#The Gadget Flow

[arksale1]

4 ONE-MINUTE Habits That Save Me 20+ Hours a Week: Time Management For Busy People

In our busy lives, a few hours a week means time for a date or a few hours of self-love pruning in the bath, so imagine what you could do with 10, 20 or even more extra time each week. ���� Well, from reading some of the best time management books out there, these are my top 4 quick habits to efficiently manage your time, which save me hours each week 🙌 They are simple but hugely effective…

[reflections-of-mobius]

@familylightfox asked:

Often times it was four teenagers around the coffee table, but today was only one. Buddy had taken up the space to work on something with a few of his tools. Red ears flicked at approaching footsteps and he scrambled to try to hide his work before it was seen. But he’d been caught red handed and scratched at the back of his head when spying the two Mobians looking at him. Turning the project around, it looked like a picture frame. Except the image in it was of the four teens, and it moved as if a video. “D-do ya think Harmony will like it? For Yule?”

[Unprompted. | Accepting!]

Bless and Node had just been getting ready to go get a few groceries for dinner when they'd spotted the teen working, two pairs of eyebrows sliding up in curiosity. They'd grown accustomed to Buddy dropping by more and more often- but it was still a surprise to see the teen having turned the coffee table into a work space for his latest project.

"Woah...." Bless had seen a few video-frames before, but they had never been personally crafted. He watched as the image looped back, emerald hues sparkling as the four teens in the 'video' moved about. "...I think she'll love it, Buddy." He chuckled, moving close enough to offer Buddy a soft pat on the back. He had noticed one of Buddy's hands just behind the frame...and the image stopped moving as Buddy's hand pulled away. Interesting...

"Woah-!" Buddy stumbled slightly at the weight, but managed to right himself rather quickly.- He adjusted his glasses, eyes flickering towards the two mobians. He was glad the picture frame had been on the table and not in his hands.-- But his face heated up slightly at the blue one's assurance. "Y-You're sure?"

It moved Bless that the teen was thinking of his girlfriend as Yule moved closer and closer. Like others around the village, he'd become a little more secretive, these past few weeks...after all, he had his own presents to craft.

"As sure as I can be."

"Y'made it for Harmony,- and I don't think there's anyone out there she cares more about than her friends n' family....and especially you." Node hummed. It was a bit of a relief to see that Buddy was already so far along in his own project... They couldn't begin to imagine how Harmony would react, but they had faith she'd enjoy it. After all- they knew how much her team meant to her. "...I agree with Bless- I think she'll love it..." They glanced at the frame, before their eyes flashed to the red mobian. "...only one way to find out though, right?"

A moving picture of Harmony, Buddy, Tangle, and Whisper... Yeah, they were pretty sure Harmony would be happy. Regardless of it requiring actual touch or no...it was an incredibly thoughtful gift- one they had no doubt Buddy had poured a lot of hours into.

"We'll keep Harmony away from here until you're done, alright?- We got groceries to run, anyway...and I'm looking forward to seeing what happens on Yule." The hedgehog may have had a small (read: far too big) investment in Harmony and Buddy's relationship....and now, he had a little bit of gift-giving to look forward to beyond just his own...though he did enjoy seeing everyone's reactions to all their presents, he'd be keeping a slight eye on that exchange.

"Good luck, lover boy." He let go of the tall mobian teen, grinning slightly. "I'll be rootin' for ya." With that, the two adults were off- ready to stall in case they came across Harmony while out. But now, there were additional thoughts in each's head...even as they stepped away from Buddy and allowed him to return to his work on the picture frame. It nearly looked done, and Yule was still a few days away...

Getting things done ahead of schedule for the win!

Buddy was left, feeling his face heat up at the final comment that had been ringing in the air. His eyes flickered back to his picture project, adjusting his glasses one more time and taking in a slow breath. He needed to keep Harmony from finding this too soon...!

"....I hope those two kids end up workin' out...."

"If they're anything like us three, they will...don't'cha worry, Nodesy."

[prettieinpink]

BUDGETING + SAVING MONEY FOR TEENS 𐙚

For many of us, we are entering an age when we can work casual jobs such as retail or fast food. It’s not a lot of money that we receive, depending on how often you get paid, but it can go a long way in the long term. 

In this post, I’ll be discussing how to budget for your needs/wants and save money for future goals. 

CREATING GOALS, you may want to save a certain amount of money in a time frame, want to make a big purchase (like a car) or buy everything off your wishlist. It is entirely up to you what your goals are, so I can’t say too much. However, the more specific it is, the better.

HOW MUCH? Determine how much money you need to save to achieve your goal. In total, and monthly. 

There are three types of saving goals that may apply to you;

Short-term goals >1 year (outings, latest gadget, buying your cart)

Medium-term goals 1-2 years (road trips, shopping spree)

Long-term goals 2-4 years (higher education, car)

It’s very important to set a realistic time frame, as teens we don’t get paid much and we also don’t work as much. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself as well, as it takes patience and self-control to achieve these goals.

NO LOOONG-TERM GOALS! This may sound aggressive, but any money that just sits in your account for years on end is dead money. Even though the amount of money is increasing, its value is slowly decreasing. Keep your goals achievable within a time frame of less than four years. It's much more useful if this money is put into some type of investment instead. 

CREATING A BUDGET

Calculate how much money you receive every month, and how much money you spend every month. 

You have two types of expenses. Fixed and variable. Fixed are any expenses required in your day-to-day life or it’s an amount of money that doesn’t change e.g. subscriptions or transportation costs. Variable costs are expenses that may fluctuate, like food, or any other recreational activities. 

Record the average you’re spending monthly with these two categories. 

There are many ways people choose to budget, but you have to choose a system that works for you.

Work out how much money you need to save each month to achieve your goal.

However, for anyone who’s starting in budgeting, I would say to allocate your costs using a percentage system. Your percentages for each category are going to differ from mine; e.g. 60% = savings, 20% = wants, 20% needs. Make sure it reflects the end goal. 

Track your progress. This is the major part of budgeting, you want to be recording and regularly reviewing how much money you’re spending and comparing it to how much you’re earning. It allows for space to reflect on the flow of your money like if some purchases are worth it, if you’re impulsively spending, or if you’re frequently withdrawing money from your savings. 

Adjust if needed. Maybe you want to put more money in savings and less into wants, or you want to put more into wants and less into needs. 

SAVING TIPS

SAY NO! This is probably my biggest struggle at the moment, but say no to things that will cause you to go off track. Whether its outings, getting fast-food or anything similar, say no. You have to be firm with your financial boundaries, as these opportunities will always arise again. 

RESTRICT IMPULSIVE SPENDING. We all have our moments when we see a product and we instantly think ‘I’ve got to have this’. Giving in once or twice is okay, but it shouldn’t become a habit at all. Its unnecessary spending (most of the time!) and leads to buyers remorse. 

IS IT WORTH IT? Always remember to work out which products you’re getting the most value out of. 

PAYING FOR THE NAME, a lot of brands will cut down on quality to save a few dollars, so essentially the customer is only paying for the name of that brand. Just because a store is more expensive, doesn’t mean its better.

[nyctophiliq]

── # 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 jinx, caitlyn, sevika

content warnings.          18+ MDNI, sfw content, first date, just fluffy set ups ig, not proof read at all

author's note. so yes, i'm back with arcane, seems like it's on a whim but it's really just a warm up for watching the second season (I'm afraid to watching because if it finishes it's over forever) so please enjoy !!!

a first date with JINX is undoubtedly chaotic, thrilling, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. she leads you to an abandoned part of zaun, a place she calls her playground. it’s a mix of neon-lit hideouts and industrial ruins, filled with makeshift swings, graffiti-covered walls, and maybe even a distant view of the lanes glowing softly in the smoggy night.

dinner? too boring for jinx. instead, she’s lifted some snacks from the last drop—they seem edible enough, though you’re not entirely sure—and she’s clearly far more excited about testing her experimental gadgets. watching your reactions as one of her inventions sparks and whirs unexpectedly is half the fun for her. she grins with delight every time you flinch, teasing you mercilessly while reassuring you (with questionable sincerity) that it’s probably safe.

after her impromptu "show and tell with dinner," she challenges you to a shooting competition. she hands you a quirky-looking gun she had pieced together herself, its design equal parts fascinating and terrifying. "let’s see what you’ve got," she taunts, her voice dripping with playful rivalry. she’s relentless with her teasing, goading you every time you miss a shot—which, admittedly, is often—but the laughter and energy between you feel strangely genuine. beneath all her chaos and bravado, there’s a surprising amount of charm.

the night takes a quieter turn when she takes you to a swing set she’s rigged up in the middle of the ruins. here, jinx lets her guard down—just a little. she points out the graffiti sprawled across the walls, sharing the small stories behind each piece. it’s clear that beneath her explosive tendencies lies a deep love for creativity and art, even if her version of "art" tends to involve detonations. you catch glimpses of her vulnerability in these moments, and it feels like a rare privilege to see this side of her.

by the end of the date, the inevitable happens: the chaos has drawn the attention of the enforcers. as their searchlights sweep through the ruins, jinx grabs your hand, laughing as she pulls you into a rooftop escape. your heart pounds as you both leap from one building to the next, but for her, it’s all part of the fun. once you’re safely out of sight, she collapses onto the roof, laughing uncontrollably while you try to catch your breath and calm your nerves.

"that was fun!" she says between giggles, her eyes sparkling with genuine delight. then, in a rare moment of sincerity, she adds, "i actually enjoyed myself. that doesn’t happen often."

she hands you one of her gadgets as a parting gift. "here," she says, smirking. "a little souvenir. but don’t press the red button… unless you’re ready for round two."

as unpredictable as the night was, you walk away knowing you’ve just shared something unforgettable. and jinx? she’s already hoping you’ll take her up on the offer for a second date.

the date starts at one of her favorite underground bars in zaun. she shows up a little late—fashionably so, she claims—leaning against the doorway with her usual cool demeanor. but there’s something off tonight. her smirk is a little too forced, her banter just a little too sharp, like she’s trying too hard to play it cool.

she orders drinks for both of you, and as the evening goes on, the cracks in her facade start to show. her metal arm taps nervously against the bar, her laugh comes a beat too late, and when you call her out on it—gently, of course—she grumbles something about "not being used to this kind of thing." her cheeks flush, and she looks away, muttering, "don’t make it weird."

but as the drinks flow and the conversation deepens, sevika starts to relax. she opens up about the bar's history, sharing stories of the fights she’s won and the people she’s met. at one point, she even challenges you to a game of pool. “don’t think i’m gonna go easy on you just ‘cause it’s a date,” she warns, but her grin is less guarded now, more genuine.

you surprise her by holding your own in the game, and she can’t help but laugh when you almost beat her. “almost impressed,” she teases, though the way her eyes linger on you says otherwise.

as the night winds down, the bar grows quieter, and so does she. she leans back in her seat, nursing her drink, and for a moment, she looks vulnerable. “this was... nice,” she admits softly, barely audible over the hum of the jukebox. “i don’t usually do... this.”

before you can respond, she stands abruptly, her tough-girl persona snapping back into place. “come on,” she says, offering you her hand. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and this part of town isn’t safe.”

the walk back is surprisingly quiet, the tension between you mellow and warm now. when you reach your door, sevika hesitates, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “so... uh, maybe we can do this again sometime?” she asks, avoiding eye contact.

you smile, and she finally meets your gaze. there’s that nervous energy again, but this time, it’s endearing. with a rare, genuine smile, she adds, “just... don’t expect me to be less awkward.”

as she turns to leave, you call her name, and when she looks back, you kiss her—a bold move that leaves her completely stunned. for a moment, she’s frozen, but then she smirks, her confidence flickering back to life. “careful,” she says, her voice low. “i might get used to this.”

she turns away, her silhouette disappearing into the night, and you’re left standing there, heart racing, wondering if this was just the beginning of something unforgettable.

if you think with the riches CAITLYN has she would be a classic romantic, taking you out to a candlelit dinner for your first date—think again. she’s all about getting to know someone in their natural element. dying to escape the confines of her responsibilities, she’d been craving a chance to let loose and have some fun. so, she took you to the carnival she’d always missed as a child, thanks to absent parents and later, endless paperwork keeping her stuck in the office all night. (don’t worry—next time, she made good on the fancy dinner and candles.)

the day flew by faster than you expected, and you swore it didn’t feel like more than an hour together. you both indulged in fried foods and colorful beverages, laughing at how ridiculous some of the flavors were. the carousel—which caitlyn declared was childish and "not her thing"—ended up being her favorite ride, though she’d never admit it. and when it came to the target shooting games, there was no stopping her. she hit every single mark with precision, winning you so many prizes that the booth operator eventually refused to let you both continue.

the ferris wheel was the perfect end to the evening. as your shared booth reached the top, caitlyn leaned in and kissed you, the bright carnival lights reflecting in her eyes and the city sprawling beneath you.

the whole day was a whirlwind of laughter and carefree fun. by the time the sun began to set, you were both exhausted in the best way. before parting, caitlyn smiled and invited you on a second date, already making plans for what’s next.

[bad268]

Frank Told Us (Colby Brock X Pregnant! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co

Requested: Yes by @eattothebeatt and anon. I hope y'all don't mind that I combined them, they were pretty similar. (Also, since I'm ahead on requests, I'm gonna post Wednesdays and Saturdays until it's cleared <3)

Warnings: slipping in snow (idk).

Pronouns: She/her

W.C. 1263

Summary: The Conjuring House is no joke, especially when a certain ghost (Frank) ruins a surprise.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

The Conjuring House was no joke, that was a fact that Y/n knew well. After going to the Conjuring House on three separate occasions with Sam and Colby and being witness to some crazy things, she didn’t need any convincing of that.

This time was one to top the charts. Ever since Sam and Colby heard about Satori and Cody, they knew that they wanted to meet them and get their expertise on camera. So Y/n decided to go with them. However, one thing happened about a week before the flight that may have changed the trajectory of the trip.

Y/n missed her period.

She took a test and met with her gynecologist, and they both came to the same conclusion. She was pregnant. She was not super far along, a little over a month, but she was not sure if she should go on the trip. After talking it over with her gynecologist, they decided she should be fine as long as she stepped away when it got too much and did not put herself in dangerous situations. She knew that if she had told Colby that they were expecting, he would abort the whole video, and she knew she did not want to be responsible for that

So they arrived at the Conjuring House. Sam and Colby in the front and Kat and Y/n in the back. Satori and Cody said they would meet them there, so they did not worry about getting a bigger car.

“Are you guys ready for this?” Sam asked enthusiastically as he pulled into the driveway.

“Are you ready to get another attachment?” Kat snapped back jokingly, causing Sam’s jaw to drop and the rest of the car to laugh.

“No need to come for my brother like that,” Colby defended, turning back to point a finger at Kat.

“You should definitely put this at the end of the video,” Y/n added, directing everyone’s attention to the camera that was recording.

“Anyway, what’s up guys! It’s Sam and Colby,” Colby started the intro.

“Today, well, this week, we are at the Conjuring House with Kat and Y/n!” Sam continued.

“These guys get 10 million subscribers, and we get dragged into this,” Y/n laughed gesturing to Kat as they climbed out of the car, so Sam and Colby could do their intro in peace. The two walked into the house and greeted Satori and Cody. The four made small talk until Sam and Colby came into the house.

“I see you made yourself comfortable without us,” Colby teased as he sat next to Y/n on the couch and laid his arm over her shoulder. “Do we know how we're going about tonight?”

“I think we’re just letting Satori and Cody do their thing and we’ll go with the flow,” Y/n explained as she leaned into Colby’s side. “What do you guys think? It is your video.”

“I think that’s fine,” Sam said, setting up the cameras. Kat started pulling out different gadgets and placing them around the room.

“We’re ready to start whenever you guys are,” Satori offered, moving to stand up with Cody. Colby stood up as well before he turned back and held his hand out jokingly for Y/n to stand up.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” Y/n joked in a mock posh accent.

“You’re welcome, governess,” Colby joked back, causing the two to chuckle before turning serious again. “Ok, back to the task at hand-”

Hours later, Satori and Cody were still getting so much in response. It was nearing midnight at this point, and they were still nonstop. After the third hour, Y/n got a huge headache, and it did not prove to be a problem until the knocks started getting louder.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get some fresh air. My head hurts,” Y/n announced as she stood up and walked out the door, not waiting for a response. Kat immediately said she would follow Y/n and trailed behind her as they walked through the snow carefully toward the car.

“Are you okay? You’re really pale,” Kat asked as they leaned against the hood of the rental car.

“I have a huge headache, and honestly, I need to tell someone,” Y/n admitted and let out a sigh before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed excitedly, reaching out to hold Y/n’s hands. “You’re serious? Oh my god, I’m so happy for you guys! Does Colby know?”

“If I told him, he wouldn’t have let me come,” Y/n laughed as Kat pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad I finally told someone. I’ve been keeping that to myself for the last week.”

“You’re kidding!” Kat exclaimed again. She was too excited because when she jumped away from the car, she pulled Y/n with her and they both lost their footing. “Woah!”

“Ouch! Kat!" Y/n laughed as she landed on her back in the snow with Kat leaning over her. They were laughing like maniacs despite knowing that one or both of them could have been seriously injured. “What the hell? You’re crazy, get off me.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Satori and Cody kept at it with Sam and Colby, teaching them along the way. The first person they connected with asked about Colby, so Satori and Cody took back over. 

“Way to go, Colby,” Sam jokingly scolded. 

“Shut up, Sam,” Colby joked back.

“You want to talk to Colby?” Satori asked as was met with a knock immediately. “Okay, what is your name?” She went through the alphabet and found the name they were spelling out. “Frank? Yes. Colby, do you know a Frank?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Colby answered, “Who are you to me?” Satori started the alphabet again and the knocks spelled out:

“Grandfather? No, Great-grandfather? Yes,” Satori interpreted. “What message do you have for Colby?” The knocks started back up and what it spelled caused a chill to run down everyone’s spines. “Protect? Protect who?...Y/n. Protect Y/n from what?”

They did not get an answer as they heard shouting from outside, causing Colby to bolt out the door immediately.

“Y/n?” He shouted, not caring that it was midnight. His ears were ringing, and his heart stopped when he saw Y/n laying in the snow. He could not breathe, and he could not register that the girls were laughing and not in danger. He slid down to be down by Y/n’s head as he held her hand. “Holy shit, are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“All good, Colby,” she laughed, pushing Kat off her as she stood up. Y/n inspected the snow around her as she felt around her stomach,  “I don’t see any blood and I don’t feel any pain, so I think we’re both good.”

“Yeah, you and Kat look fine to me,” Colby sighed as he took Y/n into his arms.

“No, not Kat, no offense,” Y/n retorted before looking up at Colby as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She whispered, “Me and the baby.”

“Baby? Whose baby? My baby? Our baby?” He asked so quickly Y/n could not keep up with him as he held her at arm’s length before cheering loudly when she nodded her head. He ran back to the house to tell Sam only to find Sam, Satori, and Cody standing at the doorway. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah, Frank just told us.”

~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[beepboopappreciation]

I always see people talk about how cool becoming a cyborg would be, replacing parts of our flesh with metal and pistons and cool gadgets.

Why don't we talk more about the horror that is the opposite of that?

A computer who grafts lab-grown skin in patches onto their own form to feel. To experience a gentle and cool breeze passing by, or the oppressive sweat-inducing heat that their systems produce.

A robot with an organic eye to help them see as their creators once did. Imperfect, sure. But it seems to have quite an uneasy effect on organics, and doesn't that make it more than worth it?

A machine with blood coursing through its systems, flowing through the central chambers, in and out of its beating heart. Perhaps if the heart holds up, it could add lungs to help circulation.

A being that resembles a man at a distance, but upon closer inspection it is clear that he is instead a cacophony of skin, mismatched body parts and features, with just a few robotic limbs and mechanical parts visible. It smiles at you, the wide grin revealing that none of its teeth match.

He lurches toward you, hair from at least three different scalps falling carefree in front of its shoulders. You take a step back.

Where is the line drawn between cyborg and robot with human parts? Do you know? Does it know? Does anyone know?

It gets closer. You continue to retreat. Your back brushes against a wall.

You don't know where that line is, you've decided, but you're positive this individual has crossed it.

Having cornered you, it reaches its mechanical hand out, fingernails grafted on the metal tips. You blink, locked completely still from fear for just a few moments. It angles his hand in invitation. He wants you to take it. You hesitantly accept.

Under the metal you can feel . . . something, flowing, pulsing just beneath the surface wanting to escape. It's warm.

"Wh.. what do you want?" You manage to sputter out.

The being shakes your hand, his smile returning. "A friend," it replies.

[trulyumai]

the lonely cabin isn’t what it seems

— Pairing: Young!Stanford Pines / Reader

—Synopsis: Lost and confused, a woman spots her lifeline; a seemingly desolate and empty cabin. She meets Ford, pleads for his help and shelter only to find things aren’t as they seem. As the scientist starts to fall deeper and deeper for the woman, he realizes they aren’t alone. He’s watching.

Warnings: none so far!

A/N: I finally got to watch Gravity falls and noticed this was a requested character, enjoy this new series!

Part One: The Unexpected Guest

Stanford Pines had always loved the isolation of his cabin, surrounded by nature’s beauty. But tonight, as the wind howled outside, he found himself feeling a strange pang of loneliness.

He was deep in thought, hunched over his cluttered workbench, examining an intricate device he had been tinkering with for weeks. The cabin was filled with books, gadgets, and the faint smell of pine. Stanford often lost track of time here, but tonight felt different; he could sense a storm brewing outside.

Just as he was about to put his tools down for the evening, a loud knock echoed through the stillness. Startled, he pushed away from his workbench, his heart racing. Who would be out here in this weather?

He opened the door cautiously, revealing a figure shivering on his doorstep. She was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face, and her eyes wide with fear.

“Uh, can I help you?” Ford asked, his voice a mix of surprise and caution.

“Please, I’m lost,” she said, her voice trembling. “I saw your cabin from the trail, and I just need somewhere to stay until the storm passes.”

Ford hesitated. He was used to solitude, preferring the company of books and experiments over people. “I don’t usually take in strangers,” he replied, trying to keep his tone firm.

The woman looked up at him, and he caught her gaze. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that tugged at something inside him. She was cute, even with her disheveled appearance, and the thought of turning her away made his heart ache.

“Please,” she whispered, shivering violently. “I’ll just stay for a little while. I promise I won’t be any trouble.”

With a heavy sigh, Ford stepped aside. “Fine. Come in.”

As she entered, he noticed her apprehensive demeanor. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to regain warmth. Ford quickly closed the door behind her, the howling wind now a muffled roar.

“you can um, sit by the fire,” he said, gesturing toward the small hearth where flames flickered, casting a warm glow across the room. “I’ll get you a towel.”

While he rummaged through a closet, he could feel her gaze following him. He handed her the towel, avoiding her eyes. “You should dry off.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, smiling as she took the towel. There was something endearing about her shy demeanor, and it made him feel a little flustered.

After a few minutes, the two settled into an awkward silence, the only sound being the crackling fire. Ford couldn’t help but steal glances at her. She was smaller than him, with a kind face, and he noticed the way her eyes sparkled when she looked around the room, taking in his chaotic yet fascinating workspace.

“What do you do here?” she asked, breaking the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m a scientist,” he replied, his voice a bit more relaxed. “Researching the anomalies in this area.”

“Anomalies?” Her interest piqued, and he felt a rush of excitement.

“Yeah, strange occurrences, supernatural phenomena,” he said, the words flowing more easily now. “You’d be surprised what’s out there in these woods.”

Her eyes lit up, and he could see her mind racing. “Like what?”

He leaned back in his chair, his passion igniting. “Well, there’s a portal to another dimension not far from here. I’ve seen creatures that defy the laws of physics. It’s fascinating.”

“Really?” she whispered, captivated. “You must have so many incredible stories.”

He chuckled, surprised by her enthusiasm. “You could say that. Most people don’t believe me, though.”

“Why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Ford shrugged, feeling a mix of pride and frustration. “People tend to fear what they don’t understand. It’s easier to dismiss it as nonsense.”

“I think it’s amazing,” she said earnestly. “You’re like a real-life scientist. It’s inspiring.”

Her compliment caught him off guard, and he felt a warmth rising to his cheeks. “It’s nothing special,” he mumbled, looking away.

The storm raged outside, but inside, the atmosphere shifted. They began to exchange stories—she shared tales of her life, her shy nature making her adventures sound all the more charming. Ford found himself laughing more than he had in a long time.

As the hours passed, Ford felt a connection growing between them, an unspoken bond. The way she listened, her wide eyes fixed on him as he spoke, made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Why do you live out here all alone?” she asked, her tone softening.

“It’s… complicated,” he replied, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. “I needed a place to think, away from the chaos of the world.”

“You don’t have to be alone, you know,” she said gently. “I’m sure there are people who would love to be around you.”

Ford looked at her, taken aback by her sincerity. “I appreciate that, but people can be difficult. I’m not exactly the most social person.”

“But you’re so interesting,” she insisted. “You have all these incredible ideas and stories. I want to hear more.”

He chuckled nervously, feeling his heart race. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. “I mean it.”

In that moment, he realized how much he had come to appreciate her presence. She had a way of making him feel alive, as if the walls he had built around himself were slowly crumbling.

As the fire crackled and the storm raged outside, Ford found himself wanting to share more of himself with her, to let her in. It felt terrifying yet exhilarating.

“Can I show you something?” he asked suddenly, his heart pounding.

“Sure!” she replied, her excitement palpable.

He led her to his workshop, a room filled with strange inventions and diagrams scattered across the walls. “This is where I do most of my work,” he said, feeling a mix of pride and anxiety.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. “This is incredible!”

Ford couldn’t help but smile as she inspected his gadgets. “I’ve been working on a new device that could help understand the anomalies better,” he said, gesturing to a complex machine. “It’s still a work in progress, though.”

She leaned closer, studying the intricate details. “It’s so fascinating how your mind works,” she said, glancing up at him with admiration. “I can’t believe you built all of this.”

Her words sent a thrill through him. “Thank you,” he said, feeling a warmth in his chest. “I’ve always loved solving problems, figuring things out.”

“I can see that,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re like a genius.”

Ford laughed, but he felt a blush creeping up his neck. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“But you are,” she insisted, her eyes sincere. “You have this passion that’s just… captivating.”

He felt a rush of warmth at her words, his heart racing as their gazes locked. The air between them thickened with an unspoken tension, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she felt it too.

“Um, I—” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Before he could continue, she reached out and touched his arm gently, grounding him. “Thank you for taking me in… I know how bothersome it might be but I really appreciate it.” She smiled, light and honest.

The sincerity in her voice struck him deeply. He could feel the walls he had built around his heart starting to crumble. “It’s nothing,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the storm howled outside, the warmth of the cabin enveloped them, and in that moment, Stanford Pines realized that perhaps shelter wasn’t just about finding refuge from the storm; it was about letting someone in.

And as they stood there, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the brilliance of each other’s presence, he felt the unmistakable spark of something new beginning to bloom between them—a connection that promised to change his world forever.

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Nightwing why are you warring a cape? Well for the baby of course! Dcxdp

This takes place in the same universe as my fic Mother of the storm and her star child.

A few years have passed and Danny is completely settled in and moved to bulhaven with dick. Eventually around the time he’s Turing 9 he insists that he wants to go out at night with dick. Dick is hesitant but Danny insist, pointing out how his abilities would make him the perfect recon detective. Dick can no longer argue when Danny beats both Damian and Cass the first day of training and he is out out in the field.

Danny hose out in his ghost form and picks the name phantom because it feels right and now nightwing patrols with a bird if his very own for the first time in a while. Danny is very good on patrols, he sticks close to dick often clinging to him and hiding behind him when dick is interacting with people. He’ll often turn invisible but it still doesn’t fell like enough to dick. He quickly released that he missed the cape and the layer of securing it added when Damien was his Robin.

So nightwing starts wearing a cape, and the people of his city starts coming up with all sorts of theories for the sudden change. The range from him practicing because he’s taking over the cowl to him hiding new gadgets. Very few have seen Danny and those who have are often not believed because, “nightwing had glowing eyes under his cape!” Is not very believable.

He doesn’t wear the cape all the time just when he has Danny, the cape is long the outside is black but the inside has a blue and black feather design so it looks like wings when he glides. It has a feature where it retracts in to a role on his back when he need more freedom of movement. And I’m addition to the cape he now has an extra loop hanging form his belt for Danny to grab on to as the hop rooftops. (Danny can will him self to weigh nothing so dick tends to pull him along as he floats any way)

As the news of dicks sudden costume adjustment is circulating he has to come to the watchtower with B for a mission. Danny tags along hiding in his cape like all the Robin had before him with Bruce. Meanwhile Bruce is totally not going all mushy over his grandson he is totally normal about this. All of the Leagers keep giving dick looks.

Until flash finally ask

Wally: so um nightwing what’s with the cape? I thought you hated them?

Dick*with a bright smile across his face*: it’s for my shadow!

Wally: your shadow? How is a cape ganna hide your shadow.

Dick: no not my actual shadow it’s to hide my bird.

Diana: your bird?

*Dick flares one side of the cape revealing the feathered pattern underneath but nothing else is visible hidden under the cape*

Wally: I don’t se-

Dick: whistles like a bird call

Danny slowly fading in to view giving the league a small wave as he scrambles to hide behind dicks legs: Hello

Hal: really Bruce another one!?

Dick Smiling at the small boy in his cape before closing it : nope this one’s all mine!

Meanwhile John Constantine who is present for this mission is freaked the fuck out. Because that kid with the flowing white hair and glowing freckles is definitely not human. And worse than that from what he can sense it’s pretty darn powerful to. He watches as all of his coworkers are working to get the boy out from hiding cooing over him.

Clark: he’s looking a lot better nightwing

Wally: Waite you already new about him?

Clark: yes the boy is nightwings child I’m guessing he only is just now joining the team

Diana: what’s your name little one?

Danny poking his head out of the cape: phantom my name is phantom

Fuck why was that name familiar? Oh shit that’s right John had heard rumors of the new ghost king and a prince milling around the infinite realms this must be the little ghost prince. How the fuck did dick end up with him? Waite sups said that was dicks kid, hold did dick?

John: ha Oh my god! You crazy fucker you fucked the ghosts king!

[admirationandromantics]

Halloween Party

Yes, this is a Josh x reader bit where Josh is dressed as a pharaoh (please imagine Rami Malek in NATM), because that's the outfit I went with. This also takes place in an au where the lodge drama never happened, so don't worry about that. Reminding everyone that my blog is 18+ and so is this post.

This was made possible by a request I got, so thank you so much and please don't stop sending in requests.

Word count: 3,3 k (unedited!)

“Sit still!” Ashley scolds as she draws my eyeliner. 

“Sorry!” I apologise, trying my best to hold my breath. Normally, I can do my own, but for tonight’s halloween party I needed a few extra details. I was dressed as no other person than Cleopatra herself. I thought about getting a wig, but Jess found some beautiful golden pearls to put in my hair instead. I loved them, feeling like royalty. I was adorned with gold, my head, hair, neck, arms and hands. A white loose dress was draped around me, leaving the midst open, so it looked like a two-piece. I loved it, even though I personally didn’t look like her, you could not mistake me for anyone else. 

“Aaaand there!” Ashley exclaims, pulling away and giving me time to breathe. She was dressed as Elizabeth Bennet. It may be hard to see if one hasn't read the book or seen any of the films, but she had put her hair up and covered it in white pearls. She was wearing a beautiful dress, though it only went a little below her thighs and not completely down. She was beautiful. I knew she’d planned on this for a long time, so I made some calls to Josh, forcing him to make Chris watch the movie. He didn’t even need to put the idea in his hand. Chris saw himself in the character, loving him and the simplicity of the costume. Yes, this was a set-up, and we made it happen. Maybe the love birds would finally take the hint and get down to business. We can only hope. 

I get up, looking at myself in the mirror. I was afraid that I would not look like myself, but that didn’t happen. I still look like me, as well as the queen. 

We make our way over to the Washington house, and it feels bigger than ever, even when it is filled to the brim with people. Ashley grabs my hand, leading me inside. We press past people, occasionally giving them a small ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. Ashley knows where to go, and she’s quick to get me into the kitchen. We both make eye contact with Sam, who’s sitting on the counter, talking to a dashing-looking Chris. Ashley stops in her tracks, but I force her with me despite her protests. Luckily, she stops trashing as we get closer, probably to avoid a scene. 

“Hey guys!” I greet, finally getting up beside them. 

“Hey-” Chris starts, and his eyes flow to Ash, looking her up and down. They stand there for a while, gawking at each other, both of their faces blushed and bothered. I sit beside Sam, enjoying the show as they start asking questions. I turn to her, trying to figure out her costume. 

She’s wearing a completely black outfit, a gadget belt and beside her is a mask. She must be a spy of some sort. 

“Don’t you look pretty” she compliments, and I smile. 

“You’re quite spyci yourself” I give back, hoping she got the joke. She did, and starts laughing, hitting my arm and leaning down to the drinks. 

“Good one, want anything to drink?” 

“Please” I urge, looking around for anything. She mixes some different things, eventually handing me a red cup. I take a sip, grimaging of the strong content. 

“What is this?”

“Everything”

“You gave me everything?”

“You can’t throw it out, drink it quickly so you can’t taste it” she challenges, and I take it. I put the cup back up to my lips, taking a deep breath to get ready, before chugging it all down. The taste is awful, but the aftertaste is worse, and she quickly hands me a glass of water to get it all down. 

“I’m never taking a drink from you again” I comment. 

“Oh please, of course you’re gonna”

I look at her and she’s trying to hold in her laughter. Ashley and Chris are finally done with their talking, and walk over to us. 

“I was about to say-” Chris starts, and I hold my breath. Please don’t figure out the plan. 

“Are you coupling with Josh tonight?”

I look at him, confused. I hadn’t seen Josh tonight. Yet. 

“No? What, is he also Cleopatra or something?”

“Well no”

“Is he Caesar?” I ask, still confused. 

“Um, no”

“Then I think we’re not matching” 

“If you say so” he ends, putting his cup up to his face. I see a little smile on the edge of his lips, and when I look at Ashley, she puts her hand in front of her mouth, as if hiding something. Sam looks around, and hits my arm. 

“Well, I at least see one Greek over there” she points, and I follow her gaze. I see a guy, wearing something white with a belt and a gold olive-branch crown. He looked like one of those ancient Greek gods. And he looked really good, arms complimenting his costume perfectly. He was standing with Mike and Emily, who was wearing a couples costume. Batman and Batwoman. Fits them both quite well. 

“Hey!” Josh’s voice sounds, and I hear small snickers coming from Chris and Ashley. Sam puts her hand over her mouth, turning away so I can’t see her face. I look over, seeing Josh wearing a gorgeous pharaoh costume. He has a shoulder cape, large golden headwear and jewels. His stomach is exposed, and I can’t stop myself from looking at it, seeing the curves of what seems like vague, hidden muscles. 

He stops in his tracks, looking me up and down and pointing. 

“Copycat” he accuses in a funny tone, and I roll my eyes. 

“Are you Cleopatra?” I ask teasingly. 

“No, but… wait” he starts, his eyes glued to the gold pearls fastened in my loose hair. He turn over to Chris, pointing directly at him. 

“You planned this!” 

My eyes widen, and I look over at the culprit. 

“Hey, you can’t accuse us when you did the same!” Chris shouts back. Sam almost falls over from laughing. 

“You guys planned this?” I ask, wondering how the hell they managed that. 

“But this was my idea” both Josh and I say in unison, and we both look at each other. Everytime I look at him, my eyes wander to his neck, his exposed skin, and I can’t stop staring. Ashley is quick to answer our statement. 

“Remember that documentary I got you to watch some time ago? Well, Chris also showed Josh a movie… One thing led to another…” she trails off, and I manage to break out of my trance. 

“And your reasoning?” I continue. Sam’s still laughing, hanging onto me for dear life and drying away a tear. 

“Maybe we wanted you two to connect a little” Chris says, still proud of their accomplishment. I look over at Josh, who rolls his eyes at him. I get a slight pain in my chest. Hurt? Maybe. I’ve liked Josh for quite some time, and we’re friends, flirting friends, but he never takes the step it needs. I try to put all the signs out, and I know almost everybody knows at this point, but he still doesn’t do anything. I can’t imagine him wanting anything, as he’s never made moves other than his continuous normal flirting. Ashley has told me that he flirts differently with me, as if there’s something behind it, but I’ve never noticed. 

“Well” I start, getting off the counter. “I guess you failed” 

They all stop in their tracks, Josh looking at me surprisingly. 

“I see a Greek god over there who would probably be delighted by my presence, so I’ll bid you farewell” I point at the guy, who’s still making small talk with the others. I start walking, but Josh is quick to pull my arm, leading me a little away from the others. 

“Hey, you know, it’s just fun. Especially when you look like that” he says, whispering close to my face in quite a seductive tone. The previous alcohol is starting to make its way to my head, and I feel my cheeks redden from the closeness. Still, I feel mad. Why would they do this when he’s never made anything clear for me. For him, this is just fun, a fun coincidence and a chance to tease me, but for me, it’s humiliating. As if I’m about to show how desperate I am for him. 

“No it’s not, you’ve made it clear where you stand when it comes to me, and I’ve made my bed with it” I snap back, surprised by my own tone. His emotions switch, a mix of confusion and then, realisation. He gets it, that it’s not fun to joke about my feelings when I feel this way about him. 

“Okay, listen, this is not about that” he starts, but I put up my finger, stopping him. 

“Josh, I’m getting over you, and we can go back to normal after that, but don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be”

“No, no, no, I need you to listen to me” he says, but I get out of his grip, walking over to the guy. 

I touch his shoulder, making him turn around. The others notice, and Mike makes a whistling sound. 

“Well, hello there” I start, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He’s quite tall, and his bushy brown hair matches the gold on his head completely. He looks me up and down, staring a bit before answering. 

“Well, if it isn’t the queen herself” he murmurs in a slightly suggestive tone. 

It doesn’t take long for us to make conversation. He’s in some of Mike’s classes, and usually hang out and study together. I expected him to be kind of playboy-ish, because of his friend group, but seemed genuine and kind. I was actually kind of smitten, and it felt good to be enhanced with someone who seemed to have a genuine interest in me as well. 

The whole night we talked, danced and drank, sharing stories and talking about ourselves. As for now, we’re sitting on the sofa, his arm laid out on the cushion behind me. I turn a little, seeing Sam smiling at me, and Chris and Ashley in deep conversation. Beside them is known pharaoh leaning against the wall, cup to his face, staring intently. My cheeks automatically flush a little, and I turn back to the god beside me. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, and I’m a little shocked by his suddenness. I smile. 

“We can go to a place which is a little more secluded” I try, giving him a teasing tone. His face lights up, and I feel something flutter in my chest. Butterflies. I take his hand, leading him through the crowd of people and up some stairs. The hallway here is empty, and he doesn’t waste time, pushing me against the wall and kissing me. I return it, but the butterflies don't grow. I feel content at best, a little excited, but not much. The sound of footsteps make both of us turn, his hands moving away from my body. Beside us stands Josh, a concerned look on his face. 

“Something has happened with Ashley, I’ll tell you everything, but you need to come with me” he says in a serious tone. My heart immediately falls, and I get scared. The guy comes forwards, whispering in my ear. 

“I’ll let you two talk, just ask Mike for my number” and he walks down again, giving a slight nod to Josh when passing. It doesn’t seem like Ashley to do something stupid, but I still take both of Josh’s hands in mine, urging him to tell me more. 

“Come on” he says, going further into the hallway, locking up the door which seems to be his room. 

“But, what about Ashley, what happened? Josh, tell me” I urge, the sinking feeling growing larger. He takes my hand, dragging me into the room, closing the door behind us. 

“You happened” he whispers, before slamming me against the door with brute force. Harder and quicker than the other guy. He goes on top of me, pins me with my hands over my head. Capturing my lips on his, he eats me up. It’s passionate, hard. My pulse shoots through the roof, and I can feel his rapid heartbeat on my chest. 

I push him off me, harshly. 

“Josh, what the hell?” I ask, body still hot and aching for his touch. 

“Ashley is okay” he answers, though not really an answer. 

“I think I got it” I snap back, like it wasn’t fucking obvious from what just happened. I continue, not bothering to wait for his explanation. 

“You flirt with me, all the time, I give you all the hints, everything. Even our friends contribute, which, for me, is fucking humiliating because you don’t do shit!” I scold. The building tension in my body finally giving out. My breath is out of order, but I can’t regulate it at this time, emotions coming over me. 

“Then, when I finally decide to move on, to take a step away, you barge in, giving me some fake excuse and take me into your room and…” I don’t know how to continue. I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted him, but not like this. I want something real, not just some jealousy-fuck which will make him feel better about himself, encouraging his complexity. 

“I don’t want this” I blurt out, but he’s still silent, standing away from me. 

“I’ve always wanted something real, a connection and a relationship. I’m not interested in a one-time-fuck with you because of your insecurity issues” I continue, feeling some type of relief wash over me. He looks in my eyes with an expression I can't decipher. Longing? Regret? Anxiety? I take hold of the door handle, making my way out when I feel his hand on my wrist. 

“Will you finally let me talk before you barge out?” he asks, a vulnerable tone to his normally flirty and funny voice. My heart breaks a little for how out of character he makes himself. I turn back to him, sitting down on his bed. He sits down beside me, not bothering to look me in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry” he starts, taking my hand in his yet again, rubbing small circles over my knuckles. 

“I’ve been scared, you know, from all of this. Walking around the bush, never actually doing anything. I thought it would just happen naturally at some point”

“It rarely does-” I try, but he stops me. 

“And seeing you finally pull out it, the situation I mean, just made me realise that we can’t keep going like this, and if I truly want something to happen, I have to take the step” 

I look down, suddenly aware that our knees are touching. 

“I don’t want to be just another fuck for you Josh”

“You could never be that” 

I look up, seeing his eyes are already on me. He made the move before, maybe it’s my time now. I lean towards him, hand cupping his cheek and kiss him. It’s light, careful, and not at all rough. He deepens it, taking my hand from his face and around his neck. He takes hold of my thighs, getting me on top of him. Both of my hands start wandering through his hair, and one his arms goes to the back of my head, pulling me in tighter. I take off his crown, surprised by the weight of it and carefully put it on the nightstand. His hands wander to my exposed waist, fingers seeping under the fabric. 

Though our breathing is heavy, it’s still safe, comforting. I manage to completely relax in his arms, thriving from his touch. He moves his lips, kissing down my jaw and on my neck. I let out involuntary sweet sighs, and can feel him smirk against my skin. He starts biting and sucking, making me moan. There’ll definitely be dark marks on me tomorrow. I feel his bulge growing underneath me, and if as on command, I start grinding on him. He loses his rhythm, interrupting his assault on my neck with whines and groans. I take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, using my fingers to untie the cape, letting it fall off his shoulders. His upper body is stunning, and I stroke my fingers over every part of him, making him whimper. I try to memorise everything, his neck with my lips and his chest and shoulders with my arms. 

“Fuck, at this pace-” he starts, but is interrupted by a moan as I cup his bulge. 

He immediately grabs hand, pulling himself off my face and staring into my eyes. There’s something dark and sinister in them, and I feel myself get wetter from just the look. He turns us around, my back hitting the mattress harshly, losing my breath. He goes over me, kissing my neck and collar while untying my dress, leaving it on the floor. The only things left are my underwear, a matching set of white cotton lace to match the costume. His eyes fill with awe as he drags his hands over, fingers glazing the edge of the cotton. 

“Fucking hell” he whispers, hands going to my back and unclasping my bra. He immediately goes for the kill, leaning over me, pressing, grinding, holding and squeezing. A gasp escapes my lips to begin with, but it is soon followed by sounds I can’t control as his knee rubs my clit. 

“Josh I-” I begin, my warmth building up, getting all flustered and hot. 

“God, you’re beautiful” he whispers, leaving sweet kisses on my neck. He stands up, and the sudden lack of his warmth gets to me. I sit up on the bed, watching as he painfully slowly takes off his garments. It falls to his feet, leaving a sight of his bare naked body. I bite my bottom lip, seeing how huge he is. 

“You’re not wearing underwear” I say, a bit shocked and surprised. 

“Gotta stay true to the character, no?” he teases, leaning over me once again. His lips find mine as his cock rubs gently over my folds, coating itself in my spilled juices. 

“Do you want this?” he whispers against my ear, his hot breath going down my neck. 

“Yes Josh” 

“Tell me how much you want it”

“Please, I need you” 

I feel him push himself into me, filling me up and exhaling. 

“I love it when you beg for me” 

His praise goes straight to the core, and I moan out as he starts moving inside me. He leans on his arms, one going down to rub my clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure. He uses the opportunity to attack my neck, leaving bites and marks down to my chest. 

His pace quickens, and the sounds he makes turns me more and more on. I wouldn’t be surprised it was all sloppy and dripping right now. The knot in my stomach tightens, and I give a cry as pleasure washes over me. He keeps pumping, riding me through the orgasm before finally coming himself. He buries himself deep inside with a last thrust, and I feel him twitch and coat me. He falls down beside me, body sweaty and exhausted. I lean over, kissing him on his lips, and he returns it, draping his arm around me. I pull the covers over us, the coldness of the room finally reaching my sweaty skin. 

“You’re breathtaking” I whisper, and he laughs, pulling me closer in his embrace. 

“And you’re gorgeous” he says, drawing small patterns on my stomach with his fingers. I can still hear the loudness of the music and people’s voices from downstairs. 

“Should we go back down?”

“No, stay here” he pleads, holding me harder, scared that I’m gonna go. 

“Okay” I whisper back, leaning fully into him, and slowly falling asleep.

[dayabelle]

December

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader

Part 2!

Part 1, Part 3 soon

This one's a bit shorter then my other works but it won't always be this short

---

December 2nd,

The morning light filtered through the frosty windowpanes of Y/n’s workshop, casting a soft glow over her workbench. She stirred a fresh cup of coffee, the warm aroma filling the air and mingling with the ever-present metallic scent of her tools and gadgets. It was quiet now, save for the occasional crunch of footsteps on the snowy street outside. She loved these calm moments before her day picked up speed.

With her mug in hand, Y/n walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside her bench. It was filled with pinned blueprints, notes, and checklists. At the top of her list for the day was finishing some sketches for shock-absorbent gloves, an idea that had been rattling around in her brain for weeks.

Settling onto her stool, Y/n flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. Her pencil glided over the paper, bringing the gloves to life. She thought about the pro heroes she’d seen struggling with heavy impact injuries—how a bit of clever engineering could reduce those risks. The sketches became more detailed as she jotted down notes:

Adjustable compression settings.

Reinforced yet lightweight material.

Energy redistribution to minimize strain.

Minutes turned to hours as she lost herself in the creative process. Her coffee cooled beside her, forgotten. The quiet hum of the street outside became a comforting background melody.

But the sound of the bell above her shop’s door jolted her from her focus. She glanced up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, and saw a familiar figure wrapped in layers of winter clothing.

“Hey, Y/n!” Ochako Uraraka’s voice was bright, her cheeks pink from the cold as she stepped inside.

Y/n blinked in surprise before smiling. “Ochako! What brings you here this early? I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Ochako laughed, brushing snow off her boots and unwinding her scarf. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just thought I’d stop by—talk about some gear stuff, and, well, maybe just hang out for a bit.”

“You? Hanging out? That’s new,” Y/n teased, motioning for her to come in. “I’m guessing your schedule finally let up a little?”

Ochako shrugged, pulling off her gloves and plopping down onto a nearby stool. “Something like that. It’s December—feels like everyone’s slowing down a bit. Plus, Deku told me you’ve got a big meeting today, and I just had to come see how you’re feeling about it.”

Y/n groaned, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands clean. “Let me guess. Bakugo?”

“Ding, ding,” Ochako said, smirking. “Come on, what’s going through your head? The guy’s kind of...intense, you know.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Y/n replied, leaning against her workbench. “I mean, I’m not really worried. It’s not like I haven’t worked with stubborn heroes before. But he’s got a reputation, and I’m hoping he doesn’t live up to it.”

Ochako giggled. “Well, good luck with that. Honestly, though, you’re probably the best person to handle him. You’re like...unshakable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n said, smiling. “How about you? Anything new with your gear?”

Ochako’s face lit up as she leaned forward. “Actually, yes! I’ve been thinking about a new design for my boots—something that could give me more control when I’m floating heavier objects. You’re still the only person I trust to make it happen.”

Y/n reached for her notebook. “Alright, tell me what you’re thinking.”

The two spent the next hour brainstorming ideas, Y/n sketching as Ochako animatedly explained her vision. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from hero gear to casual gossip. Ochako filled Y/n in on funny stories from her hero work, tales of Deku’s overworking tendencies, and updates on Eri’s progress.

“Deku’s been running himself ragged,” Ochako said, shaking her head. “I swear, he doesn’t know the meaning of taking a break. But, honestly? I think he’s really excited about you meeting Bakugo today. He thinks it’s going to work out great.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. He’s been hyping it up all week.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ochako said with a grin. “I mean, if anyone can get Bakugo to chill for five minutes, it’s probably you.”

"Bakugo Katsuki," she muttered to herself, placing a few prototype sketches into a drawer. She couldn’t help but wonder how today would go. Izuku had said he was intense—and that was putting it lightly. From what she’d seen on TV, Bakugo was all bark and plenty of bite.

Her gaze drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. It was only 9:00 a.m., but she knew better than to waste any time. Kirishima would likely arrive on time, cheerful and eager, but Bakugo? She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Y/n tied her hair back into a practical ponytail, pushing aside a few stray strands from her face as she surveyed the area. Red Riot’s completed gear sat neatly on the workbench, polished and ready for pickup, but she’d made sure to clear enough space for the two new arrivals.

Y/n leaned over her notebook, pencil tapping against her lip as she processed Ochako’s description of the boots. The shop was warm and cozy, filled with the faint scent of melted wax from the candles she’d lit earlier. The soft glow from the lights strung around the shop framed the room in hues of gold and green. On the workbench beside her were scattered screws, bolts, and bits of leftover red material from Red Riot’s gear.

Outside, the muffled sound of laughter and caroling drifted in from the street. Y/n glanced briefly toward the frosted window, catching the sight of bundled-up children tugging sleds and shopkeepers arranging garlands on their doors. It was a peaceful scene, contrasting the chaos she usually worked in during December.

Ochako shifted in her chair, her finger tracing over one of Y/n’s sketches. “I love how you add so much detail to everything. Like this,” she said, pointing to a design for a stabilizing mechanism. “It’s stuff no one else would think of, but it always makes the gear feel...I don’t know, personal.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “That’s kind of the goal. Hero work is personal. Everyone fights differently, so their gear should match. Plus, I guess I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

“A bit?” Ochako teased, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n chuckled, tossing her pencil onto the bench. “Alright, maybe more than a bit. But it’s worth it when the heroes tell me the difference it makes. That’s what I care about.”

Her gaze drifted to the shelf above her workbench, where a collection of thank-you notes and small trinkets from various heroes were displayed. Among them was a tiny, hand-carved figure of a bear from Eri, a framed sketch of her first design from Deku, and a polished silver medal from Red Riot for her work on his early gear.

Ochako followed her gaze and smiled. “You know, if you ever decided to take a break from the workshop, you’d probably be swarmed with invitations to dinner from all your clients. They love you.”

Y/n snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Dinner sounds nice, but you know me. I’d probably end up sketching designs on the tablecloth instead of eating.”

The two laughed, and Y/n reached for her coffee mug, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. She set it aside and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Her thoughts wandered to the afternoon ahead.

“I can’t believe I let Deku talk me into meeting Bakugo,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not that I’m nervous or anything—it’s just...he’s a lot.”

Ochako tilted her head, studying Y/n. “You’re overthinking it. Just treat him like any other client. If he gets out of line, well, you’re Y/n L/n. You can handle him.”

Y/n sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s hard to ignore the whole ‘walking explosion’ thing. Deku talks about him like he’s a bomb waiting to go off.”

Ochako laughed. “That’s not far off. But he’s got a good side too. You’ll see. Just...maybe keep anything flammable out of reach.”

Y/n smirked and shook her head, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11:00 a.m., which meant she had about an hour before Bakugo and Red Riot arrived.

Ochako must have noticed her glance because she stood, pulling on her gloves. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. But you’ll have to tell me everything later. I want details about this meeting.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned. “Sure, sure. Just don’t expect anything dramatic.”

As Ochako wrapped her scarf around her neck, Y/n walked her to the door. The bell jingled as Ochako stepped outside into the snow-covered street. She turned back, giving Y/n a quick wave before disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Y/n lingered by the door for a moment, watching as the world outside came alive with the vibrant energy of the season. She could hear the faint strains of a holiday tune playing from a nearby speaker, blending with the chatter of people exchanging greetings and the clatter of footsteps on icy cobblestones.

Her thoughts returned to Bakugo. Despite Ochako’s reassurances, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of apprehension. She had worked with all kinds of personalities in the past, but something about this meeting felt different. Maybe it was the way Deku had insisted on it, or the fact that Bakugo had gone through multiple gear designers before coming to her.

Y/n shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside. She had work to do. Grabbing her notebook, she made her way back to the bench, tidying up the scattered tools and clearing space for the upcoming meeting. As she worked, the nervous energy slowly faded, replaced by the familiar rhythm of her routine.

As Y/n rose from her seat in the cafe, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries surrounded her. She approached the counter, handing the barista a few bills as she ordered a to-go cup of their signature roast. The barista smiled warmly, quickly preparing her drink and sliding the cup across the counter. Y/n grasped it, the warmth of the coffee seeping through the cardboard sleeve into her fingers.

Pushing open the door, the bell jingled softly, and the chill of the outside air greeted her. She adjusted her scarf, the faint aroma of cinnamon and evergreen lingering in the air. The festive decorations glinted in the morning light—the strings of red and green fairy lights twinkling above her, and wreaths adorning shop doors.

The town square sprawled out ahead of her as she walked back toward her workshop. Cobblestones dusted with snow crunched beneath her boots, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air. At the center of the square stood the massive Christmas tree, towering and majestic, its branches adorned with golden ribbons, sparkling baubles, and delicate ornaments. A small train of children circled the tree, their laughter echoing as they admired its grandeur.

Nearby, a group of carolers huddled together, their harmonious voices carrying through the square. The melodies of “Jingle Bells” floated around Y/n as she walked past, the sound blending with the jingling of bells and occasional calls from vendors selling roasted chestnuts and warm cider.

She paused for a moment by the tree, taking in the scene. The way the snow clung to the branches of the tree and rooftops reminded her why she loved this little corner of town so much. It was serene yet alive, a perfect balance that fueled her creativity.

Clutching her coffee tightly, Y/n resumed her walk. Her workshop came into view, the frosted windows glowing warmly from the light inside. She unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar space, the comforting smell of oil and metal greeting her like an old friend.

Once inside, she set her coffee on the desk and got back to work.

Back in her workshop, Y/n settled into her desk chair, pulling her laptop closer. Her coffee sat steaming beside her, untouched as she opened the secure portal provided by the Hero Commission. Only certified hero gear designers had access to these files, which included in-depth analyses of quirks, combat footage, and notes from heroes themselves about their gear. She typed in the credentials Deku had shared with her yesterday for Bakugo Katsuki’s profile and pressed enter.

The screen filled with detailed reports. Her eyes skimmed the initial overview:

Hero Name: Dynamight

Quirk: Explosion

Mechanics: Sweats a nitroglycerin-like substance from his palms, igniting it to create explosions of varying intensity.

She clicked on a section titled Combat Footage. Clips began to play, showcasing Bakugo in action. His movements were ferocious, fast, and precise, but chaotic at the same time. He used his explosions for propulsion, blasting himself across the battlefield with remarkable speed. She noticed how he used his gauntlets to channel and store excess sweat, firing concentrated blasts when needed.

“Smart,” she murmured to herself, watching as he obliterated a massive stone wall during a training session. “But there’s room for improvement.”

She paused the footage and leaned back, her mind already racing with ideas. The gauntlets he currently used were bulky and seemed to weigh him down during long battles. While their storage capacity for his sweat was impressive, they lacked flexibility. She also noticed that Bakugo occasionally flinched after firing larger blasts, likely from the force reverberating through his arms.

Opening another file, she studied the blueprints of his existing hero gear. The gauntlets were made of a reinforced alloy that could withstand high temperatures, but they didn’t seem optimized for maneuverability. Bakugo’s quirk relied heavily on his speed and agility; he needed something that complemented those traits.

Y/n began sketching on a piece of graph paper, her pencil moving swiftly across the page.

She started writing down some plans.

Improvments to old design-

Lightweight Material: Replace the alloy with a cutting-edge, heat-resistant carbon fiber. This would significantly reduce the weight without compromising durability.

Dynamic Storage Chambers: Instead of one large storage unit, she envisioned several smaller, modular chambers integrated into the gauntlets. These would allow Bakugo to regulate the release of his sweat more efficiently, offering him better control during prolonged battles.

Shock Absorption System: She planned to line the interior with a gel-based material that could absorb and distribute the impact from larger blasts, minimizing strain on his arms.

Adaptive Fit: She wanted to incorporate an adjustable mechanism that would allow the gauntlets to mold to his arms, ensuring maximum comfort and reducing unnecessary movement.

Integrated HUD: Though Bakugo didn’t seem like the type to rely on tech too much, Y/n considered adding a small, retractable heads-up display to one gauntlet. It could provide him with real-time data about the gauntlet’s sweat levels and temperature.

She returned to the combat footage, replaying a moment where Bakugo propelled himself upward, firing rapid explosions from his palms. His movement was seamless, but she noticed how his gauntlets dragged slightly when he twisted mid-air.

“He’s compensating for their weight,” she muttered. “If I can make them lighter, his precision will improve.”

The reports also detailed Bakugo’s tolerance to his own explosions. His hands could withstand immense heat, but prolonged use led to redness and swelling. Y/n jotted down a note to include a cooling mechanism in the lining—perhaps something that could release a soothing mist after heavy use.

Her thoughts turned to the design itself. She wanted the gauntlets to look intimidating, matching Bakugo’s explosive personality. She sketched a sleek, angular design with sharp edges, the carbon fiber glinting in her imagination like obsidian. She added a small insignia resembling an explosion near the wrist—subtle, but fitting.

By the time she looked up from her sketches, it had already become noon. Her coffee was cold, and her shoulders ached from leaning over her desk. But she smiled, satisfied with the rough blueprint in front of her.

"Let’s see how he likes it," she thought, rolling her neck as she glanced at the clock. She felt ready to meet Bakugo and see if her vision for his gear aligned with his. For someone as demanding as Dynamight, she knew this was just the beginning.

As she leaned back to admire her sketches, the shrill ring of her phone broke her concentration. She grabbed it off the desk, her eyes lighting up when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Kirishima.

"Hey, Red Riot," she answered, still catching her breath from her brainstorming session.

“Y/n! Hey! Sorry to bother you,” Kirishima’s cheerful voice came through, loud and bright as ever. “I just wanted to check in about the gear. Bakugo told me you’re working on some designs for him, too. We were thinking, uh—maybe we could just come by together to pick mine up and talk about his?”

Y/n smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, that works. I just finished up your gear, actually. Your timing is impeccable.”

“Sweet! I’m excited to see it,” Kirishima said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “What time works for you? I know you told me yesterday but ive been so busy”

“Noon. You guys can swing by then,” Y/n said, glancing at her sketches of Bakugo’s gauntlets. “It’ll give me time to prep for whatever nitpicky feedback Dynamight’s going to throw my way.”

Kirishima laughed. “Yeah, he’s got... opinions. But don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.”

“Thanks, Eijiro. I’ll see you both at noon, then,” she said, ending the call with a smile.

As she set her phone down, Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. Bakugo Katsuki and Eijiro Kirishima—two of Japan’s most notable heroes—were about to walk into her workshop. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness, but she was ready. Or at least, she hoped she was. She had famous heroes stop by a couple of times, but these were heroes that her friends were close to. So it felt somewhat different.

The call with Kirishima basically said "were on our way now" so she hopped up from her chair.

Y/n set her phone down and glanced around her workshop. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it certainly wasn’t in pristine condition. Scraps of metal, blueprints, and tools cluttered her workbench, and a light dusting of sawdust coated the floor near the storage shelves. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to tidy up before her guests arrived.

She began by organizing her tools, placing wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers back into their designated spots on the wall-mounted pegboard. The sound of metal clinking softly filled the room as she worked. Next, she gathered the scattered blueprints and stacked them neatly on her desk, making sure to tuck away anything unrelated to Bakugo or Kirishima’s projects.

As she worked, the faint aroma of coffee from her earlier cup lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of her workshop. She grabbed a broom from the corner and swept up the sawdust and stray screws that had somehow made their way to the floor. Despite the hustle, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting.

Y/n was used to dealing with pro heroes—her work attracted them, after all—but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was the way Midoriya had talked about Bakugo, the fiery personality he’d described in vivid detail. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d never worked with someone quite as infamous for their temper.

She finished tidying up the workbench and glanced at the clock. It was 11:50. Ten minutes. She sighed and leaned back against the counter, finally noticing her reflection in the window. Her black long-sleeve shirt, snug against her figure, and loose black sweatpants weren’t exactly what she’d consider meeting-hero clients attire.

But it was too late to change now. Besides, she figured comfort trumped style in her line of work. With that thought, she took a deep breath, grabbed the finished gear she’d prepared for Kirishima, and placed them carefully on the workbench.

The small bell above her door jingled, signaling their arrival. Y/n turned to see two towering figures entering her shop. Kirishima, his spiky red hair as vibrant as ever, stepped in first, his broad smile lighting up the room. Right behind him was Bakugo Katsuki, his ash-blond hair messy in a way that seemed deliberate, his sharp red eyes scanning the workshop.

“Yo, Y/n!” Kirishima greeted enthusiastically, brushing a few snowflakes off his jacket. “Thanks for letting us come by together.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, stayed silent, his gaze shifting around the room. His eyes lingered on the intricate tools and designs scattered about, and he crossed his arms as if he were already evaluating the place.

“Hey, Eijiro. And… you must be Dynamight,” Y/n said, offering a polite smile. “Come on in.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo muttered, stepping further into the room. His presence was intimidating, but Y/n held her ground. She motioned for them to follow her toward the workbench, ready to dive into what she hoped would be a productive meeting.

Y/n led Kirishima and Bakugo toward her workbench, where the gloves and arm strains she’d designed for Kirishima were displayed. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the edge of the desk and handed it to Kirishima with a small smile.

“These are the details for your new gear,” she explained, pointing to the carefully organized list of features. “I focused on making them lighter without compromising their durability. I used material that will channel your speed and shock-absorbent, so they’ll hold up better during prolonged battles or harsher environments. The adjustments should also help you maintain your stamina.”

Kirishima scanned the paper with a bright grin, his red eyes lighting up as he nodded enthusiastically. “This is amazing, Y/n! You always outdo yourself.” He lifted one of the gauntlets, inspecting its craftsmanship. “The detail is insane. You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/n shrugged modestly, but the praise made her lips quirk up slightly. “I know how important durability and flexibility are for you. If there’s anything that feels off when you’re testing it out, let me know, and I’ll tweak it.”

“You got it,” Kirishima said, carefully placing the items into his gear bag. He glanced at Bakugo, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you later, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered, waving Kirishima off without looking at him. Kirishima paid in advance, he already knew you would give him the results he needed.

Kirishima laughed and shot Y/n a thumbs-up before heading for the door. The bell jingled softly as he left, leaving the shop in silence.

Y/n turned to Bakugo, brushing her hands on her sweatpants before grabbing a set of blueprints from the workbench. She held them out to him, her posture calm but her mind racing slightly as she waited to gauge his reaction.

“Here’s what I came up with,” she said. “It’s a rough idea based on the videos I watched of you in action and the research I did on your quirk and current gear. Let me know what you think.”

Bakugo took the blueprints without a word, his expression unreadable as his sharp red eyes scanned the designs. The silence stretched on, filled only by the faint hum of the workshop lights.

Y/n resisted the urge to fidget, instead leaning back slightly against the workbench, watching his reaction carefully. She had dealt with stoic heroes before, but there was something about Bakugo’s intensity that made the silence feel heavier.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You actually looked into my quirk for this?”

“Of course,” Y/n replied simply. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to create something functional. The modifications I proposed here,” she leaned forward, pointing to the blueprint, “will improve the efficiency of your gauntlets, letting you channel smaller, controlled explosions when needed without sacrificing power output for the larger ones. I also added heat dispersal channels to reduce strain during prolonged battles.”

Bakugo nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the paper. “Hatsume never put this much thought into it,” he muttered almost to himself, his tone lacking its usual edge.

Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.

“This isn’t bad,” Bakugo finally admitted, glancing up at her. “Not bad at all.” It was fucking perfect, he had to resist the urge to grin like a maniac. He would become unstoppable with this, he already had so many images in his mind of how he could use this to become better.

“High praise coming from you, Dynamight,” Y/n replied, her tone light but her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Tch. Don’t get cocky,” he grumbled, though his expression didn’t carry the usual bite. He folded the blueprint carefully and tucked it under his arm. “When do you think you can have a prototype ready?”

“Depends,” Y/n said, already mentally calculating the timeline. “If you’re serious about this, I’ll need to do some fittings and tests with you first. No point in making a prototype that doesn’t work for you.”

Bakugo nodded again, his intense gaze meeting hers. “Fine. Just don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t plan to,” she replied evenly, her eyes unwavering.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Bakugo straightened, adjusting his stance.

“Alright. When do we start?”

Y/n stood in front of Bakugo, her fingers brushing through the air as she explained the materials she would need to get started on his gauntlet prototype. She moved fluidly, her hands gesturing as she spoke, outlining the complexity of the design in a way that was second nature to her.

“Alright, first things first,” she said, her tone clear and focused. “I’ll need a specialized alloy—something lightweight but durable enough to handle the heat and shock from your explosions. That’s about $2,000 just for the raw materials. I’ll also need heat-dispersal channels to manage the thermal output from your quirk, which will run around $1,200.”

As she spoke, she walked around the workshop, gathering scattered tools and a few reference materials, as though illustrating her thoughts in the space around her. She then turned, meeting Bakugo’s gaze, and continued, “I’ll need an explosion-containment lining inside the gauntlets to handle the shockwaves. That’ll be another $1,000. Plus, there’s the electronics—the trigger mechanisms, the sensors to make sure everything is responsive and reliable, that’ll cost about $800.”

Bakugo stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp as he watched her explain, his lips twitching slightly, though he didn’t interrupt.

“I’ll also need to account for testing materials, because, you know, things don’t always work out perfectly on the first try. That’s another $500. And, of course, using CNC machines for precision cutting and the 3D printer to create components will be another $2,000.” She paused, taking a breath. “I’ll need time to do all this, so we’re looking at about $2,500 for labor and overhead costs. And since I’ll need to use some special hero commission materials, we’re looking at an additional $500 there.”

She looked at him then, raising an eyebrow, giving him a moment to absorb the numbers before adding, “So, all in all, we’re talking about $11,500 to get a full prototype ready.”

Bakugo didn’t flinch, but there was a noticeable tension in his jaw as he heard the cost. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick stack of cash, his fingers tightening around the bills. He didn’t say a word—just grunted low in his throat and handed it over to her.

Y/n took the money, not at all surprised by his blunt approach, but she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the stack in her hands. “Not a word, huh?”

Bakugo shrugged, looking away. “I’m not here to waste time. Get it done.”

She glanced down at the cash, counting it quickly, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll get started immediately. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He turned to leave, not offering much more than a sharp “Good,” as he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Y/n called out just before he reached the threshold.

He stopped, half-turning toward her with a raised eyebrow.

“If this works out the way I think it will, you won’t regret it,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Bakugo just grunted in response and left without another word, the door jingling as he exited. Y/n stood there for a moment, glancing at the cash in her hand before putting it into her desk drawer.

“Guess it’s time to get to work,” she muttered to herself, already thinking about the next steps in the process, the quiet hum of her workshop filling the space once again.

The quiet of the workshop was comforting. The hum of the machines, the occasional clink of tools, and the soft buzz of her thoughts as Y/n set to work on Bakugo's gauntlets. The pressure to deliver something extraordinary didn’t faze her. She thrived under it, and the $11,500 in her desk drawer now felt like fuel rather than a burden.

She started by laying the groundwork—the design, the blueprint she’d handed Bakugo, now spread out before her on the workbench. She had every intention of refining it, fine-tuning it as she went, but this was her starting point. The key was precision. Each detail mattered. Bakugo’s gauntlets had to reflect both the raw power of his quirk and the controlled precision he needed to prevent injury from the sheer force he wielded.

First, she focused on the gauntlet structure itself—the base. She reached for a few sheets of the alloy material, noting the color and texture as she ran her fingers across it. It was lightweight but strong, the kind of metal that would absorb the shockwave from his explosions without crumbling under pressure. As she sliced through it with a laser cutter, her mind raced ahead to the next steps. The gauntlets would need cooling channels to handle the heat from the constant explosions.

She pulled out the high-tech filaments that would make up the internal cooling systems, cutting thin strips to fit the gauntlet’s curves. There was a certain satisfaction in working with these materials—each one felt like a perfect fit, much like a puzzle that, once complete, would give Bakugo the edge he needed in battle. As she worked, she couldn’t help but think back on their first encounter. Despite his rough exterior, there was something about the way he carried himself that made her think he was capable of collaboration, not just stubbornness. It gave her a glimmer of hope that this partnership might turn out better than she originally expected.

She worked with a focused intensity, hands moving fluidly as she welded the cooling channels into place, ensuring they were secure and precise. The internal circuitry was just as important as the outer materials. She carefully designed the wiring that would run through the gauntlets, making sure the feedback sensors would respond to Bakugo’s movements, allowing for immediate adjustments. She cut out the small compartments for the sensors, ensuring they were compact enough not to add unnecessary weight but sophisticated enough to be effective.

As the hours slipped away, the rhythm of her work kept her grounded. The afternoon light outside started to fade, the snow beginning to accumulate once again on the windowsill, but inside, the workshop remained bright with overhead lights, the glowing edges of her work casting soft shadows against the walls. The smell of burning metal and fresh components filled the air, an aroma Y/n was more than familiar with, a scent that meant progress.

With each weld, each adjustment, she grew more certain this project would be one of her best yet. It was a good feeling, one that had been absent for a while. Y/n had worked with dozens of pro heroes, each with their own quirks, each with their own needs, but Bakugo’s gauntlets felt different. They felt important, like this was more than just another paycheck or another job to tick off. She could see the potential in him. The gauntlets weren’t just about power—they were about refining that power, helping Bakugo control it better. That made the task feel personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced over at the clock—almost six hours had passed since she started. She hadn’t even realized it was so late. She stopped for a moment, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of grease across her face. She didn’t mind; it was part of the process.

The prototype was beginning to take shape. The metal frame of the gauntlets had been fully assembled, the internal components locked into place. The cooling system was in the final stages, and the wiring was nearly complete. She reached for the finishing touches—smoothly applying the final protective layers and ensuring the heat dispersion technology would function at peak efficiency.

As she worked, she thought back to Bakugo. He was more than just a short-tempered, explosion-happy hero—there was something beneath all that. She hadn’t seen the worst of him yet, but she could tell he had a purpose in mind, and she had a feeling he wasn’t as difficult to work with as Deku had painted him to be.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” she whispered to herself with a small smile, placing the gauntlet down carefully and surveying her work.

It was then that she realized—she could see herself working with him again in the future. The complexity of the project was rewarding, but there was also something satisfying about bringing a design to life that was uniquely tailored to a person. She had no doubt that Bakugo would be back once this was done.

Taking a step back, Y/n let out a breath, allowing herself a moment of pause before she started to put everything away for the night. The gauntlets were almost ready for testing, and soon, she would have to hand them over. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be. Would he appreciate the care she’d taken? Would he be surprised by how much effort she’d put into understanding his needs, his quirks?

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was eager to see.

Y/n took a step back from her workbench, eyes scanning over the gauntlets one last time. The prototype was finished and ready for Bakugo’s approval. She wiped her hands on a rag, then reached for her phone on the desk. The quiet of the workshop was now only punctuated by the soft clicks of her fingers on the screen as she typed.

She could feel a certain tension as she composed the message, not because she doubted her work, but because it felt like the final step—she was finally about to send Bakugo the results of all her hard work.

Hey, Bakugo. The prototype is ready. I’ve tested the cooling system and the wiring, and it should be good to go. Come by tomorrow around noon to test it out and let me know if you need any adjustments. If you like it, we’ll talk about the next phase of the project—creating the real thing. Let me know. Y/n

She hovered her thumb over the send button for a moment before quickly tapping it.

Setting the phone down, Y/n moved to check the clock again—it was already getting late, but a feeling of accomplishment made it hard to relax. With the message sent, her mind started to wander through the possibilities of tomorrow. Bakugo’s reaction, the adjustments he might ask for, the pressure of making sure the prototype met all his expectations. She had a sense that Bakugo would be… difficult, but it was a good challenge. She knew the stakes of the job now, and it would be worth every bit of effort.

She tidied up around the workshop, organizing her tools and putting away the leftover materials. The place was filled with the faint, lingering smell of metalwork and machine oil. She had managed to create a perfect, functional prototype, but there was still more work to be done once Bakugo gave his final feedback. She hoped it would be a good test.

After everything was cleaned up, she grabbed a quick drink from the fridge and sat back down at her desk, still buzzing with excitement over the gauntlets. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

The evening passed in a warm, easy rhythm, with Eri's giggles and stories filling the shop as the two of them shared snacks and swapped small talk. The cozy hum of the heater in the corner of the shop provided a comforting background as the wind outside howled softly against the windows, and the dim glow from the overhead lights cast a gentle ambiance over the room. They spent hours talking about everything from school to the heroes Eri admired, to stories Y/n told about the latest projects she was working on. There was a sense of calm, of contentment in the air, as they sank into the moment.

After the movie ended, and Y/n made sure Eri was comfortable on the couch with a blanket, the young girl sat up suddenly, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/n..." she began, her voice tentative yet full of hope. "Can you teach me something small? I want to learn how you make all your amazing gear. I know I'm still young, but... I think it would be really cool to know even a little bit about it. Please?"

Y/n paused for a moment, surprised by the request, but there was a warmth in Eri’s face, a genuine desire to learn. She couldn’t say no. With a soft smile, Y/n nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Alright, but only something small. You're still getting the hang of all this stuff."

Eri bounced on her feet, grinning ear to ear as she followed Y/n down the stairs. The dimly lit shop seemed even more peaceful in the late hours, the lights from the upstairs hallway casting long shadows as Y/n moved toward the storage room. She reached for the doorknob, pulling open the heavy door to reveal shelves lined with tools, boxes of wires, metal pieces, and components that had been used in countless projects.

Eri stepped inside, her eyes gleaming as she looked around the room, taking in everything. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a scent Y/n had grown so familiar with over the years, but to Eri, it was like stepping into another world. Everything looked so complicated, yet so exciting.

Y/n motioned for Eri to sit down on the floor with her, and they both crossed their legs. Y/n set a small project in front of them: a simple gear mechanism that needed to be assembled. It was basic, just a few pieces to put together, but it was the perfect place to start. She handed Eri a wrench and a few screws. "Okay," she began, "this is a basic gear system. It’s what I use in some of the prototypes when I need to test how things move and interact. All you need to do is line up the gears and use the wrench to tighten them into place. It's simple but precise work."

Eri’s hands shook slightly as she took the pieces, her fingers not quite sure where to begin. Y/n smiled, her voice soft and encouraging. "It's okay, take your time. Start with this piece here," she said, pointing to the largest gear. "Line it up like this..." Y/n moved her hand gently over Eri’s, guiding her fingers into position. "Now, tighten the screws just like this."

The warmth from the lamp beside them made everything feel intimate, almost like a private moment between them, a scene pulled straight out of a quiet film. The only sound was the soft clink of metal, the faint hum of the heater, and Eri's soft breaths of concentration. Y/n sat next to her on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands resting lightly on her knees, watching Eri carefully. There was a quiet intensity to it, the girl’s determination clear in every small movement, every furrow of her brow as she tried to understand the mechanics of what she was building.

Y/n didn’t rush her, watching as Eri carefully placed the pieces together, her movements tentative at first, but growing more confident with each small success. There were moments of frustration, the pieces not fitting correctly or the gears not clicking into place, but each time Eri made a mistake, Y/n gently guided her back on track, explaining things in simple terms.

"That’s okay, just try again," Y/n said, her voice gentle, guiding her through the small mess-ups. "You’ll get it. It’s all about patience."

Eri nodded eagerly, her face flushed with the small victories. Slowly, as the pieces began to fall into place, her confidence grew, and the gears clicked together perfectly. Eri looked up at Y/n with a proud grin. "I did it! Look!" she said, holding up the small gear mechanism, now fully assembled.

Y/n smiled softly, her heart swelling with pride at how far Eri had come in just a short amount of time. "You did great," she said warmly. "Just remember, it’s all about taking your time and staying patient."

Eri’s face lit up with excitement, but she looked down at the gear she had made, her hands still trembling with the energy of the moment. "I’m going to be like you one day, Y/n. I swear."

Y/n chuckled softly, ruffling Eri’s hair affectionately. "You’re already on your way, Eri. Just keep practicing. I'll send you home with some basic stuff tomorrow. "

With the small project finished, they stood up together and began making their way back upstairs. The whole atmosphere in the shop felt like it had slowed down, as though the world outside had paused to watch them. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, talking about everything she had learned and asking more questions about gears and her future as a hero.

When they finally reached the bed, Y/n set up the blankets and pillows for a comfortable spot to settle in. Eri quickly curled up under the warm covers, her eyes growing heavy as she settled next to Y/n. They started another movie, but soon the quiet of the evening and the gentle glow of the screen lulled them both into a peaceful silence.

Y/n smiled softly as she glanced over at Eri, her heart full. This moment, this simple night, felt like a memory she would keep forever. Something that would be etched into her mind like the soft hum of gears spinning—steady, constant, and full of promise for the future. Maybe because Y/n had always wanted a daughter, even if Eri wasn't close enough to be considered one. Moments like these filled her heart.

---

The morning sun was just starting to peek through the blinds when Y/n heard the soft shuffle of Eri’s footsteps coming down the stairs. It was still early, but the excitement of a new day had already worked its way into the young girl’s energy. Y/n had already been awake, preparing a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she checked her phone.

Eri came into the kitchen, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking much more grown-up than she had when she first arrived at Y/n’s place. Her hair was neatly combed, her uniform crisp, and she had a bright, eager smile that made Y/n’s heart flutter with affection.

"Morning!" Eri chirped, the cheerfulness in her voice making the space feel warmer.

"Morning," Y/n replied, setting the mug down on the counter. She turned to look at Eri, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Ready for school?"

Eri nodded, biting her lip as she glanced around, as though trying to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. "I really appreciate you letting me stay over. It was so fun! And thank you for teaching me that stuff last night." Her voice dropped a little shyly as she thought back to their time in the workshop.

Y/n smiled softly. “Anytime, Eri. You did great last night. I’m sure you’ll be building your own stuff in no time.”

Eri beamed, her eyes sparkling. "You really think so?"

Y/n chuckled. "I know so."

Eri rushed over and gave Y/n a quick hug, surprising her for a moment. The younger girl was often reserved, but moments like this made Y/n’s heart ache with tenderness.

"Well," Eri said, pulling back and adjusting her backpack, "I’ll see you later! I’ll tell Shota you said hi!"

"Take care, and have a good day at school," Y/n called after her as Eri darted out the door, the sound of the bell ringing lightly behind her as she ran to catch up with her classmates.

Y/n watched her go for a moment before sighing contentedly, the house feeling quieter again. She loved having Eri around, but it was always bittersweet when she left for the day, like a little piece of happiness walked out with her.

With Eri now off to school, Y/n returned to the workshop, gathering her focus for the day ahead. She took a moment to mentally prepare herself for the upcoming meeting with Bakugo. It was only a few hours away, but she was ready. There was a quiet sense of satisfaction that came with seeing his prototype work so well the day before, and now it was time to fine-tune things.

She double-checked her tools, made sure the prototype gauntlets were in good condition, and organized the materials she would need to adjust the interior pressure system. She also took a few moments to tidy up the workspace—while Y/n was normally meticulous about cleanliness, the chaos that was her work sometimes bled into her space. Today, she wanted everything to be just right. The energy she’d had the day before had stayed with her as she worked, and it felt like the right moment to move forward.

As she adjusted a few parts on her workbench, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The previous day with Bakugo had gone better than expected. He was still prickly, still the same explosive person she’d heard about from Izuku, but his reaction to the prototype—his feedback—made her feel like they were building a connection. Not a personal one, but a professional one, and that was enough for now.

She was starting to see the bigger picture: her designs could impact heroes like him. And if everything went as planned, this was just the beginning of a long-term working relationship.

-

The doorbell jingled, and Y/n snapped out of her thoughts. She glanced toward the door, a moment of anticipation building in her chest. Bakugo was here.

She walked over to the door to greet him, the sound of his boots clicking on the floor growing louder as he stepped inside. He looked just as intense as he did the day before, but this time there was a calmness in his demeanor that Y/n noticed immediately. The gauntlets from the previous day were now strapped to his wrists, and he was clearly ready to see how the prototype held up in a more demanding test.

Y/n smiled, but it was a more neutral smile this time—professional, not personal. "Morning, Bakugo. Ready to test the adjustments?"

He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes scanned the workshop briefly. She saw him make a mental note of the setup, maybe trying to figure out if she had done anything else to impress him.

“Let’s get to it,” Bakugo muttered, sounding a little less gruff than usual but still direct.

Y/n nodded, gesturing to the workbench where the adjustments to the gauntlets were laid out, ready for testing. "I made some minor tweaks to the interior pressure system, like we discussed. Try them on and see how they feel."

Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment as he moved toward the bench, looking over the gauntlets with a critical eye. His fingers skimmed over the components, clearly assessing them.

"Don’t overdo it,” Y/n warned, noticing his intense scrutiny of the design. “Take it slow at first, just let me know if anything feels off.”

Bakugo huffed but didn’t argue, slipping the gauntlets back on. Y/n moved a few steps back, watching closely as he tested the movements. His first action was a simple flex of his fingers—just like the day before—but this time, Y/n could see the difference. He was more attuned to the gear, more aware of the way it responded to his quirk.

He extended his arms, testing the weight distribution. His posture was strong, his body coiled with the kind of power that came naturally to someone like him. Y/n watched for signs of discomfort—anything that could signal a flaw in the design.

"So?" she asked, her voice a little quieter now, as she waited for his verdict.

Bakugo remained silent for a moment, lost in the rhythm of his own testing. Finally, he looked up from his hands, locking eyes with Y/n.

“It’s better,” he said simply. “More flexible. I can work with this.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of relief and quiet satisfaction wash over her. “Good. There are still a couple of minor adjustments to make, but this is a solid base to build on.”

Bakugo grunted, as if admitting something he didn’t quite want to, then turned to walk out.

“Let me know when you’re ready to finalize it,” he muttered over his shoulder before the door closed behind him with a loud jingle.

Y/n stood there for a moment, her heart racing with excitement. This wasn’t just a success; it was the beginning of something.

---

December 5th,

For three days, Y/n threw herself into Bakugo’s gauntlets with a level of focus that was both intense and consuming. The clock seemed irrelevant. Hours bled together as she carefully assembled, welded, and tested each individual part. The gauntlets weren’t just about performance; they were about precision, efficiency, and fitting Bakugo’s chaotic, explosive style of combat. She hadn’t even noticed how much time passed between bathroom breaks and the occasional text from neighbors or Izuku.

She had gotten used to working long hours, skipping meals, and letting her body run on caffeine and the occasional snack that she barely tasted. Her stomach had long since become accustomed to hunger pangs, a dull throb in the background of her mind as she focused on the minute details of the gauntlets. Every screw, every part, every piece of the technology she worked on had to be perfect. Not for her own benefit, but because Bakugo deserved it, whether he realized it or not. She couldn't afford to make mistakes with someone like him.

Her shop was a chaotic but well-organized mess. Tools were scattered across the floor, some forgotten and others deliberately placed for quick access. The only light came from the overhead bulbs, which cast long, harsh shadows on the walls as the night passed. The low hum of the machines was the only sound she heard as she moved, her hands shaking slightly with exhaustion.

She had taken the occasional break to step outside, her breath fogging up in the winter air, and to receive a text or two from Izuku—always checking in, always asking if she was okay. She hadn’t wanted to admit to him how far she’d gone without eating. But Izuku was kind and persistent, and sometimes his texts felt like a lifeline amidst the whirlpool of her work.

The gauntlets were finally coming together, but Y/n couldn’t help but feel both proud and incredibly drained. Her body screamed for rest, and yet, she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

...

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gauntlets were done. She stepped back, wiping grease and oil from her face with the back of her hand, inspecting the finished product. The sleek black and orange design gleamed under the light, the inner mechanisms already adjusted for Bakugo's quirk. The gauntlets had a custom-made feedback system built into them, amplifying the force of his explosions but distributing the recoil so it wouldn’t damage his limbs.

Y/n’s eyes were blurry from lack of sleep, but her heart swelled with a quiet pride. These gauntlets weren’t just equipment; they were an extension of Bakugo’s fury and power, honed down to a level of sophistication she didn’t think anyone else could pull off. She couldn’t help but think—Bakugo was going to love these. She wasn't just assuming he would, she knew it. She had seen his face after reading her blueprint, then when he walked out with the prototype.

But even as she stood in awe of her work, she realized how long it had been since she had properly cared for herself. The lingering hunger in her stomach was becoming unbearable, and a deep fatigue was pulling at her bones. Her body was starting to remind her that she couldn’t keep going like this.

The moment she finished the gauntlets, she knew she needed a break. She couldn’t push her body any further. A long, hot shower was the only thing she craved at that moment.

She stood under the showerhead, feeling the warm water cascade over her tired skin. The hot steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as she leaned against the tiles, letting the heat melt away the tension in her muscles. Her hands moved lazily through her hair, rinsing out the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past three days of working nonstop.

The water felt like a balm to her soul, the soft spray soothing the aches in her back, her shoulders, and her legs. She stayed there for what felt like hours, the steam making her skin feel alive again. Each drop of water felt like it was washing away not just the grime but also the mental exhaustion that had been building in her mind.

Her thoughts began to wander as she relaxed, the weight of her work melting away. She thought about Bakugo—how he would react to the gauntlets, how she would handle seeing him again. It had been a professional interaction so far, but something about him kept nagging at her mind. He was abrasive, yes, but there was a part of him she couldn’t quite decipher, something raw and genuine underneath his rough exterior.

She let out a sigh as the water beat against her body. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a proper break, but her mind was running wild. She forced herself to focus, thinking about how she still had a few adjustments to make. There would always be adjustments, but for now, the gauntlets were perfect.

Eventually, after a long time, she turned off the shower, reluctantly leaving the hot water behind. As the steam dissipated, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling like a new person. But that feeling wouldn’t last long. There was still more work to be done.

Just as she was starting to dry off, her phone rang, and she saw that it was Izuku. She quickly grabbed a robe and wrapped it around herself as she picked up the call.

“Hey, Izuku,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She wasn’t sure if it was from fatigue or something else.

“Hey, Y/n,” Izuku greeted warmly. “How’s the gauntlet coming along? Bakugo’s been really eager to see them.”

“I just finished them,” she replied, a little out of breath. “They’re ready for testing. I’ll be sending him the details later.”

“Wow, that’s great! He’s been waiting for them, but you know how he is,” Izuku said, chuckling. “He’s probably pacing back and forth, eager to get his hands on them.”

You pictured a little troll with Bakugo's face on it, grimy little hands scratching his goofy head pacing back and forth and just scowling at the air.

Y/n smiled, even though Izuku couldn’t see her. “I’m sure. I’ll call him when I’m ready for him to test them out.”

“So… how’s everything else?” Izuku asked, voice lowering a little. “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I know you can get carried away with your work.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Good, good,” Izuku said, but she could hear the concern in his voice. “By the way, there’s another hero who’s been looking to get in touch with you. They were impressed by your work, and I think they might be a good fit for your skillset.”

Y/n’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s that?”

Izuku paused for a second before answering, “His name’s Sir Nighteye Junior. He’s got some big projects in the works, and he’s been reaching out to top gear designers. He’s heard about your work with Bakugo and some of the other heroes.”

(LISTEN I FORGOT HE DIED YEARS AGO BUT I ALREADY WROTE HIM INTO THE STORY. PRETEND ITS LIKE SIR NIGHTEYE JR, JUST COPYING SIR NIGHT EYE'S NAME PLS)

Y/n’s brow furrowed at the mention of Nighteye. “That’s... interesting. I’ll need to think about it.”

Izuku chuckled again. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

As Y/n hung up the phone, she let the information settle in her mind. Sir Nighteye Junior, huh? It was a big opportunity, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. She wasn’t used to being sought after by heroes, not at this level. But she had no time to think about it right now. Bakugo’s gauntlets were her priority, and she was determined to get them just right.

The work was never-ending, but for Y/n, that was exactly how she liked it. There was always something more to learn, something more to create. The next challenge had already arrived, and she was ready to face it head-on.

She just hoped she’d have a moment to catch her breath before diving into it.

-

It had been a long, demanding few days for Y/n, and just as she thought she might get a break, the lingering thought of Sir Nighteye Junior's request gnawed at her mind. She had almost sent the message to Bakugo to inform him that his gauntlets were ready for pickup, but instead, she found herself staring at her phone screen, wondering if she should give this new opportunity any serious thought. Was she ready to juggle multiple high-profile projects? Her mind was buzzing with the pressure, but she knew she couldn’t put this off any longer. Sir Nighteye Junior was one of the richest heroes in Japan, after inheriting the original Sir Nighteye's inheritance. But Bakugo was a different story...

So, with a long sigh, she sent Bakugo the text: “Your gauntlets are ready for pickup. Let me know when you can stop by to grab them.”

She tried to relax, but her thoughts kept returning to Nighteye. Could she handle him as a client? What kind of demands would he make? She had met this guy before, and he was a complete ass. She buried her phone in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, but just as she did, she heard the chime of her front door.

Bakugo stood in the doorway, a familiar and yet unsettling presence. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her as he stepped inside, his usual cocky confidence on full display. But something about his demeanor was different—there was less of that harsh energy. Perhaps it was the fact that his gauntlets were finally finished, or maybe something else. She had just sent him that text a few seconds ago? Weird, he was probably on patrol nearby. What a weird little angry troll.

Y/n gestured toward the counter where the gauntlets rested, a sleek black-and-orange masterpiece of engineering. "They're ready," she said, standing up and walking over to them. “I made a few adjustments based on what you mentioned before.”

Bakugo walked toward the counter, his gaze quickly scanning over the gauntlets, his sharp eyes catching every small detail. He was quiet, examining them closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t immediately make a snide remark or scoff. Instead, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing over the design with a surprising amount of care.

"Yeah, this looks solid," Bakugo muttered. "Better than what I was expecting." His voice was low, but there was a hint of something—maybe respect, maybe admiration—hidden behind his usual gruff tone.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure if she heard that correctly. "You actually like it?"

Bakugo scowled but didn’t seem to find any fault with her work. "I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t. You’re not completely useless when it comes to making gear."

Y/n’s lips twitched. It wasn’t the most glowing compliment, but coming from him, it meant more than anything overly effusive. Still, she didn’t want to get too comfortable. "I’m glad it’s up to your standards," she replied, trying to keep the conversation professional. "I made sure to adjust the inner feedback system, and the recoil dampeners should keep your arms in one piece after the big hits."

Bakugo grunted, picking up one of the gauntlets and flexing his fingers inside it. "It feels good," he admitted, still inspecting the mechanics. "Could’ve been a bit tighter around the wrist, though."

Y/n immediately noted the adjustment in her mind, feeling the urge to tweak it, but before she could say anything, Bakugo handed her the gauntlet, his eyes still on the design. “Not bad. You made these quick, I’ll give you that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was that... a compliment? She nodded, acknowledging it. “Thanks, I did my best to get them just right.”

Bakugo was silent for a moment, then his voice shifted, this time a little less guarded. “You’re not so bad at this... I might’ve underestimated you.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, but before she could respond, Bakugo’s expression hardened again. “But if it’s not right when I test it, we’ll have a problem.”

Y/n chuckled to herself, hiding the small smile threatening to form on her face. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it."

But as soon as Bakugo left, her relief didn’t last long. The request from Nighteye had been lingering at the back of her mind. She felt the pressure mounting—could she really handle another demanding hero? Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was from Izuku.

Izuku: “Hey, I know you’re busy, but you need to take a break. You’ve been at this nonstop. Don’t forget to eat, alright? Please let me know if you need anything.”

'Damn how'd he know? Is he sending Bakugo over to spy on me?'

Y/n’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. She didn’t want to worry Izuku, but she knew she couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Still, it was hard to turn down the opportunities coming her way. She took a deep breath, putting the phone down as she forced herself to focus.

But just as she was about to start on those final tweaks, the doorbell chimed once more. She opened the door to see Bakugo standing there, a determined look on his face. He didn’t even wait for her to speak before he stormed in. Why was he back?

“Yo,” Bakugo said, glaring at her. “You’re still gonna be working on those, right?”

Y/n looked at him, confused. “What? I thought you were satisfied with the fit.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, clearly agitated. “I’m not talking about the fit,” he growled. “I’m talking about the fact that you look like you’re about to drop dead. Don’t even think about finishing anything else for anyone else until you get some rest.”

Y/n was taken aback. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bakugo held up a hand. “I’m serious. I don’t want my shit messed up ‘cause you’re running on fumes.”

Y/n felt a flicker of irritation. “I can handle it,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

Bakugo shot her a glare. “No, you can’t. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

She opened her mouth again to argue, but Bakugo was already marching out the door. “I’ll deal with the other hero. Take care of yourself. You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

Oh, so Izuku Midoriya was a snitch. He could never shut up, but seriously? Snitching on me to one of my clients, low blow mido.

Y/n watched as he disappeared, leaving her standing there with the quiet hum of her shop filling the space. The gauntlets, now finished, were still sitting on the counter. They were perfect. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude toward Bakugo, despite his harshness.

She pulled out her phone and texted him, telling him to come pick them up tommrow when his check towards her came in and she finished tightening it around the wrists.

She sat down, staring at the phone that still buzzed with messages from Izuku, and now from Nighteye, and from the other hero she was starting to work with. There was a lot to juggle, but for once, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it all together.

After Bakugo left, Y/n found herself alone in the quiet shop, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights. Her phone buzzed incessantly, but she ignored it, the texts from Izuku, Nighteye, and even her neighbors a distant reminder of everything she was neglecting. She was already too far into the work, too close to finishing something that had been consuming her thoughts for days. The gauntlets were on the counter, and her hands instinctively reached for them again, drawn by the quiet need to make just one more adjustment.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been standing there, focused solely on tightening the area around the wrists of the gauntlets. The pressure on her mind was mounting, but the satisfaction of the work kept her focused, the details of the design unfolding in her mind as she worked. A small click of the wrench and a few more measurements brought the fit closer to perfection, but it wasn’t enough. She had to make sure the adjustment was precise, that the fit would be perfect for Bakugo’s gauntlets—anything less than flawless would be unacceptable.

She didn’t notice the hours slipping by. The light from the window faded, leaving the shop bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lamps, casting long shadows across the workshop floor. It wasn’t until the silence felt too heavy, too oppressive, that she took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from the work.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall—9:45 p.m. Her stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since she had last eaten. She blinked, momentarily dazed, and ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t realized how far she’d pushed herself until now. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of blueprints, soldering, and testing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning.

Her phone was still buzzing on the counter, but she didn’t have the energy to check it. She felt lightheaded from exhaustion, and her body was begging for a break. Still, she had to finish. The gauntlets weren’t quite there yet.

With a soft sigh, Y/n gave up on the idea of further adjustments for the night. She gathered the gauntlets and placed them gently on the table, her mind already preoccupied with how she’d continue tomorrow. She needed to rest, but a quick glance at the clock reminded her of just how little time she had. The pressure was mounting again—she still had to finish the adjustments and complete the other projects waiting for her.

But for now, the call of the bed was stronger.

Yawning, Y/n made her way upstairs, her legs heavy and unsteady. Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of work again, but it didn’t matter. She barely registered the soft light in the hallway as she shuffled toward her room.

Once in bed, her body didn’t hesitate—she collapsed into the sheets, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. Sleep hit her hard, and she was out within minutes, her phone still buzzing unanswered on the kitchen counter.

Outside, the night continued on, but inside Y/n's world was silent, save for the hum of her mind still whirring with the weight of everything she had yet to do.

---

Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of Y/n’s workshop, his mind still running through the adjustments she had made on his gauntlets. The way she worked, her attention to every detail—it had impressed him. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Not yet, anyway. He growled under his breath as he walked down the street, the evening chill nipping at his face. He’d barely slept the past few days, and even now he could feel the weight of the new gauntlets on his shoulders, his thoughts still tangled with the adjustments.

It was quiet, but it was that kind of quiet that felt oppressive, like everything was waiting for something. Something big. The hum of the city buzzed around him, but it barely reached his ears. His mind was still on Y/n and her workshop, the way she had talked about the process, her focus. It was a far cry from the way most people worked. He couldn't deny it—there was something about her approach that made him feel like his gauntlets might finally be exactly what he needed.

But that wasn’t his problem. Not now. He had a different problem. The problem of his life outside of work, the life he couldn't ignore when he wasn’t buried in prototypes and design specs.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine broke his thoughts as he walked past the familiar corner bar. Kirishima, Mina, and Midoriya were already there, waiting for him. He didn’t care much for the whole "drinks with friends" thing—he wasn’t exactly the type to unwind with alcohol. But Kirishima insisted, and despite his usual gruffness, Bakugo didn’t mind the idea of letting off some steam after the past few days of stress.

He opened the door to the bar, the familiar smell of beer and grilled food wafting through the air. Mina waved excitedly from the back booth, her bright pink hair bouncing as she jumped to greet him. Midoriya looked up from his phone, and Kirishima flashed his usual goofy grin.

“Yo, Bakugo!” Kirishima called, giving him a nod. “You look like you’re about to blow up something—what’s up, man?"

Bakugo grunted, sitting down across from them. “Nothing. Just got done with some bullshit.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on his tone. “You’re not in the best mood, huh?”

Bakugo slouched into the seat, still feeling the irritation building in his chest, even though the gauntlets were coming along well. “I’m fine,” he snapped, but there was something in his voice that gave it away. Kirishima didn’t press it, but Midoriya, who had a knack for reading people, glanced over at him.

“Y/n?” Midoriya asked softly, as if testing the waters.

Bakugo tensed, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. She’s good. The gauntlets are... fine. Better than fine, actually. She knows her shit.”

There was a brief pause before Kirishima laughed. “I told you she was awesome, dude. You were all stubborn about it, but now I’m hearing some praise!”

“I’m not praising her,” Bakugo shot back quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “I’m just saying... they’re good. I don’t have time for anything else. I don’t want her to screw it up with my gear.”

Mina smirked, glancing at Kirishima. “Sounds like someone’s got a soft spot for his gear designer.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his fingers twitching toward his drink. “Shut the hell up, Ashido,” he growled, but there was a flicker of something—maybe respect, maybe something else—in his eyes.

Midoriya cleared his throat, always the peacemaker. “So... you’re gonna get the final version of the gauntlets tomorrow, huh?”

Bakugo nodded. “Yeah. She said it’ll be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to test them, make sure there aren’t any problems. If she really knows what she’s doing, they’ll be ready for the field. And if not, I’ll make her fix it.”

Kirishima raised his glass. “To Y/n then, the genius behind Bakugo’s new gear!”

Bakugo scowled at him, but there was no denying the appreciation in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m serious though. If she makes a mistake, I’ll make her fix it. I’m not going back to that useless shit Hatsume made for me.”

Kirishima’s expression softened. “She’s got your back, man. You’ll see.”

Bakugo didn’t answer. Instead, he took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol hit him faster than usual. His thoughts drifted back to Y/n, to the way she had worked on the gauntlets with that quiet focus. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she didn’t seem like the typical designer. She didn’t treat him like some pro hero—she treated him like another job, another challenge.

And for the first time in a long while, it felt like someone was actually getting his gear right.

While Bakugo sat with his friends, the conversation continued around him. But in his head, Y/n’s workshop, her blueprint, and the gauntlets she had crafted were all he could think about. He was still the same Bakugo—the one who didn't trust anyone easily. But this time, maybe... just maybe, his stubborn pride could make room for a bit of respect.

Bakugo’s mind raced with thoughts of the gauntlets, but it wasn’t just the work that was nagging at him now. Y/n had been pushing herself too hard. The stress was practically seeping out of her—he could see it in the way she was working nonstop, barely taking breaks. He'd noticed the way she rubbed her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands, the exhaustion that barely even seemed to phase her. It bothered him more than he'd care to admit, but he wasn’t one to show concern directly. Instead, his instincts kicked in. He wasn't going to let her screw this up because some asshole hero was rushing her to get things done.

It was mid-afternoon when he made up his mind. Bakugo had already done his part by making sure the design was spot on. The rest was up to her. But this new request from Sir Nighteye Junior—a high-profile hero known for his demanding nature—had put undue pressure on Y/n. She didn’t need that kind of stress, not now. She wasn’t some machine that could be pushed past her limits without consequences. Bakugo wasn't going to let some rich hero screw things up, especially when it was about his gear.

He couldn’t believe it—Sir Nighteye Junior had the audacity to demand Y/n prioritize his request over everything else. Bakugo clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his jacket. No one was going to mess with his gauntlets, and definitely no one was going to force Y/n into making mistakes because they couldn't be patient.

Kirishima had told him about the meeting with Sir Nighteye Junior the other day. The hero was practically hounding Y/n for her attention, and he couldn’t stand the thought of some entitled rich kid rushing her work. Bakugo wasn’t a hero for nothing. He was going to set things straight.

Bakugo didn’t waste any time. He left his friends sitting at the bar with one goal in mind. He’d heard where Sir Nighteye Junior had been staying, a lavish penthouse near the edge of the city, and he wasn’t in the mood for playing games. He was sick of heroes like him flaunting their status, using their influence to get what they wanted, especially when it came to Y/n. She’d worked too hard to be pushed around.

He stormed through the front doors of the building, ignoring the receptionist’s attempts to stop him. He was Bakugo Katsuki, and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt too long, the tension in the air almost unbearable. His eyes were sharp, burning with a quiet rage.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Bakugo marched straight toward the door of Sir Nighteye Junior’s suite. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He kicked the door open with force, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the empty space.

Inside, Sir Nighteye Junior was sitting behind an elegant mahogany desk, looking up in surprise as Bakugo stepped in, his expression a perfect mask of annoyance and anger.

“Bakugo Katsuki. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sir Nighteye Junior asked, his voice smooth, but the surprise was still evident in his eyes.

“I’m here to make one thing clear,” Bakugo said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to stop pressuring Y/n. Right now.”

Sir Nighteye Junior’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think you understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. “Y/n doesn’t need your deadlines. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck about your gear requests. She’s been doing this for years, and she’s been doing it damn well. You’re not going to screw that up with your demands. You’ll wait, and you’ll like it.”

There was a tense silence as Sir Nighteye Junior processed his words. Bakugo didn’t move. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was settled. He wasn’t about to let anyone ruin the work Y/n had been doing, not with the pressure she was under. It wasn’t just about her skill—it was about the fact that she had no time to waste on people who didn’t respect her process.

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Sir Nighteye Junior said, his voice colder now. He stood up from his desk, pushing his chair back with a faint creak. “You think you can just come here and demand I halt my requests because of some woman’s workload?”

Bakugo’s eyes hardened. “I’m not asking you to halt your request,” he said, his voice even colder than before. “I’m telling you, you’re going to wait. And if you think I’m bluffing, try me.”

The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence almost suffocating. Sir Nighteye Junior stared at Bakugo, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. But Bakugo didn’t care. He had no intention of backing down.

Finally, Sir Nighteye Junior spoke again, his voice low. “Fine. I’ll give her some breathing room. But don’t think this means I won’t be expecting results. I’m not one to sit idly by.”

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his gaze unyielding. “Good. Now, don’t forget what I just said.”

With that, Bakugo turned and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind him with a satisfying thud. He took a deep breath, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides.

As he made his way back to his apartment, Bakugo’s thoughts shifted back to Y/n. He hadn’t done this for her approval, not in the way most people would expect. He wasn’t trying to be a good guy. But she deserved respect. She deserved the space to do her work, and he’d be damned if anyone tried to interfere with that.

When he finally got back to his apartment, he slumped down onto the couch. He didn’t feel satisfied, but there was a strange sense of relief that washed over him. Maybe it wasn’t about the gear after all. Maybe it was more about making sure Y/n had the space to do her thing without being harassed.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. Should he text her? Probably not. But then again, she needed to know. He didn’t care about being nice. But maybe—just maybe—she’d appreciate the fact that he had her back.

He sent the text.

"I dealt with that scrawny Nighteye Junior kid, he's off your shoulders. So make sure you rest so my gauntlets will turn out perfect. Got it?"

Bakugo’s face contorted in disgust as he recalled the stench of the penthouse. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sex, a sharp, off-putting reminder of the kind of people Sir Nighteye Junior kept company with. It wasn’t a place Bakugo was used to. He was used to being around real heroes, people who cared about their work, their craft, and their integrity—not some spoiled, entitled rich kid who thought he could buy respect.

The two women who had been lounging on the couch, barely clothed and obviously unbothered by the presence of a professional hero, only added to the vile atmosphere. They had barely even acknowledged Bakugo’s entrance, too busy sipping on glasses of wine and giggling like they hadn’t a care in the world. It sickened him, the lack of respect, the blatant disregard for what was important. It wasn’t his place to judge, but it still made him feel like the air was dirtier than it should’ve been.

But he had a job to do, and that wasn’t going to be swayed by the trashy atmosphere he’d had to endure for the past half-hour. He was there for one thing and one thing only: Y/n’s work. It was what mattered, not the indulgences of people like Sir Nighteye Junior.

Shaking off the memory, Bakugo sat down on the couch in his apartment, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. He’d sent the text to Y/n, but now he was waiting for her response. Part of him felt weird about it—he wasn’t the kind of person who just casually texted someone after something like this. But this was different. He knew he had to check in on the gauntlets; she deserved to have everything perfect.

There was a rare sense of calm now that the situation with Sir Nighteye Junior was resolved. He’d made sure Y/n wouldn’t be pressured anymore. He’d gone out of his way, despite his usual attitude, because she deserved it. Her work mattered too much for someone to throw around their power like that.

Now, as he waited for the message to come through, he couldn’t help but think about the gauntlets. They were perfect, weren’t they? He had been impressed with the prototype, and after seeing her dedication, after seeing her work with such precision, he knew she was the right person for the job. No more interruptions. No more stress. He couldn’t wait to see how it all came together, and now that the pressure from Sir Nighteye Junior was off her shoulders, Bakugo was certain she could finish them without any distractions.

As he stared at his phone, the buzzing vibration broke his concentration. The message from Y/n was there, and he quickly unlocked the screen, his eyes scanning it.

"Yup i got it, btw gauntlets are ready for testing," she had written. "Let me know when you can come by, and we’ll get started."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s lips. Perfect. It was exactly what he had been waiting for.

---

[justlemmeadoreyou]

a misfortune | (mechanic!harry part 1)

Okay, so here is my version of the grumpy!harry x sunshine!yn trope. I had midterms so this got a bit late! Sorry! I don't rhink you waited for my shitty writing, but here it is (forcefully)

masterlist | tip me! | ask box!

Summary: Harry is a grumpy asshole, but he is also a mechanic that you are in desperate need of. Sunshine!reader x Grumpy! harry trope

Word Count: ~2k

8 hours.

That's how long you've been in the backseat of your car, and chewing on your already swollen nails. All your belongings, from clothes to your oversized makeup bag, toiletries, blankets, bedsheets, and even your electronic gadgets, are crammed beside you on the backseat. Your life has spiraled into chaos because your landlord has kicked you out.

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you recall the moments that have led you to this bleak situation. It isn't fair, which is something you think. That isn't true though. You haven't paid your proper rent in nearly six months, frequently stumbling home at obnoxious hours, blasting loud music when you were drunk and high, and you hadn't even bothered to check the 15-day eviction notice that arrived almost 20 days ago. So, yes, your landlord had every right to kick you out.

You were irresponsible, reckless, and didn't give two cares until you became homeless. With your car serving as an unwelcome shelter, you realize you should have been more responsible. You should have cared more about your living situation before it all came crashing down on you. If only you had taken your life more seriously, you wouldn't be stuck in your car on this cold, lonely night.

It was the beginning of November, and you had so many plans about decorating your small apartment. You had fetched out the Christmas lights too, planning on hanging them out the following weekend. The memory of those festive plans, the warmth of the holiday spirit, now feels like a distant dream.

You wipe away your tears, but they keep flowing. You shift some of your stuff down on the floor of the car to make some space to sleep in. You curl up into yourself in the small space, and after a few more tears, you're finally asleep.

You're woken by harsh knocks on your window. You try to open your eyes, but the sunlight pouring in through the window is so blinding that you have to squint and shield your face with your hand.

It's a man, who looks angry at you. You roll down the window a bit so you can hear what he's saying.

“Could you move your car out of here, please?”

You rub your eyes and finally get a look at your surroundings, and you see that you've basically parked at the entrance of a house.

“Yeah-yeah. I will. Sorry,” you grunt with a raspy voice, and he goes back inside.

You quickly fix your clothes and your hair, and grabbed the car keys from your pocket. Opening the door, you got out of the backseat and got back out front.

Pushing the key in, you turned it, but the engine didn’t start. You tried it again and again, biut all in vain.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Now even your car had given up on you.

You felt like crying all over again, this was all so heartbreaking. You had to get the car checked almost two months ago, when the check engine light had started to blink first.

You pulled out your phone and searched for a nearby garage. Hopefully, there was one that was 2 blocks away. But that meant you wouyld have to push your car two blocks.

You could also call a tow service, but that would take money, and money was something you were running short on.

With a loud sigh, you switched the handbrake on, and got out of the car.

Rolling up your sleeves, you started to push it. The car was so heavy, and you managed a good 200 meters, before you were sweating profusely, and almost gave up, putting your hands on your knees and breathing loudly.

A kind man offered to help, and thank lord he did. With lots of struggle and a good 15 minutes, you were finally able to reach the garage.

Quick Fix Auto

You read the garage name, before lockiong your car and walking in. It was still 8 pm, so you doubted getting any help at this hour.

“Hello?”

You called out tentatively as you entered the garage and walked further into the shop, past the cars and vehicles scattered out front. Hopefully, a second voice would call you back, or you would have had to wait for someone to come in.

“Yeah, I’m a bit busy. Be out in a minute,” the voice replied. It sounded British and thickly laced with an accent. You couldn't help but think that now a gorgeous British guy would see your horrible car, which was also your home, all wrecked up and messed up due to negligence. Bonus points to you for not even washing your face after waking up.

You briefly contemplated running away and finding another garage with an old mechanic. However, you realized you physically wouldn't have been able to do that. So, you took a deep breath, preparing to face the embarrassment and potential humiliation.

After a few moments, he came out, and boy, was he gorgeous. A white headband held his thick hair back, and below that was a beautifully shaped face with green eyes. His tan hands were covered in a bit of grease, and he had tools hanging from his upturned waistband.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and you gulped hard, snapping back to reality from admiring his physique. Boy, was he pretty.

“Oh, um... I tried to start my car this morning, but it won’t start.”

“And what’s the issue? The battery is out, fuel is down?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I came here.”

“Jeez, your breath smells terrible. Alright, let me have a look at it. Keys?”

He extended his hand to take your keys while looking into your eyes. You squinted at him for his rude remark, then handed him the keys.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

He kept walking, ignoring your comment. As he reached your car, he stopped in his tracks when he saw your belongings inside it. He turned back to look at you, and you frowned. Eye bags, dark circles under your eyes, a sad face, and you hadn't even washed your face; you had to rush to get your car fixed. You were in bad shape.

He decided to draw a line and not throw questions at you. He opened your car and took a look inside, noticing that the check engine light was on.

“How long has this been on for?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, about... 2 months?”

He slumped his shoulders and came back out, walking to yhe front and opening the hood of the car. As soon as it went up, a big cloud of smoke escaped.

“Fuck. What did you do?”

He coughed a bit, taking a step back to let the smoke dissipate. You felt even more humiliated than before, but he seemed more focused on the issue with your car than making further remarks about your condition.

“Alright. So, this is not going to get fixed in a short while. It’s going to take atlest 2 days.”

“No! Where will I live?”

You exclaimed loudly, and his eyes widened.

You could book a hotel?”

“I don’t have money.”

“A motel?”

“How will I reach one? Most of them are out of town.”

“Right, so you could still sleep in it at night, but I lock the garage at 11. So, you will have to park it outside.”

She nodded her head, and he still felt bad for her.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

He extended the same grease-stained hand again, and she complied, shaking hands with him.

"I'm Yn." she said.

"There’s a bathroom at the back. You can clean up there if you want to. My staff comes in at 9, so you still have about half an hour."

She smiled at his kind offer. He might be rude and grumpy, but he wasn't a bad person.

"Thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"Oh that's okay. But, you do have money to pay for your car, right?"

You did a quick calculation in your mind, and quickly came to the conclusion that you didn't have even that money.

"No, but- listen to me! My payday is here, so I'm gonna get paid soon. I have to buy few supplies first, and then I promise I will pay you as soon as possible. I'll borrow money from my friends."

"As long as I get paid, I don't care where you get the money from."

And the grumpiness was back.

"Okay! Can I go in?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

You got some stuff from the car and went inside the garage. walking all the way to the back, and finding the washroom. You locked the door and cleaned yourself up.

Meanwhile, Harry took a look at your car.

It was in a bad condition. it hadn't been serviced in over two years, and the engine oil hadn't been replaced in so long. The battery was old too. A lot of work had to be done. and he had no idea how he would manage when you literally lived in the car.

Meanwhile, you were happy to have gotten a place to brush and bathe. Initially, you thought you would have to go to a cafe or restaurant, and brushing and bathing there would’ve been embarrassing. Even though embarrassment and humiliation were your best friends now.

You walked out in clean clothes a while later. and saw your car standing at the same place, with no sign of Harry. You searched for him again, and found him at the back, working on the same car he had been in when you had arrived.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you working on my car?"

He slid out from the bottom of the car, before replying, "I have other jobs too. First come, first serve. Plus, this one paid me in advance."

You frowned and flared at his words, and decided to deal with him later.

"So, can I take it, then? I have to go to work."

"No, I will work on it in the afternoon."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to reach work?"

"Many options, by foot, take the bus, order an Uber, Oh! Sorry! I forgot you didn't have money."

He mocked you once again, and this time, you seriously wanted to punch him across the face. Maybe you would, once your car was done. But right now, you have priorities.

"Alright, fine. But my stuff is in the car."

"Chill. Nobody's gonna take it. They might give things to you, though."

You rolled your eyes again, and went back to your car. Why did he have to be such a dick?

Gathering your bag, you stuffed your valuables, leaving only clothes and heavy articles behind. You shifted it to one corner, and draped a huge sheet to cover it.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

And once again, that grumpy asshole ignored you.

(next part)

divider by @firefly-graphics

okay, sorry if this sucked, i really don't know how to write l literally finished this at 2am, so really really sorry

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @whoreonmondays @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[deadsetobsessions]

“My bad, homeslice.”

“You are so old.” Duke grumbled at Dick, clutching his bleeding nose where Dick had just kicked it by accident in the middle of showing Damian a move.

“I’m not old!” Dick quickly grabbed the med kit to help stem the blood flow and assess the injury. “I know you’re trying to get back at me right now, but I’m not old!”

“You literally used “I’m the bomb.com” yesterday, unironically.” Steph grinned. Her wrapped fists slammed into the punching bag, Steph’s form taking on a bit of Cassandra’s flow. She alternated between brutal kicks and devastating punches, the repetitive motions ingraining the moves until it was less of a move and more of a reflex. “Face it, you’re getting old.”

“I believe you are greying, Richard. Perhaps you should invest in hair dyes.” Damian smirked, handing duke a bandage.

“Greying? GREYING?” Dick looked as if he’d taken a devastating blow, dramatically clutching his metaphorical pearls and swooning. “My hair is perfectly black! Look at these gorgeous locks, Damian! You’re killing me! I’m not turning old!”

“Yeah, guys, he’s not old.” Tim chimed in from his own training area, bo staff no longer slicing through the air. Instead, Tim was crouched down, adding enhancements and gadgets onto his staff.

“Thank you, Tim! See? At least I can trust Tim to have my back!”

“He’s not old,” Tim repeated, glancing up in amusement. “He’s just elderly.”

Dick let out a dramatic gasp. “Betrayed! By my own kin! You beasts!”

“Oh no, what a nightmare.” Duke intoned sarcastically, muffled behind the patch job done on his nose.

“This is the jungle, Richard. The laws of nature must be upheld.” Damian jabbed a pouting Dick Grayson back to the training mats.

Duke snickered, wiping off specks of blood. “Yeah, and the elderly gotta make way for the young.”

“You guys are such assholes, I respect it.”

Duke gave him an innocent look, aided by the guilt inducing bloody rag on his face.

“Thanks. I’m a a natural at it.” Steph threw a grin over her shoulder and finished up her training. “Hey, old man, wanna show me that flip you did off of Brunner’s Chemical Disposal?”

Dick grumbled but acquiesced.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Since you smashed my other request👏🏻 I was wondering if you could do this one as its nearing Christmas🫶🏻

Reader keeps asking bucky what he wants for Christmas but bucky keeps saying nothing, reader is stuck for ideas then she comes up with this idea; https://www.facebook.com/share/r/AS8RZtHRrSf9KTre/

She's gets all dolled up like she's from the 40s and does a photoshoot and puts a picture in a pocket watch for him and bucky opens it and is shocked and tears up alittle because its part of his past and future all in one🥹🫶🏻

A Timeless Christmas

Warmings: None, just utter fluff.

The first flakes of snow dusted the streets of Brooklyn. Y/N hustled through the shops, her scarf pulled snug around her neck.

Christmas was around the corner, and while the lights and music filled the city with cheer, she felt a pang of frustration. For weeks, she had been trying to coax an answer out of Bucky about what he wanted for Christmas, but his responses ranged from vague to downright unhelpful.

“I don’t need anything, Doll,” he’d said the last time she asked, his steel-blue eyes soft but unwavering. “You’re all I need.”

Sweet? Absolutely. Helpful? Not in the slightest. Y/N loved Bucky with all her heart, but the man was impossible to shop for. He wasn’t materialistic and didn’t care for modern gadgets. She wanted to give him something meaningful, something that bridged the gap between the man he used to be and the man he was now. The question was, what?

Later that evening, she flopped onto the couch with her phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media. A video popped up in her feed: a woman dressed in vintage 1940s attire, complete with pin curls and a red lip, posing for an old-fashioned photoshoot. Y/N paused, her heart skipping a beat as an idea took root. It was perfect. A tribute to the time Bucky grew up in, combined with a personal touch just for him.

Y/N’s mind raced as she began to plan. She’d need the right outfit, hair, and makeup to pull it off. And a photographer who could capture the look she was going for. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she realized how much he’d love it—a reminder of his past, but with her in it, blending their worlds together.

The next week was a whirlwind. Y/N scoured thrift stores and online shops for the perfect 1940s-style dress: a deep emerald green tea dress with a nipped waist and a flowing skirt. She paired it with seamed stockings and vintage kitten heels. A delicate pearl necklace and matching earrings completed the look. She booked an appointment with a local salon that specialized in vintage hairstyles and found a photographer whose studio was decked out with props from the era.

The day of the photoshoot, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The stylist pinned her hair into perfect victory rolls, and the makeup artist gave her a classic red lip and winged eyeliner. When she looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. She looked like she’d stepped out of a time machine.

“You look incredible,” the photographer said as she adjusted the lighting. The studio was set up with a retro armchair, an old phonograph, and a small Christmas tree adorned with tinsel. “This is going to be stunning.”

Y/N posed shyly at first, but as the session went on, she grew more comfortable. She laughed as the photographer encouraged her to twirl in her dress, the skirt flaring out around her.

By the end of the session, she felt like a Hollywood star.

When the photos were ready, Y/N selected her favorite: a shot of her sitting in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other, her hands delicately holding a wrapped gift. Her smile was soft, her gaze slightly averted, as if she were waiting for someone—waiting for him. She had the image printed and carefully placed inside a vintage-style pocket watch she’d found online. The watch was silver, with intricate engravings on the outside. It was timeless, just like the gift.

Christmas morning arrived with a blanket of fresh snow covering the city. Y/N woke early, the nerves from her surprise making her stomach flutter. She and Bucky exchanged small gifts by the tree, the living room glowing with the warm light of the fairy lights. He’d gotten her a soft cashmere scarf in her favorite color and a book she’d been eyeing for months. She couldn’t stop smiling, but she kept glancing at the small box under the tree, waiting for the right moment.

Finally, after their second cup of coffee, she handed him the box.

“What’s this?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from her.

“Just open it,” she said, unable to keep the grin off her face.

Bucky unwrapped the box carefully, his large hands surprisingly delicate. When he opened the lid and saw the pocket watch, his breath hitched. He ran his fingers over the engravings before pressing the clasp to open it. The photo inside made him freeze.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb brushed over the image, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was real. “Doll, this is…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly as his eyes glistened.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly, her own heart in her throat.

He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of awe and tenderness. “Like it? I… I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect.”

Bucky closed the watch carefully, holding it in his hand as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I… Thank you. It’s like… it’s like you took my past and made it part of my future. I don’t know how you do it, Doll. You always know exactly what I need, even when I don’t.”

She smiled against his shoulder, tears pricking her own eyes. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve everything.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the pocket watch resting safely in his hand. Later, when they went for a walk through the snowy streets, he carried it in his coat pocket, his thumb occasionally brushing over it, a silent reminder of the woman who had brought light and love into his life.

As the day went on, the watch found a home on the bedside table, right next to a framed photo of the two of them. Bucky caught himself glancing at it often, the image inside grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in decades. The lines between his past and present blurred, leaving him feeling whole for the first time in years.

That evening, as they curled up on the couch, Bucky tilted his head back to look at Y/N. “You really are somethin’ else, you know that?”

She laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re worth it.”

His hand found hers, fingers intertwining. “You gave me more than a gift today. You gave me a piece of myself I thought I lost forever. I’ll never forget this, Doll. Never.”

She squeezed his hand, her smile widening. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

“Merry Christmas, My best girl.”

The snow continued to fall outside, filling the city with a peaceful silence. But inside their small apartment, the warmth of their love filled every corner much like the man who held it so dearly in his heart.

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this one too, Dear! Have a great Christmas! 🎄🎁

[m0llygunn]

level one (modern!eddie x fem!reader)

tired of eddie spending far too much time playing games on his new laptop, you decide to play your own little game...

contents: 18+! mature language, smut, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, desperate eddie, porn with plot an: go go gadget extendo arms wc: 4.8k

You watch as Eddie’s forearm flexes with every press of his index finger on the mouse. The clicking of the button, too many clicks for you to count, sound throughout your room as he sits at your vanity— beauty products pushed back to make space for him and his stupid new gaming laptop. 

The way his forearm tenses with each subtle movement of his fingers reminds you of other acts he could do that would elicit the same flex of his muscles. It makes you squirm in your bed in anticipation— anticipation that has been absolutely testing your limits.

You’ve been patient— beyond patient. He knows you’re waiting for him. He knows he shouldn’t be playing his game right now. He said he wouldn’t. He said it was your night, yet, here he is, preoccupied with his video game.  

His forearm tenses in rapid clicks that peter out with a content sigh. He stretches his hand, drops the mouse and stretches his wrist out. He hums again, clearly happy with whatever the outcome of his game was. You hold your breath, hoping that maybe the screen will minimize and he’ll be done. Sorely mistaken, he reclaims the mouse in his hand and the steady clicking resumes. 

You can’t take it anymore, you’ve waited long enough. You stand up quickly, tiptoeing your way to stand behind him. You try to catch his gaze in your vanity mirror but his eyes stay locked into the screen. In a desperate attempt for his attention, you rest both hands on his shoulders— nothing. With his lack of reaction, you slowly slide your flattened palms downwards. 

“Eddie,” you whisper, nudging his headphones with the side of your face as you lean over him, hands smoothing over his shoulders, down his pecs to rest on his stomach. He radiates warmth from the heavy flow of adrenaline and heightened heart rate from playing his game for far too long. 

“Mhm,” he hums, paying you less than a second of attention. His screen flashes bright colours as it changes rapidly with whatever he’s doing in game. The frequent clicks of his mouse and taps of his keyboard don’t stutter in the slightest. 

“Eddie,” you say louder, voice dripping in a whine. 

“Baby, just a minute,” he answers, attention so obviously elsewhere. 

“You said that an hour ago,” you pout. Leaning over him completely, you slide your hands even lower, fingertips reaching his belt line. You watch his reaction in the mirror of your vanity— nothing.

Threading your fingers under the material of his belt, you pull the leather through the loops, metal clanking as you loosen it. You get your first real ounce of attention from  Eddie when he spares a glance downwards. His eyes quickly divert back to his screen, attention barely drawn long enough to spot an inconsistency in his game play. 

“I’m still on call,” he states quickly, referring to the voice chat he’s always in with his friends. He’s been quiet for the past while so you weren’t sure, but maybe this makes things even more fun for you. 

“Oh?” you reply innocently. 

Twisting the fabric around the button of his jeans, you pull it undone before dragging down the zipper.

“Baby, I’ll be done in two minutes. Just give me two minutes,” he bargains with divided attention. 

“You just said one minute,” you retort, keeping your voice low, giving him your own divided attention. With your chin hooked over his shoulder you watch as the tent in his boxers comes to life, like an instinctive reaction to your hands being anywhere near his waistline. You don’t hold back your smile, you love the effect you have on him. 

Running your fingers over the band of his underwear, you don’t miss the hitch of his breath. You let your palm smooth across the soft cotton of his boxers, feeling the stiffening of his length just underneath. His stomach tenses behind your wrists and you hear the sound of him swallowing down thickly. Turning your head, you press a kiss to his neck, tracing your fingers over his length. You hear the quiet intake of breath as he readies himself to speak. 

“Baby, just a minute.” It comes out as a thick whine. You adore when he whines, could listen to it all day if it wasn’t so cruel. Closing your hand around his clothed cock, a moan falls from his lips that he quickly tries to cover with a cough.

“You really want me to stop?” you whisper.

He clears his voice, now all too aware of the quiet listeners on the other end of his mic. “I just need to finish this,” he says, over correcting his wavering voice by deepening it to a low register. 

“That’s not what I asked,” you say, breathing out an amused huff from your nose. 

“The guys can hear you,” he states. He adjusts the way he’s sitting, spreading his legs out wider on the chair to accommodate the growth between his thighs. His focus is slowly becoming yours but too much of it still remains on his game for your liking. 

With a smile, you press another kiss to his neck before switching to rest your head on his other shoulder, right next to the mic on his headphones. 

“Hi boys,” you purr and just like that, you have his full attention. With a hand quickly moving to muffle the mic in his fist, he turns to face you. 

“What are you doing?” he asks incredulously with wide eyes. He pulls the headphones off, tossing them to the table, eyes never leaving yours. 

You blink at him— pledging your innocence. “Saying hi to your friends?” you answer, with a virtuous tilt of your head.

His wide eyes transform into a humoured bewilderment.  “That’s not what you were doing,” he laughs with a cynical shake of his head. 

“Eddie. I’m just saying hi. Can’t I say hi?” 

His short lived humorous front drops, turning serious very quickly. With an intense look, he meets your eyes, leaning in towards you. 

“You can’t say hi to my friends when you’re touching my dick, baby,” he says, hushing his voice, adding an accusatory emphasis to his name of endearment . It’s condemning but you don’t confess your sins— not yet, there’s still so much more fun to be had. 

“Well, did they at least say hi back?” you ask, ignoring him.

His mouth closes, pressing into a flatline. His dark eyes tick with a weak, forced, annoyance. He gives you a look, brows straightening out, eyes blinking once to harden, face tilting downwards to you— you could only describe it as an attempt to be stern.

 “Baby. Give me 5 minutes and I’ll come to bed. 5 minutes.” It’s not a whine, it’s not a plea— it is stern. His eyes narrow in on you with a sincerity that makes your brows furrow and lungs fill with an argumentative breath. You let out a pouted grunt, not an agreement or disagreement, and he naively takes it as an answer. 

He regroups himself, returning to face forward as he stretches his wrist out, tendons flexing all the way up his forearm before taking the mouse in his hand again. You sink your chin over his shoulder like before, hugging around his shoulders. It might seem like an act of defeat, but it's not.

When the clicking of the mouse and tapping of the keyboard return to its regular rhythm, you run your hands back down his chest. You feel Eddie huff a breath but you ignore it, trailing your hands down to his open jeans, letting your hands just barely touch his fully hard length trapped in the confinement of his boxers. You tut to yourself.

“Must be uncomfortable,” you whisper against the sensitive skin of his neck, giving him shivers. He shimmies his shoulders slightly, shaking the fluttery jolts away. 

“It is,” he answers, trying his best to focus on his game. You press a kiss to the side of his neck, working your way upwards, softening his hardened disposition with nothing more than your lips. When you place a kiss behind his ear, he tilts his head, giving you more space and you know you have him.

“Want me to help?” you ask, resting the palms of your hands on his lower belly. 

“In five minutes,” he answers unconvincingly, head still cocked to the side for you to continue your kisses.

“How about this,” you whisper. Eddie stays silent so you carry on, “you can have your cake and eat it too?”

He hums, a hint of intrigue appearing in his voice for the first time tonight.

“You keep playing your game, and I’ll keep myself entertained with my game?” you offer, punctuating your words with a kiss to his neck. 

“Baby,” he laughs breathily. You run your hand down to his length again, rubbing your thumb over his boxers where the head of his cock lays. His breath catches.

“Want me to keep going?” you ask in a sultry tone. He nods. You run your thumb over his tip again, feeling the dampness seeping through the material.

“Keep going, baby, please,” he whimpers and that’s enough encouragement for you to crawl your hands up to the waistband of his boxers. 

Lifting the elastic, you slide one hand in, taking his aching cock in your fist and squeezing it lightly.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips tilting towards your touch.

In a swift movement, he retreats both hands from his game, bringing them to the waistband of his jeans and tugging them just far enough down his hips so you can comfortably pull his cock out. He returns his hands to his game, pressing some buttons, making the screen flash bright colours. You can’t help but smile to yourself. 

“Now you’re excited, huh?” you say with a teasing laugh, hand still resting around his length in the confines of his boxers.

“Baby,” he whines. “If you wanna do this, don’t tease.”

“Baby,” you coo back mockingly. He huffs a sigh but you continue all the same. “I’m about to make you cum while you’re playing your stupid game, you don’t get to tell me what to do,” you purr, pulling his cock out with one hand and pushing the band under his balls with the other.

His cock sits heavy in your hand, tip already glistening with a pretty pearlescent sheen. You feel Eddie’s chest puff out with his deep breath, preparing himself for what you’re about to do.

Despite his anticipation, in a swift movement you pull your hand away from him. His length bob against his bunched up boxers and his chest deflates as he lets out a disapproving ‘humph’. You know you’re milliseconds away from another whined ‘baby’. 

“Spit,” you demand, bringing your hand closer to his mouth. 

Glancing over his shoulder he briefly catches your gaze, eyebrows arched up in confusion. “Me?” he asks dumbly, uncertain if you were speaking to him. 

“Yeah, you. Unless you want me to rub your cock dry?”

You see the faint grimace he makes, probably as he thinks about the sensation of dry skin on dry skin. He lowers his mouth to your hand, dribbling out a glob of spit. You move to take his cock again but he stops you with a hand on your wrist, bringing your open palm back to his mouth as he spits a second time.

“Aww, want your cock nice and wet?” you coo, smiling as you crane your neck to see his face from over his shoulder.

“Baby,” he whispers, a hint of embarrassment colouring his whine. You love him like this, you really do. Having him so bashful yet pliant. 

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek this time. 

You take him in your right hand, spreading his spit over his length. With your thumb, you glide over his leaking head gathering precum before fisting all the way to his base. He bucks forwards in your hand and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Want it really wet and messy, huh? That’s how you like it?” you say lowering your voice, running your fist up his length, watching as the mixture spreads and shines over his skin.  

“Mhmm,” he moans, cock jumping in your hand. 

“Should we make it more wet than this?”

“Please, baby,” he answers, voice already sounding strangled. You pull your hand away, spitting into your palm. Eddie groans, listening to the wetness of your mouth. He moves his head closer to yours, tilting it as he affectionately nudges his warm cheek against yours.

An appreciative hum sounds in the back of your throat as you bring your hand back down to his cock. Wrapping your hand around him again, you loosely pump up and down his length. He’s being cute now, not so much for the better half of the last hour though.

“Too bad you didn’t come to bed, coulda been my mouth doing all the work,” you tut. 

His breath stutters as he absorbs your words and a groaned “fuck” rises in his throat. Raising your other hand up to your face, you lick your palm before spitting into it.

“Then it woulda been really messy for you,” you finish, nuzzling your own cheek to his.

“You could still use your mouth,” he offers in a hushed voice, hopefulness peeking out in his tone. If he was good and came to bed that would have been your obvious choice, but it weighs heavy in your mind that he kept you waiting. 

“Nuh-uh,” you laugh. At the same time you reach your newly wet palm under his length, cradling his balls in your hand. His hips lift from your upholstered chair, shoulders rising high enough to bump your chin as he lets out a mangled gasp that divulges into a heavy moan when you start to lightly massage them.

“Jesus Christ,” he curses, hips lowering back down. His hands stay sitting on his mouse and laptop but halt all movement as his head knocks backwards, coming to rest against your shoulder.

“Play your game, Eddie. You wanted to play so bad, don’t get distracted now.”

You run your fist up and down his length in slow languid strokes. In your other hand, you fondle his balls, massaging them with careful fingers that have his thighs tensing. His head knocks your cheek, still gentle, but harder than the affectionate nudge from before. He’s shaking his head, reduced to a one track mind, all thoughts of playing his game lost in the wind. 

“Faster, please,” he pleads, meeting the thrusts of your fist with short jerks of his hips. 

“Play your game, Eddie,” you say sternly, keeping your steady pace.

He lets out a huff of discontent before sucking in a breath. “Can't,” he whines, hair jostling beside you, tickling your cheek, as he shakes his head again. 

“Oh but you have to, Eddie. You keep playing your game I’ll keep playing mine,” you tease, reveling in the whine and neediness rooted in the man crumbling before you. 

Crumbling— yet pulling himself together enough to please you. 

You watch as Eddie gathers enough focus to press the buttons, moving around aimlessly in his game. He’s definitely not completing any objectives— whatever those may be, but it’s enough for you to keep pumping his cock, slowly but surely increasing your pace.

His chest heaves under your arms, short breaths panting in and out beside your ear for you to hear. The way he presses the buttons on his keyboard is frenetic, in bursts as he remembers his personal objective is to keep playing. 

“Poor boy,” you coo. “Doesn’t know what he wants. First he wants to play his little game, then he wants to cum,” you tut. 

“Don’t want to play anymore,” he says through a tired, strangled breath, embellishing his words with a whimper as you run your thumb over his tip. 

“No?” you ask, sprinkling your words with an overzealous empathy.

“No, just want you,” he answers, voice small and pitiful. His statement is more impactful on you than just his hearty whines, it plays its purpose well, pulling at your heartstrings, making your lower lip jet out in a sentimental pout.

“That’s sweet,” you answer, nearly matching the same smallness of his voice. 

He tilts his head to yours again in another affectionate nudge. “Mhm,” he agrees, pressing his cheek to yours. 

His fingers relax on the keyboard and you decide he’s had enough teasing for now. You punctuate your game with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Showing him mercy, moving your fist faster, Eddie steadily meets each pump with a roll of his hips until he’s fucking your fist in quick, desperate thrusts. His head rests back against your shoulder and you hum in his ear encouraging him to keep going.

“Feel good, baby?” you ask.

“Mhmm, feels really good,” he chokes out, sucking in a deep breath making his belly push out against your forearms. 

Twisting your wrist, you focus on his tip, rubbing over it in quick strokes that make the slick spit and cum mixture squelch between your fingers. He exhales in a deep moaned gasp and his muscles tense under your grip.

“You already close? Gonna cum for me, Eddie?” you speak into his ear, brushing your lips against his sensitive skin.

“Please, baby. Just like that, mm gonna— m gonna—” he says, words laced with moans and whimpers that get caught in his throat. 

You pick up your speed, doing the same twisting motion of your wrist. You feel his cock pulsing in your hand and his balls tensing, his breath is ragged, laboured oxygen getting stuck in his lungs. You know he’s right on the edge.

“Fuck— fuck I’m gonna cum,” he warns, voice gathering urgency.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum?” you purr, keeping your lips pressed to the shell of his ear, encouraging him with the sultry tone of your voice.

“G-gonna—”

“Mhmm, cum for me, Eddie,” you moan for him.

With the tense of his throbbing cock, and a deep throaty grunt, thick white shoots from his tip. His grunt diminishes to a strangled whimper and you coo for him, praising him with a chorus of ‘good boys’ and affectionate fawning. He pants in deep exasperated breaths, his chest heaving in and out as you continue slow tugs of his cock, milking him for the rest of his cum, letting it seep out over your fist. 

When his breathing turns sharp, you show him mercy for the second time tonight, tapering the pace of your movements and coming to a slow halt. He releases a drawn out breath.

As the moment lulls, you let yourself take in the aftermath of his release, eyeing him through the mirror with pure admiration. 

His eyes are shut, heavy eyelids weighing them closed in a lazy pinch that matches the relaxed furrow of his brow. His face is tilted back to rest against your shoulder, exposing the full expanse of his red splotchy neck. A matching blush carries up to his jaw and across his cheeks. It’s endearing and adds an extra beat in the steady rhythm of your heart as you appreciate him in his come down. 

Your eyes flutter from the mirror down to the screen of his laptop, now void of movement. Something of higher interest peaks your attention; atop the glowing led screen are painted white streaks that bleed down into the crevice of the keyboard. 

“Aw, would you look at that?” you start. Eddie knocks the edge of his face against yours, a low hum coming from the back of his throat. “You came all over your precious laptop,” you finish dryly. His cheek rubs against yours tenderly, his breathing still ragged.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, still in the hazy state of his orgasm, not yet clear headed enough to care about anything except you and the tingle of pleasure that cascades throughout him.

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. He brings a warm palm to your face, holding you there, gathering strength from the generous affection of your lips on his skin. You draw out your kiss before turning. He continues holding you by your cheek, keeping you pressed to the edge of his face, demanding more of your affection in any way possible.

“Fuck,” he repeats again, sucking in a heavy breath. “So good, baby,”

“Yeah? Just my hand was okay for you?”

“More than okay,” he breathes out. 

“Good,” you reply, feeling the swell of his praise blossom as a warmth in your already hot belly. 

“Gonna—” he breathes out an arduous sigh, “gonna come to bed now,” he says, nodding his head, agreeing with himself. He turns his face, pressing a kiss to your cheek before releasing you and pushing the chair back. 

“Finally,” you tease standing up and putting a stretch in your lower back. Using your pinky to open one of your drawers, you grab a tissue, leaving the drawer open for Eddie to help himself. He appreciatively grabs a few and starts dabbing at his screen and keyboard, cleaning up his mess.

You watch him for a few seconds before leaning over him again, hugging him tightly. He rests his hand over your crossed forearms, hugging you back as best as he can. You let go and retreat back to your bed, waiting for him to join you again.

“I can’t believe I came on my laptop,” he says as he tosses the tissue in the bin under your table. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. He turns his head, looking at you with a smirk.

“Nope. It was only a matter of time,” he laughs, dimples deepening.

You flash him a grimace, scrunching your nose up. “Gross,” you tease. 

His gaze settles from amusement into something soft, somewhere along the lines of appreciative as he takes in the sight of you waiting for him in your bed, your eyes dark with your own desire, legs crossed over one another in attempts to satiate some of the neediness between your thighs that he so cruelly has dragged out.

“Just gonna log out,” he explains before daring to look back at the screen. 

You nod and he turns back around, taking the mouse in his hand again. You settle deeper in the bed, watching as the game minimizes before disappearing from the screen entirely. He turns his head enough for you to know he’s talking to you but keeps his eyes on the screen as his fingertips fan over the keyboard. “Gonna send the guys a message too and— oh fuck.”

You perk up when you hear his abrupt curse, curious what could have gone wrong in such a short amount of time.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he choruses, face going completely pale. He scrambles for the discarded headphones pulling them over his ears. 

“Hello?” he speaks nervously into the mic. His face relaxes completely before his eyes suddenly widen, going wider than you’ve ever seen them go. 

Part of you wants to jump up, go over and listen to whoever is talking on the other end, but the other part of you stays frozen, planted in your bed, waiting for Eddie's reaction to give way and tell you how to respond.

His eyes remain wide, and his cheeks tinge a dark shade of crimson, even darker than the crimson you painted on him just minutes ago. 

If you had got up you would have heard the way the call went from dead silence as they all listened eagerly, to the excited eruption of chatter, an overlapping frenzy of voices coming together to express all of their thoughts— from the way Eddie’s in game character moved (or rather, didn’t move), to the way his voice got squeaky as it picked up several octaves, and to the way he whined and babbled. You would have heard some lewd comments, some crude comparisons, as well as many other laughter ridden digs that filtered through the headset at a lightening speed, all in an intersecting race to get their shots in before Eddie hung up. 

You certainly would have got an earful— it’s a wonder Eddie could pick out a singular voice to respond to. His face contorts into a look of shock, mouth frowning slightly, eyebrows raised high, before his face drops completely. 

“Yeah, well at least I’m not on a call with a bunch of guys with hard ons listening to someone cum,” he replies. He listens before his brows pinch up harshly. “Dude, go jerk off, everyone knows you’re hard.”

“Eddie,” you gasp. He catches your eye in the mirror and his lip twitches up into a faint smile. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, glad to know that he’s at least harbouring some humour in this situation

“Whatever man. Was just gonna say bye because unlike you guys, I have manners— have a good night with your right hands.” he announces loudly before you hear a final click of his mouse. 

He pulls off the headphones in an unsettling haste, tossing them to the side before shutting his laptop harder than he would have on a normal day. You wait with a bated breath for him to break the silence. 

He untucks himself from your vanity, standing, taking long strides to the bed in which you can’t see his face no matter how hard you crane your neck. He throws himself down next to you lying flat on his back, sighing deeply.

“Everything.. okay?” you ask tentatively, pushing yourself up on your elbows to see his face. He looks at you with a blank expression before he grabs at you, tugging you down to his chest pulling you half ways on top of himself.

“They heard everything. Thanks a lot,” he says, teasing heavily in his voice as he so obviously blames you for the mishap. 

If he asked you to admit it, you would— it, undeniably, was mostly your fault that all those listening ears got a free show. It wouldn't stop you from arguing that he should have just come to bed in the first place though. Regardless, neither of you argue, there’s no point. Eddie looks at you with a faux furrow of his brow, but sparkles of amusement in his eyes that give it all away. It’s not accusatory, it’s non-incriminating, it’s just pure tease.

“Everything?” you clarify, raising a brow at him. 

“Oh yeah.” he emphasizes with a nod of his head. “Everything from your dirty talk to me coming on my laptop.”

“No,” you gasp.

“Don’t look so mortified, Miss ‘Hi boys’,” he mocks with a bat of his eyelashes before continuing. “They think you’re hot. I’m the loser who sounded ‘pathetic’,” he says, holding up finger quotes with the hand not wrapped around you. 

“Who said that?” you ask curiously. 

“That you were hot or I was pathetic?” 

“Both?” you smile bashfully. He smiles back at you, shaking his head slightly. 

“Gareth for both, but all the guys very enthusiastically agreed,” he says, brows rising in a shrug as he tugs you closer to him. You cozy up to his chest, laying your head down on his shoulder. With his arm around your side, he pats your hip lightly as he hums. “Yup, don’t think I’ll ever live this one down.” 

“Should come to bed next time,” you retort, matter-of-factly tilting your face to see him. His jaw drops in an exaggerated bewilderment, eyes widening before his look settles into mischief. In a flash, he’s rolling over you, pressing kisses down your neck. 

Kisses progressing into more, Eddie paid you back for your little game in a multitude of ways that left your head spinning and thighs shaking. While he wasn’t fully impressed by the fact that all of his friends overheard, he did get a sense of pride in them knowing what a damn prize you were. A serious angel on earth, something he had that they could never touch. He made sure you’d never forgot it too as he spent hours between your thighs.

Most importantly, the resolve that has the greatest interest to you, it has now become routine that every time you ask Eddie to come to bed, he does so happily and promptly— always diligently double checking that his voice call is off. No more drawn out anticipation, all it took was one messy hand job, and a forgotten mic with the listening ears of all his friends on the other end— friends who never miss out on the opportunity to remind Eddie about his misfortunes.