he was.”

“No,” Dr Laurence shook her head. “You need to take this seriously now or you will not make it through delivery. If they think you’re fine and brush it off as a little blood, you will end up in a much worse situation.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “We’re not going to play this game, doctor. I will take this seriously and if you put me on bed rest, I will follow it. I just don’t want the risks exposed to my boyfriends. And, you do get to tell them without my consent.”

Dr Laurence looked like she was ready to throw her tablet. “Fine, but the moment things start going south, you will end up in hospital supervised bed rest.”

You glared right back at her, “Looking forward to it.”

————

You sat between your boys watching TV when it happened.

You paused, your food halfway to your face as you felt another tightening in your stomach. They had been happening all day, but all of the sudden you were aware of one thing, it was far too painful for it not to be a contraction.

You dropped your fork onto the duvet.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked jumping to his feet.

You quirked your head to the side, looking down at your belly, “I think I’m in labour.”

“Shit!” Steve was suddenly gone.

Bucky calmly took your plate and fork and put them on the side table, “You sure?”

“Mmhmmm,” you hummed, as you let out a long breath. “We probably have hours to go though.”

Bucky nodded, “Let me call Dr Laurence.”

Your mouth tightened. She was the last person you wanted to see. You especially didn’t want to hear her gloat that she was right, you’d only made it to thirty-two weeks. Damn her.

Steve’s head popped in the room, “But it’s too early!” And he was gone again.

Your eyebrows rose to your hair line, he was taking this as well as you expected.

On your other side, Bucky put his phone to his chest and said, “Dr Laurence wants you to come in right away.”

You pinched your nose, “I don’t want to labour for the next twelve hours there when I can do it from home.”

Bucky relayed that information to her. And then asked, “Has your water broken?”

You shook your head.

Steve walked through the bedroom, going into the bathroom, talking a mile a minute. “—and we don’t have enough nipple cream!” Was all you caught. You could hear drawers being rummaged through in the bathroom.

“She says to come in anyways,” Bucky relayed to you. “And she says you’re clearly not taking this seriously.”

You rolled your eyes, of course she did.

“And we need another bathroom,” Steve murmured as he walked out of the room again.

“Fine,” you snapped. “And go calm Steve down.”

Another contraction hit hard. Your breath hitched.

Your birth plan, if you were having a vaginal delivery, was to go all natural, but now you were thinking an epidural sounded wonderful.

“You okay?” Bucky rubbed your back.

You took deep breaths, but nodded weakly. “Let’s go, please.”

He nodded, leaving the room to get Steve and your bags, but Steve stood at the door, bags in hand and simply said, “We need to go, guys.”

Bucky came around the bed to help you up. His arms around you, you barely made it out the bedroom before you felt a rush of fluids.

“Well, fuck.” Bucky mumbled.

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark @spookyparadisesheep @bloodbrink @holl2712

#bucky barnes #steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #stucky x pregnant!reader #stucky x reader #stucky #bucky x pregnant!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

192 notes · View notes

jlf23tumble · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if it’s just me but this is Harry’s least “sus” relationship for me. Like, Camille would have been pointless as a stunt because they were hardly seen together and nobody knew who she was but at least it wasn’t detrimental and she was someone who his fans could project themselves on but Olivia??

Like, there’s the whole timeline thing, which I won’t get into, I don’t care and it’s none of my business but a lot of people do care and the media brought it up constantly at the beginning, that’s bad press for both of them. It’s her second directorial project and people are gonna talk about her boyfriend more than her, I doubt Olivia would want that if she wasn’t in love with said boyfriend. There’s the whole knowing how much scrutiny it will add to the movie, there’s the whole age gap thing and the whole, you know, her having kids.

Like, who does this benefit? Yeah the movie has been featured on tabloids a lot more than it would’ve otherwise, but with the cast it already has and the premise, it didn’t need that sort of push? There are so many articles by so many huge media outlets talking about how excited they are for the movie and hardly anyone even mentions their relationship in it.

Also, 99% of what the fandom knows about the relationship, the GP doesn’t, all the fan photos, all the walks, all the sharing clothes thing, that she and her kids live with him, that she drives his car, that they spent Christmas with both of their families and stuff, like nobody is checking for that, so what’s the point of it?? So much time and effort from two huge millionaire celebrities to convince a handful of fans that would’ve watched the movie regardless?

Also Harry is at a point in his career where being single and attainable would be a HUGE advantage, career-wise. Harry as a stepdaddy with a girlfriend pushing 40 is probably one of the least attractive scenarios for fans who want to project themselves with him. And while men don’t exactly go obsolete once they reach 30, it’s always a better age for heartthrobs to be in their 20s rather than 30s. So these last few years, where he’s at the top of the game in terms of fame and career, still in his 20s, are probably exactly when “they” would want him single and available. Any “stunt” would be with a highly desirable “it” woman like, idk, Bella Hadid or Sydney Sweeney, and last a couple of months tops.

And they can’t claim “she’s a beard” because Harry was single for nearly 3 years and nobody’s mind changed about his sexuality lmao. Also nobody would’ve thought that he was gay because he played a gay man in a movie. So I’m just here confused, what exactly is the gain of this “stunt”?

I can understand thinking Taylor or Kendall were stunts. I don’t think they were but at least they were high profile and got him a ton of publicity. I can understand thinking that Nadine or Camille were stunts because while pointless at least they weren’t harmful and they were pretty models his fans could project themselves onto and use for their Wattpad covers. Olivia makes zero sense as a stunt in any capacity.

Ma'am or sir, this is one long-ass ask full of utter nonsense that required coffee in the morning and wine at night to even read it through, and the wine is just kicking in enough to make me want to indulge in this utter waste of time responding to you, so here goes! Bulleted notes, by paragraph-response level first, then my own hot takes, and honestly, if you make me read something this long, guess what, you're gonna do the same! More under the cut because I love my mutuals who don't have to deal with this level of horseshit, and I can type fast:

1. (para 1) Better question: Why is Camille's relationship more "sus" than this one when they both serve the exact same purpose (i.e., givin' the gloss to the shine of whatever's happening lyrically in the album to come)? Camille isn't pointless if you a) want to write some breakup songs and then b) publicly break up with someone. I haven't heard hs3 yet, but I'm definitely curious about the content accordingly. Oh, and RED FLAG #1 here for the use of "detrimental," holy fuck, this fandom and the way it hates women, babes, he hired her, he "benefits” a lot more than she does (evidence: the garbage in the rest of this ask and anyone in the olivia/holivia tags). God, I love seeing posts going around right after they slam Olivia saying, it's never okay to blame someone who's in the closet, the irony being it's totally okay to blame the person that the person in the closet hired to help them stay in the closet. And what if THAT person might also not be straight? Anyone??

2. (para 2) This timeline business, no, my love, you DO care, seemingly lots of people who hate women care, lmao. From what I've seen, the movie hasn't gotten bad movie press beyond people in fandom wanting it to, there's a lot of hype (see literally your next paragraph), with most publications helmed by women going with the geddit, gurl response, and most publications run by men thinking Olivia's their dream girl, so geddit, gurl (at Harry). Movie publications genuinely don't care who's fucking who, they literally never have beyond the tee hee gossip of it all. Olivia doesn't need a bunch of accolades for Flo's oscar-winning performance, she needs seats in seats (this is my guess), like any director, and she's gonna geddit (gurl). Good for her! Wish people could give this much of a shit when male directors date their female stars and the public lines blur. RED FLAG #2 for the "worrying" about the age gap--she's ten years older, he's a grown-ass adult (again, where's the concern if that sex is flipped), the whole "you know, her having kids." GOD FORBID someone has kids somewhere and publicly dates someone else, so glad for all of us that fans are in the know about what the kids deal with on the daily in this situation, but I would pay TOP DOLLAR to see this level of concern about a male director's kids when he's publicly seen with someone who isn't their mom. I'll even give you a freebie--what about Jason? Worried about what the kids think about him dating someone HALF his age? Is he a bad dad when he's out on a date or walking down a street with her? He has a hella popular tv show...how's he juggling it?

3. (para 3) You answered your own question here--yeah, there ARE tons of huge media outlets talking about this movie that would've been an arthouse hit at best. They don't mention the relationship because it doesn't matter, yet it helped put said movie on their radar because all that online chatter matters, click click, etc. That's show BIZ, it happens every single day, every single movie, it's practically what helps make a smaller movie bigger. Or a bigger movie bigger. This isn't new or news!!

4. (para 4) See above, what's not clicking, the point of it is clicks! And there is ZERO time and effort put into it, they've done a few pap walks (idk the term for boat walk), and it's done! Sold! Clicked! I don't know how this is some kind of burden for anyone--other than those people who feel compelled to click on the link, then copy, paste, circle in red, underline, add arrows, attribute the wrong emotions to facial characteristics, repeat, then reblog it ad nauseum so everyone in fandom sees it. Talk about doing the work! It ain't Harry Styles, bb!

5. (para 5) I'm actually kind of relieved to see the ageism in this para also applied to Harry, too, but I'd suggest that maybe, just maybe, Harry doesn't WANT to be seen as single and ready to mingle (I haven't heard the album yet, though). Even then, gasp, what if he WANTS to be a stepmom?? How dare he!

6. (para 6) This is the para that broke me, where to even start, my love, SO MANY PEOPLE think he's gay, he has openly and actively played with that perception, and for whatever reasons you want to imagine, he's not openly actively out yet, hence he has a beard. You know, someone he has hired to help maintain his public privacy in terms of his sexuality. Every sentence in this para, whew.

7. (para 7) Okay, THIS is the para that lost me because if you don't think TAYLOR SWIFT or KENDALL JENNER were stunts or beards, I wonder if you can handle the idea of bearding in general and/or the concept that women in Hollywood aren't always straight eitehr. I know, it's hard to think of women outside the male lens, but maybe--just MAYBE--it's mutually beneficial, le gasp! I would also argue the "harmful" here because lorde, so many people were up in arms about Camille, and they just doubled down on Olivia, which is truly ironic if you identify as a l*rrie. Olivia makes THE MOST sense if you DO identify as such, but again, haven't heard the lyrics yet, just guessin'.

....blergh I ran out of steam on my own hot takes, but I'll say this:

1. Friendly reminder, you don't work at HQ, you do not get paid to know, to wonder, or to worry what the purpose of ANY of it is. Maybe there is one! Maybe there isn't! Who cares!

2. How sad I am for people who wring their hands over this kind of inconsequential bullshit instead of finding like-minded people to laff with over crack theories like the Oli/Eleanor strike for better benefits, Jeff's obsession with the TV show House meaning he forced Harry to write Olivia back in 2014 and date her now...and possibly name this album Harry's House as the world's best homage. Jesus CHRIST, have some fun! If you're gonna traffic in nonsense, for the love of yourself, traffic in fun nonsense. (Note: this does not apply to BONKERS people who legit think that Jeff sold Harry to Olivia Wilde for ~reasons, you gotta NOT hate women for true fandom enjoyment to seep in, which probably explains so much of the misery, if u think about it)

3. I could argue until I'm blue in the face about closeting, but this is a weird fandom that insists on outing its faves and not getting that the forcing of that card is just gonna push the doubling down on NOT coming out until your faves are able or willing to come out. And that might never happen, tbh! And you might have to live with that, you know, because it's okay!

#one direction #LONG POST #i just...i don't know what to say at a certain point #it's hard when you don't know how old or how naive someone is #but the heavy cloak of misogyny is a tougher deal imo #imagine bringing this nonsense to me lmao

8 notes · View notes

asstronauts · 4 years ago

Text

Alphabet Soup

rating: t word count: 1.7k pairing: jemily summary: perhaps love is in the little moments more than the grand gestures. 26 times (among many) that JJ and Emily fall a little bit more in love with each other in the everyday, smaller moments.

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

A - alphabet soup

JJ bought cans of alphabet soup for the boys when Michael first began to read, but Emily quickly found it much more entertaining to spell out words like "boob" or "ass" or "sex?" punctuated with a poorly modified capital P in place of a question mark. JJ had to shut it down when Michael asked what a "tit" was, and Emily panicked and mumbled something about birds.

B - bedtime

They would often unwind by reading before bedtime, and JJ found that Emily read through many foreign literature books. The nights she would fall asleep to Emily stroking her hair and reading aloud in words she didn't understand were the nights she felt most rested.

C - constellations

It was clear that Emily didn't actually know any constellations besides the Big Dipper and Orion. But when she laid on the grass with Henry and Michael, she made up stories in the stars about great heroes and the adventures they went on, and the boys fell in love with the night sky.

D - driving

JJ insisted on driving everywhere without the help of smartphone maps, which had gotten them lost on several occasions. Somehow it felt alright, when she had one hand on the wheel and one hand on Emily's leg, the windows were down, and her hair was streaming in the wind and reflecting the setting sun. Somehow it felt alright to be lost with her.

E - errands

For whatever reason, JJ made running any errand seem like immense fun. Buying groceries, getting gas, even sending a letter felt like an adventure when she was there. They'd only gotten kicked out of one grocery store — when JJ had knocked over an entire display stand of candy bars after running and jumping onto a shopping cart. They didn't regret anything.

F - forehead kiss

JJ wasn't that much shorter than Emily, but when the brunette pressed her lips to her girlfriend's forehead, JJ would feel the need to bury her face in Emily's neck to hide her blushing cheeks.

G - graveyard

On that day, JJ just needed space. So Emily took her to the flower shop the day before and drove her to the cemetery that morning and left her alone until she was ready. In the evening, they didn't speak, just laid with one another on the couch until JJ fell asleep in her arms.

H - horror movie

It was a cheap jump scare, but it made JJ scream out and grab Emily's arm, prompting the older woman to laugh at her. JJ responded with a playful slap, and Emily had to kiss her to reaffirm her love. They didn't finish the movie.

I - ice cream

On a day off, Emily took the boys to get ice cream, and when they came home raving about how Emily had managed to stack five ice cream scoops on top of a single cone, JJ knew she was with the right woman.

J - jaw

Emily's knees grew weak whenever JJ kissed up her jaw and whispered in her ear. Her girlfriend caught on and loved messing with her, working her up into a complete frenzy, then saying the most unsexy thing she could think of. Emily hated it, but she also couldn’t help but to collapse into a fit of giggles when JJ planted kisses all up the side of her face and whispered something like "corned beef" in a seductive voice.

K - kitchen

JJ would use every kitchen utensil as a musical instrument during any spare moment in cooking — while the food was cooking, while the water boiled, while the oven was preheating. She would sing into a wooden spoon and shove it into Emily's face to finish the lyric, and the two would dance in each others' arms all throughout the kitchen.

L - letters

When Emily spent her time in Paris and London, she and JJ wrote each other scores of letters the times they weren't together. They'd both filled up an entire box of papers and knickknacks until they were reunited. Even after, JJ would sometimes write a letter addressed to Emily, drop it into the mailbox and tell Emily to check the mail, for no reason except to make her smile.

M - mugs

JJ had an entire cupboard dedicated to mugs for her tea, which Emily could never understand because she only seemed to ever use two of them: one being a lumpy mug Henry had made in a pottery store and the other being a Valentine’s Day gift from Emily with lovely ceramic boobs protruding from the mug’s body.

N - notes

Emily bought a massive pack of post-its and began leaving notes for JJ around work, bringing a smile to her face every time she found a little colorful message. Some were encouraging — you can do it, you light up my world, you're amazing. Some were cheesy — i love you, je t’aime, when you see this blow me a kiss. And some were...questionable — JJ had to hide the extremely accurate (and well-annotated!) drawing of her naked body before Hotch saw.

O - omelette

Most of the time, Emily couldn't cook without the risk of burning the house down, but for some reason, she made the most scrumptious omelette. Despite not knowing how to cook scrambled or fried or boiled eggs, Emily's omelettes were always perfectly cooked, with an impeccable ratio of egg to filling. JJ tried everything she could to make them the same way, but the boys always preferred Emily's omelettes on Sunday mornings. JJ wondered if it was something she learned during her time in Paris.

P - plants

Before JJ, Emily had never been very good at taking care of plants. They seemed to die with little to no warning. But JJ had taught her well, making little plant calendars and teaching her signs to watch out for, and one morning, JJ caught her talking to one of the plants. As she listened more carefully, she heard that Emily was talking to each plant in a different language — according to the plant’s country of origin.

Q - quiet

The moments after the boys were put to bed were some of the only moments of quiet JJ and Emily got alone during the day. No matter how busy or tired they were, they always intentionally took a few moments to just quietly be with one another, curled up in the other's arms, lying in the other's lap, or simply sitting side by side.

R - rain

They'd gotten caught in the storm on the way back to the office from lunch. Despite JJ’s coat held up above them, the pair was getting drenched anyway, and they gave up and decided to make out in the rain instead. They swung their hands back and forth as they splashed over to the BAU, arriving soaked to the bone but elated, as Hotch shook his head at their sodden clothing and dopey grins.

S - Sergio

Emily had arrived home early and found JJ dancing in the hallway with Sergio to "Can't Stop the Feeling" blasting on the bluetooth speaker. She lifted her ban on Justin Timberlake that day, which had previously been in place when in a moment of weakness, JJ had declared she would choose him over Emily if given the chance. (She’d taken it back for Emily's sake, but deep down she couldn't really decide.)

T - thermostat

JJ liked the thermostat to be set at no lower than 77 degrees, while Emily loved the room as cold as possible. The first few months that they lived together was a horrible battle of constantly changing from one drastic temperature to the next, before JJ finally agreed to keeping the temperature low as long as Emily agreed to cuddle with her any time she got cold. Emily did not, however, realize that this compromise extended to the workplace, where JJ would sporadically ask for cuddles throughout the day, and Emily would have to comply.

U - ugly pajamas

Emily loved her ugly pajama sets. One of her favorites was a bright green Grinch onesie in a ridiculous Christmas sweater. JJ hated it until Emily showed it to the boys, and Michael howled with laughter and asked for one for himself. From that day forward, Emily bought her ugly pajamas in full family sets, including accompanying costumes for Sergio.

V - vanilla

Emily didn’t quite mind JJ’s early morning jogs because her favorite moments were when JJ came home after, took a shower, and climbed back into bed to give Emily a warm embrace, flooding her senses with the smell of vanilla shampoo. Emily would roll over to nuzzle her head in the crook of JJ’s neck and plant soft kisses there, breathing in her favorite scent.

W - wine

Emily drank red, JJ drank white. And Henry and Michael loved to join in, pretending to be adults by sipping grape juice from their colorful cups. Perhaps their family had unconventional tea parties, but at least they always had massive amounts of fun doing family activities tipsy. These were the nights when it was almost difficult to tell the difference between Michael and Emily’s coloring pages.

X - X-Files

JJ didn’t fully understand Emily’s deep obsession with The X-Files, but after Emily convinced her that she wasn’t only watching for Gillian Anderson, the younger woman began finding the long rambles and discussions of extraterrestrial life more endearing and interesting.

Y - yarn

JJ really wanted to get the hang of knitting and give something special to the boys, but Emily kept distracting her. Any chance she got, Emily would hold the yarn balls to her chest as fake boobs, use threads of yarn as mustaches, and drum the knitting needles against any surface. It wasn’t that JJ couldn't finish her projects out of annoyance — it was that JJ couldn’t help but laugh and find her girlfriend irresistible, forcing her to set aside her work and wrap herself up instead in the brunette’s embrace.

Z - zoo

It was Emily's explosive childlike joy when she had seen the dolphins. She claimed it was for the boys’ sakes, but JJ had noticed the pure excitement in her eyes when they saw the sign and felt the way Emily had tugged on her wrist to rush to the stadium and grab seats right in the splash zone. And in the screams of laughter and the moment when both Henry and Michael clutched at Emily when the water washed over them, JJ knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this woman.

#sorry wait these are just me projecting #and sorry melia i borrowed your xfiles content #i'm writing some angst rn so i did these to balance it out #more list of headcanons than fic but #maybe i'll take one or two and expand #tw alcohol mention #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #jemily #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #my post #i am soft for: jemily

120 notes · View notes

radiantroope · 4 years ago

Text

Passed Around || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: john b, pope, kiara

requested: no

summary: everyone in the outer banks has their opinions of you. a touron with a smart mouth learns just how quick jj will come to your defense.

warnings: underage consumption of drugs/alcohol, swearing, violence, blood

author’s note: i just started writing randomly and this was the product, enjoy.

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

* i do not own this gif! if it’s yours, please let me know so i can properly credit you! *

Of course, there was another party at The Boneyard. No surprise there. Summer or Winter, there was always a party. The amount of people that filled the beach always somehow managed to surprise you, especially when it was off season for the tourists. Sometimes you’d still get a couple; people visiting family who lived on the island for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It was the beginning of December and you’d just arrived at the beach, already hearing thumping music and loud laughter. The brisk ocean air was much colder than you preferred as it came off the ocean. You were yearning for those hot Summer nights again.

You pulled the jacket you were wearing tighter around yourself and continued on your way down to your friends. Just as you hopped over one of the dead and forgotten trees, you heard a shout of your name. You looked to the kegs and smiled when you saw Kiara waving her arm.

As you approached her, you raised an eyebrow at the three kegs set up. Three, how did they manage to score three? You didn’t ask, sometimes you were just better off not knowing. You gratefully took the plastic cup John B passed you and quickly drank some of the bitter liquid.

“Rough day?” the curly haired boy raised an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but ranted anyway, “My grandma is still here. She was supposed to leave after Thanksgiving and now my parents tell me she’s staying all the way through Christmas! If I have to listen to her talk about what college I should go to or about boys any longer, I’m gonna go insane!”

“Does- she doesn’t know about JJ?” Kiara asked with her brows furrowed.

“Oh, she does, but she’s in some alternate reality where she thinks I’ll marry a Kook and be a trophy wife,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile on your face, “My mom’s told her a hundred times that JJ and I are together and nothing will change that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the said blonde who was sitting in a circle with some other teenagers. You saw smoke pillowing through the air and were hit with the faint smell of weed. JJ’s cerulean eyes caught yours and he smiled, waving for you to join him.

“Go, we’ll catch up about your crazy grandma later,” Kiara said, smiling at you.

You smiled back at the girl and turned to walk towards your boyfriend, calling over your shoulder, “Love you, Kie!”

You and JJ had gotten together about nine months ago. Years of longing looks and lingering touches were driving your friends insane. How could two people be so oblivious? Everyone knew your hearts were set on each other, but the two of you were always too stubborn to admit it. Plus, you didn’t want to be the one to break the no macking rule.

One day at the Chateau it boiled over when one of your hookups over stayed his welcome. JJ woke up for the third morning in a row to find the guy helping himself to his stash. He lost it. He wailed on the poor boy and literally kicked him out the door. This resulted in you insisting you liked him and the blonde calling bullshit.

“How do you know how I feel, JJ? You don’t!” you’d screamed, stomping your foot like an angry toddler who’d just been told no as you tried to get your point across.

“Yes I do! Pope told me you’re in love with me!”

Yeah, Pope spilled the beans after you made the drunken confession one night. You swore him to secrecy, but that boy couldn’t keep secrets to save his life most of the time. You still to this day would never let him live that down. But how could you stay mad at him when it resulted in the best possible outcome? JJ was yours, and you were his, finally.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” you flirted as you walked over to the blonde boy.

JJ smiled and laughed, shaking his head at you, “You’re rediculous.”

“But you love me,” you stated as you plopped yourself on his lap, sitting most of your weight on his thigh. His arm wrapped around your waist tightly and he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Damn right I do.”

You watched as a blunt was passed around the group and listened in on the conversation, chimming in now and again. You took a few puffs yourself when JJ held it up to your lips. You weren’t a big smoker though. Half of the time it made you more anxious than it calmed your down.

JJ had gone to get you both refills on your beers but got distracted talking to Pope and John B. You took his seat and turned to watch him, smiling when he laughed and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His bright white teeth sparkled in the glow of a fire that was going. You watched as the breeze blew his cut off tank and you caught his muscles tense at the cold hair.

“So you and Maybank, huh?” a voice caught your attention and you whipped around.

A Touron, Dominic, who frequented the island this time of year sat in front of you. He had shaggy dark brown hair that was straight and fell around his face, barely touching his jaw. His eyes were a beautiful mossy shade of green. You probably would have hooked up with him in the past is he wasn’t known to be such an ass. He ran around with Rafe and his goons during the day and spent his nights on The Cut causing trouble. He was nicknamed “girlfriend stealer” after many-a-hookups that resulted in ended relationships.

“Yeah,” you responded blandly. There was no way in hell you were going to entertain this kid. He took pride in stealing people’s girls; you would not be one of them.

“You could do better,” Dominic remarked, an infuriating smirk growing on his face. You resisted the urge to slap it right off.

“Like you?” you scoffed, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t act like you don’t want to. I remember the way you used to look at me.”

You clenched your jaw and pressed your lips into a line. You stared at him with a blank expression, the smirk on his face growing. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off.

“Everything okay over here?” JJ asked from behind you.

He’d seen the way Dominic was looking at you. He knew the game the little shit was playing, and it was a dangerous one. The group of teenagers in the circle you were sitting in looked between the three of you nervously. They all knew better than to push JJ, especially when it came to you. He was quick to fight - even quicker when it was over you.

“Yeah man! Just telling Y/N here she used to be a lot more fun before she got a boyfriend,” Dominic replied casually, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

You stood up and turned to face JJ, seeing that he’d handed your drink refills off to John B and Pope who stood behind him. He’d been anticipating this the moment he saw you two talking. You put your hands on the blonde’s chest and stared up at him.

“Let’s just go, J. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nah, I want to hear what he has to say,” JJ pushed your hands off his chest, eyes never leaving the brunette who was now standing.

Dominic snickered and pushed his hair back off his forehead, saying, “I heard she got passed around quite a bit. Rafe sure had a lot to say about her. Was hoping I could find out for myself.”

Low blow, asshole, you thought to yourself, feeling your stomach sink at the mention of the oldest Cameron sibling. You’d messed around with him long before you and JJ got together, Topper too. It put a rift between you and the Pogues for a while. They didn’t care who you slept with, as long as they weren’t Kooks, but you did what you wanted. JJ was the most upset. You were sleeping with the enemy.

JJ went to walk around you, ready to pummel Dominic into the sand. You grabbed the front of JJ’s shirt and pushed him back with all of your strength. You hated when he got in fights. You couldn’t watch. Most of the time he won, but when he didn’t, you had to clean him up. You tried to keep him out of them the best you could.

“Don’t, JJ, please,” you begged, pushing against his abs, “It’s not worth it.”

JJ’s eyes flickered down to yours, his cold gaze softening a bit when he looked at your pleading face.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding. You really are her bitch,” Dominic said through a laugh when he realized you were convincing JJ not to fight him.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yelled over your shoulder, pushing your boyfriend back once again.

It was useless, JJ managed to get past you, your hands grabbing onto his arms and shirt - whatever you could get ahold of to keep him back. John B grabbed your arm the second the blonde’s fist hit Dominic’s face. You looked back at your curly haired friend and he simply shook his head. Not even Pope moved, they were going to let the guy get his assbeat for talking about you like that. No one talked about you like that.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that again!” JJ yelled, arms swinging, “I’ll kill you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!”

You tried to shout your boyfriend’s name over the cheering from people watching the fight. He couldn’t hear you, still standing over Dominic who’d been knocked down. He landed blow after blow against the Touron’s face.

“Alright, JJ!” John B yelled, stepping forward.

“He’s had enough, man!” Pope added.

You breathed in deeply through your nose and closed your eyes for a second. As you opened your eyes, you screamed JJ’s name as loud as you could. It was so loud, everyone went quiet and their eyes turned to you.

The blonde froze, fist still pulled back mid swing. His anger fueled frenzy was over and he was brought back to Earth by your voice. He dropped Dominic, who was groaning in pain, into the sand by his shirt. His arm fell to his side and he turned to face you. He had blood trickling down from his nose but other than that, he seemed to be perfectly unharmed.

“Are you done?” you questioned, arms crossing over your chest with a raised brow.

JJ simply nodded in response and walked away from the boy he’d just seriously beaten. He approached you with slumped shoulders and sheepish expression, knowing you were going to scold him for getting in yet another fight. But how could he just stand there and let someone degrade you like that?

“Sorry,” he muttered softly and reached for you, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you back towards the kegs. Kiara stood there, shaking her head as she had watched the altercation from afar.

“If he presses charges, you’re thouroughly fucked, you know that?” you asked him seriously. Though you brought your hand up and intertwined your fingers with his that was hanging off your shoulder.

The blonde boy nodded and took a cup of beer from Kie with his free hand. He downed it all in one go, grunting as he pulled the cup away from his lips. He gave it back for her to refill.

“I know you’re trying to defend me, J, but sometimes I wish you could just walk away,” you sighed and leaned into him, feeling a kiss against the top of your head.

“I’ll try to be better, promise,” he mumbled into your hair and when he pulled his head back you heard him laugh softly. He wiped his hand against your hair and when you looked up at him, he gave you an innocent smile. You saw the trail of blood leaving his nose was smeared and narrowed your eyes.

“You got blood in my hair, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

728 notes · View notes

haifengg · 3 years ago

Text

Victon Falling for their Childhood Friend

Summary: He’s known you since you were kids and because fate moves in mysterious ways you have never been apart from each other for long.

Genre: Fluff! // Crack if you squint

-> Seungwoo. He is very career oriented. Because he loves what he is doing. It plays a very important role in his life. Well, it actually is his life more or less. But that also means that he barely ever gets to see his parents and therefore hasn’t seen you in ages. But when he did one Christmas Day he was so surprised about how much you changed. Not just physically but also mentally. The two of you met at the grocery store where your mother had send you to get more ingredients for dinner and he bumps into you in the frozen aisle. At first you didn’t recognise him but then you start to chat like in the old days. Of course you had heard about his career but when you tell him that you never found the time to check it out or google it he gets a little sulky. But you clear it up quickly: “Its not that I am not interested! Your job sounds so interesting! Its just that I have been insanely busy ever since I graduated … you know we are launching this new collection next spring and I am still up our suppliers .. well you know-“, you sigh. “I will definitely go and check it out once I find the time somehow!” After listening to you carefully and reassuring you that he fully understands how it is not having time for anything he asks you if you like your job and your eyes suddenly sparkle. “I do! Yes, I really do. It is very different from what I thought I would be doing but its very interesting and every day is different. There are so many things to learn and to take care of, I really feel needed, you know?” Even though the frozen peas in his hands start to melt he would let you go on and on about it because he suddenly realises that you are just like him. In love with your job. Something he never thought he would see on someone else. That exhilarating passion. Being 100% committed. Then suddenly he notices all these other little things about you. He truly started to see you in a different light.

-> Byungchan. One day he sits on the porch of his parents’ house, having ice cream like a grown-up. He’s home because of a huge birthday in his family. Just sitting there and watching the neighbours getting some gardening done, as suddenly an actually pricey car pulls up in the drive way next door. Some woman gets out and he Is fully taken aback to the point where he forgets about his ice cream. It is like this scene in movies. The protagonist sees someone special and their breath is completely taken away. Except that’s no. movie, Byungchan is no protagonist and that person he is looking at is you. Which he notices himself the second you take off your sunglasses and wave at him.

“Byungchan! You’re home?”

You walk over and up the path to his house in your office work clothes and Byungchan has to gather all his remaining brain cells to form a: “Y/N? Is that you?” You nod and pull him into a hug as you reached him. Like you always did when you were kids. “Yes of course! Oh my god you got so tall what did they feed you in college?” His heart dropped as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he laughed nervously.

What was he supposed to reply?? All he could think about was how gorgeous you had become. How independent you looked. Not to mention how impressed he was by that car lmao.

-> Seungsik. Since he was your neighbour all the way back, you have seen each other growing up. But more importantly: Seungsik has seen your error and trial progress of learning how to cook. Its not that you invited him over to cook for him but as teenagers he would randomly come over and by chance witness some of your great failures.

But now you were living in different cities, not being neighbours anymore but still close friends. One night he calls you, asking if he could come visit you next week since he was in town for a meeting. Of course you happily agree, promising him to cook dinner. After hanging up and the entire following days Seungsik was anticipating his visit, curiously awaiting to get to experience your now probably very good cooking skills.

Eventually he arrived at your place 20 minutes early because there was less traffic that he was calculating with. And when he rang at your door you just bolted there to open it, quickly gave him a hug and ran back into the kitchen. Because there was smoke everywhere.

“What’S going on?” He asked following you but all you replied was: “Can you take the batteries out of the smoke alarm? I don’t need the fire department to show up at my door again.”

“Again??” He did what he was told and eventually the two of you stood in the kitchen, eying a briquette like something int the casserole.

“I am so sorry. I really tried my best this time. I wanted to impress you. But we can absolutely order something! My treat.” You say and chuckle completely embarrassed. But Seungsik waved it off. “Don’t worry. I can make something?” Even though you insist on ordering in he sat you down on your own sofa and somehow magically created something very home made to eat for the two of you within 15 minutes.

Who are we kidding? This is not how Seungsik notices he likes you but you notice that you like him.

-> Sejun. I don’t know how to put this into many words because it is very simple: Even after graduating high school and only seeing each other a couple of times a year in your home town - you’re still kicking his ass like you used to too. But now you’re hot. It’s as easy as that. During elementary and middle school - even in high school - the two of you were best friends who never ever thought about having feelings for each other. Of course some of his friends asked you out occasionally and most of the girls in class envied you for your relationship with him and the other boys but you never thought much of it and neither did he. But now that you’re in you 20s and still act around him like you used to things begin to change for him. Especially since you fought in your parent’s kitchen over the last piece of honeycomb your mother made. You held him headlock and he was not just turning red because the blood was rushing to his head but also because he was smothered by your boobs (that he now had to acknowledge). When you led go of him he was out of breath because of your awesome headlock technique. And because he now looked at you teasing him about the honeycomb and he, for the first time ever, noticed saw you as a woman. Not just as his friend.

-> Heochan. It had probably been 4 years since you last saw each other at the high school graduation. And you were close friends back then. Maybe not best friends but very close. And he probably always had a thing for you but either a) Never admitted it to himself or b) never went after it.

But when he saw you at the pre-school he knew he had to. Because you somehow transformed into his ideal type. He stopped by the pre-school to surprise pick up his nephew. And he never thought he would meet you there overseeing the pick up of your students.

“You became a teacher?” He asked you before even greeting and as you turned around your eyes lit up. “Heochan! Oh my god I has been so long.” You chat for a bit and he explains why he’s there. Eventually you were still at work and busy but you agree on meeting that weekend for coffee. So you got back to work but Heochan didn’t actually leave right away but observed you talking to the kids and the parents until his nephew begged him to finally go home.

In the car his nephew went on and on about his day and what sort of dirt he ate at the playground but instead of being worried about his nephew, his thoughts were still caught up with you. He was thinking about the clothes you wore and how the dress and cardigan was making your whole appearance look very soft and calm… Yes he was definitely love struck.

-> Hanse. You see each other frequently. At least once a week meeting for coffee at a local non-chain coffee shop became your tradition. It was shier luck you entered the same college and therefore never lived far apart from each other. You both equally valued and cherished the possibility to talk to and vent with someone you have known for a long time and who knows you very well. One thing you always did was venting about your job. And Hanse loved hearing about it because the way you talked about your boss or some other issue was always very direct and comically. So he enjoyed it a lot. He would listen to you all smiley and snickering. And one day he noticed how much the topic of your bickering had changed. Back in the day it would be about how unfair your shifts were and how much you had to do. Lately it was more about how your male colleagues treated you at work and how sexist it was. You tend to notice more subtle and passive aggressive behaviours of them and tell Hanse about it. Which made him notice how mature you became.

“I am telling you, and this is no joke, he came to work and walked by the window of my office. And the first thing he did was ask me how I was doing and as I said ‘fine’ he gave me this look. This Are-you-really-fine-or-are-you-becoming-an-emtional-stress-mess. I swear to god one day I will end him. Also the other day one of the guys at the ware house actually asked me if I was down spending an hour or two with him with this smug look on his face.”

Hanse raised a brow: “What did you tell him?”

You shrug and take your cup, knowing well what effect your next words will have on him: “I told him even if I was down spending the with him he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

He just loves how sassy and mature you got and how well you handle difficult situations.

-> Subin. For Subin it would take a while to notice his feelings for you because it is very subtle and simple. Both of you didn’t enter college so long ago and even though you weren’t freshmen or sophomores anymore college still was confusing. At least for him. He likes his major and the field of study he is in but he can’t say the same about his class mates. To be quite frankly: He gets along with them well for the time being but they aren’t his friends. In fact he doesn’t have that many friends in the first place. At the end of the day he would always rely on you for sensible topics or when he needs advice. He can talk to comfortably and even after all those years you have known each other you still get him in a way no one else does. Eventually he realises how he does not have that many friends because all he needs is right here with him. It’s you. He isn’t looking for anything in other people because he already has it.

Taglist

@jeonghanmoon @soleilsuhh @kpopsnowball @purplepsycho03 @himitsu-luna

Masterlist

42 notes · View notes